I slipped through the halls, dodging the servants with avoidance spells—the one type of magic that came naturally to me. Making myself forgettable? Effortless. Doing anything actually useful with it? Impossible.
The sweep-turned-butler cocked his head—nothing could completely escape even a pitiful mage’s notice under the city’s anti-spy enchantment—then he continued searching throughour papers. Paid for by someone looking for dirt or gossip, no doubt.
I hurried through the side entrance, and let the note tug me toward an enchanted closed carriage parked on the street. A quick glance up and down the thoroughfare showed a commotion at a distant cross section, and because of it, for once, a blessedly empty space in front of our house.
The vehicle was fine but plain, with no crests or markings to showcase who was inside. The driver wore a high-collared dark cloak, which shrouded his identity as well. The light from his rune wheel cast a thin glow. The sleek door opened as I neared, and a long-fingered, gloved hand reached out.
My own shook as I took it and allowed him to lift me inside.
He was as devastating in the open ray of full moonlight as he had been under the glow of enchanted lamps.
I arranged my skirts on the bench across from his, not wanting to be caught staring again. The interior of the beast-free vehicle enveloped me in navy velvet and leather luxury. Drawn shades forced a fairy spice-lamp to spread light across the corner and crevice shadows.
And him.
“Where are we going?”
“For a drive.”
“You fancy a ride through the park at midnight?”
He rapped lightly, rocking the carriage into motion. “I fancy not having every sentence of our conversation dissected by your servants.”
“You doubt my household, but not yours?”
“Absolutely.” He peeled off his gloves, a languid, sensual motion where each finger was caressed from root to tip.
I swallowed at the revelation of skin—so few mages went without gloves in the company of strangers. Many forms ofcontract magic required touch. Only the powerful or poor went without that protection. “You think your judgment sound?”
“You had better hope it is.”
The carriage rocked lightly as we rounded a corner—a sensory addition for wary travelers who might worry about targeted direction spells.
“You said that you would decide whether to help my brother.” I gripped the seat. “Have you?”
“Have you accepted my terms?”
Two gleaming eyes reflected the spiced light beneath dark lashes and locks—a demon lord making a bargain. Perspiration beaded my brow and moistened my upper lip. “I have little choice, have I?”
“Why not let your brother take on the debt?”
I knew it was not Kennen of whom he spoke. “Ferris is indisposed.”
He lazily pulled his gloves through his fingers. “Pity.”
“I would not have sought you if I were unwilling,” I said carefully. “Even though you have given little enough explanation about what you might want from me.”
“Dangerous wording, Lady Second Winters.”
“Choice wording, then, Master First Noble, as I find dealing with you far from safe.”
He settled farther into the plush velvet seat. “You may as well call me Gabriel.” The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he knew I would do no such thing.
“I prefer Master Noble.” I would fight until my dying breath to retain some semblance of control when everything else about this situation left me powerless.
“And I prefer you call me Gabriel.” His taunting tone curled into silk-covered iron. “If we find ourselves in a tavern or back alley, it’s hardly going to do our investigation much good for you to give away the game.”
Tavern? Back alley? Me?We?I bit my lower lip. “As if everyone in town knows your surname?”
