Page 116 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers

Cashel’s mouth tightens into a thin line. One hand goes to the hilt at his side. “I did.”

My breath hangs in the air, a fading puff in the chill.

There’s no going back now.

“Would you be different?” I whisper, and his gaze slashes toward mine. “If you were king?”

The crushed grass beneath his boots crunches. He strides toward me, until we’re close enough for me to count the facets in each ruby set into the silver collar of his cloak. Pure, dangerous hunger chills his stare, and his words are sharp. “I would doeverythingdifferently.”

Old Ones, I want to believe him. Relief is a wave crashing through me as I look up and hold his solemn stare. “Like what?”

Say the words.I want to hear him say the words before I bring him into this.

Cashel cocks his head, a dark gleam in his eyes.

“I would reverse my father’s order to drain the Wells,” he ventures, never taking his gaze off me. Watching every shift in my expression, every muscle, like he thinks I could run him through with a blade at any moment. “I would let the mages return and bring magic with them, so we could protect Eireann from anyone who would hurt us.”

Neither of us says the Cymreans, but we both know exactly who he means.

Slowly, carefully, I reach into my pocket.

The vial of magic is no bigger than my thumb, but the drops inside of it are shimmering midnight, and Cash inhales sharply at the sight. Raw fascination brightens the sapphire of his eyes.

“How did you get this?” The way he looks at me… it’s dangerously close to awe.

Pride swells in my chest. This will work. Ithasto work.

“You said you wanted to help.” I don’t answer his question. “I need you to plant this on Oona, but I can’t tell you anything more than that.”

Cash reaches out for the vial. I pull it back, just an inch, and his eyes snap to mine. “Then tell me: Is there more where this came from?”

That much I can give him. “Yes.”

The crisp, spicy scent of him reaches me as a cold breeze rustles through the vines and the ruined ground where the High Queen’s white roses used to grow.

Sandy hair falls into his face, but he doesn’t bother to push it away. A cautious prickle runs down my arms. He’s breathtaking, like a winter’s night.

Cash is ice to Wolf’s fire.

Silver to his sharpened steel.

But if being the daughter of a weapons trader has taught me anything, it’s that I’ll put my trust in the one that makes the stronger, deadlier blade every time.

I refuse to flinch from the probing shards of his stare. “Are you in?”

Cash’s eyes lock on the vial. Wonder, awe, desire… they all blur together across his moonlit features. Slowly, eyes flicking up to mine, he reaches for the vial. I let him take it and watch as his fingers curl tightly around the glass, and his eyes harden.

“I’ll do it,” Cash says solemnly. “But I need something from you, too.”

A hundred pairs of eyes narrow on me all at once.

And I know one thing with every fiber of my being as I grit my teeth and step over the threshold into the banquet room with Cash at my side for the High Queen’s birthday feast.

Every person here wants me dead.

“This is a bad idea.” Talon walks close enough behind me that their low words carry to my ears over the sudden gasps, the quick intakes of shocked breaths as the nobles spot me at the prince’s side.

“Yeah,” I whisper back through a forced, tight smile. “I know.”