Lux noted every attendant she’d previously overlooked. They stood at the edge of things, and while they were tasked with balancing silver platters of foods, goblets, and flutes—and did it well—the light would not deny the truth. Their eyes were each dulled and lifeless. Behind them, she could find no passion or will. She wanted to tear Corvin’s own eyes out for seeing it.
She might have—if she hadn’t a part to play.
Corvin laughed at her candor, and Lux’s brow furrowed. She struggled to merge all she knew with her experiences. She held onto the arm of a man older than Riselda, though he appeared hardly older than Shaw. A man who’d once shared a very real dream with her and appeared genuine in his appreciation of hers. Even his laugh now was warm and rich. It was hard to fathom that deep inside he’d become as frigid as frost and full of nightmares.
That he was so gifted a liar.
“There’s no dancing at this event?” she asked. The question was part curiosity, part wishful distraction. The guests at the base of the stairs were beginning to turn. Beginning to stare.
Because she was unfamiliar to them? Or because of whose arm she was on?
Because theymatched?
“No, we don’t dance. The Hallowed Banquet is an intellectual gathering for Mothlock’s Society and investors alike. The ceremony afterward, however”—he winked— “is only for us. Ah, Lux Thorn. Please let me introduce you to one of our longest investors, Ulysses Morrigan, a leading man of industry and Malgorm councilmember.”
Lux hardly righted her thoughts before she was arrested by the closeness of the man. Dressed in black satin, he inclined his head toward her. She supposed he could do nothing else wearing such a tight jacket. “A pleasure,” he crooned. “I’m always interested in fellow investors. Tell me, what is it you do?”
Lux’s lip twitched to lift into a sneer. She could smell the pompous air about him like foul breath, and she nearly told him so. “I’m not an investor.”
“Not an investor?” The man’s gaze dipped down her luxurious gown. “Then what are you—” His attention snagged. On Corvin’s proximity. The way he curved toward her. The man’s mouth lifted into a lecherous grin. “Picked a partner at last, have you, Lord Corvin? I’ll say it’s a good choice at first glance.”
His “glance” turned into a thorough perusal. One of those she could feel down to her bones, leaving her wishing to shed her skin to be rid of the sensation. She stepped forward, her teeth nearly bared. “I’m a necromancer, Mr. Morrigan. Tell me, is there anyone you’d like revived? Or are they all better left buried?”
The investor startled. Corvin stiffened. But before anyone could offer any explanation or apology, Mr. Morrigan said,“Glory to theSaints.You’re quite serious? What a useful little thing you are!” Lux did bare her teeth then. “Say, Alesso. I would be thrilled to borrow her from time to time. Might be a nice trick to have with those who test my limits.”
The man laughed uproariously over what was apparently meant in jest, but had Lux ready to slice her hidden dagger down the middle of his clothing to eased the strained fabric. This was so like the Light. So like the late mayor. She could hardly stomach it.
“We will see what the future brings,” Corvin replied, his jaw tight. Then he pressed a palm to Lux’s lower back and steered her away.
Out of the investor’s vicinity, he said, “Sorry for that. Morrigan forgets himself at times. He supports Mothlock’s mission, though, so we forgive some transgression.”
How unsurprising.She gritted her teeth. “I’m through with further introductions all the same, I think.”
Suddenly, a woman stepped into her path. A woman bedecked in an assortment of gemstones and feathers, barely contained hair, and spectacles.
A woman she’d met before.
Mistress Farrentail inclined her head with a soft smile that further creased her eyes. “Happy Hallowed Eve.”
“Good evening, Mistress Farrentail. Enjoying your time?”
Lux fought to smooth her own creasing.The lady who warns me of zealots ishere?A vendor and investor both?
“Mightily, thank you. I’ve made two new connections, but would love to make it three. Lord Corvin, do introduce me to your lovely young friend.”
“Apologies,” said Corvin, chuckling. His hand left her to gesture down her person. “This is Lux Thorn. An accomplished necromancer.” To Lux, he said, “I swear I’ll spare you after this. One cannot deny the year’s most celebrated investor.”
Lux raised her eyebrow, returning her attention to the vendor.Most celebrated?
“Mistress Farrentail supplied us with the tincture enabling our discovery of the nature of these mysterious killings.”
Which Lux knew, of course, but she feigned wonderment. “And has the culprit been apprehended?”
Mistress Farrentail blinked owlishly up at Corvin as if she, too, were anxious for this answer.
But Corvin sighed. “Not yet. They’re elusive as the Devil it seems. Meanwhile we lost another: discovered too late for your revival.”
“Tragic business,” moaned the elderly vendor. “Lord Silas should enlist some help instead of taking the investigation all upon himself.”
