Page 106 of The Fallen Fae King

I smile.

I am not alone.

I startle, however, when there is a sudden loud bang on the bars.

How bad has my state become that I miss these dragons’ approach down the corridor?

Worry worms through me.

I am an assassin too. How do they think they can break me?

“The trash is smiling,” a sneering voice says. “Clearly, that silver-tipped whip wasn’t effective on him. We have played with his aversion to touch, knives, and simple sticks. He can take a beating better than any vampire I’ve yet tortured. Oh well, it’s no good. We need another approach.”

I turn my head to stare at the Beta dragon, Taran, on the other side of the bars, who is discussing me like a fun puzzle to solve.

Taran is holding a small, flickering oil lamp. He is peering through at me like I am a caged animal that he is taming.

Taran is dressed in the black robes of the Guild of Assassins. Even though he is their leader, he appears to be younger than me. But as he has told me…many times…this week, he was Vicious’ personal apprentice and never meant to become the Head of his Guild.

And this Vicious died because of me.

I can respect Taran’s thirst for vengeance. I don’t respect his methods.

Taran has a deceptively soft face like he is piously praying to his Shadow Gods, when he is in fact plotting horrors.

His short, sandy hair falls gently to his shoulders, but I can catch the sharpness lurking in his light blue eyes.

Horus played the same trick, camouflaging his danger.

I hate those who hide their fangs. They are the most likely to sink them into your throat.

Wraith stands at Taran’s shoulder, studying me.

She never joins in on the games, but she always watches.

After all, Vicious was her lover. She has the greatest reason for vengeance.

Wraith’s white-blond hair is plaited with a gold ribbon, and she looks fragile with a pointed face. Her jade eyes are calculating, however, and she wears the jade robe of the Guild of Spies.

She also has a golden sash wound around her waist that means she is personally bound to Aurelius’ inner court.

I spent my youth visiting the Shadow Court, learning its secrets and workings. I spied on it myself, growing close to Aurelius on Nebet’s order.

I wasn’t meant to also learn what true friendship was.

I wasn’t meant to become his friend for real.

I know that Aurelius won’t believe me now. But I may be one of his only true friends.

And his other friends hate me.

Wraith’s voice is soft, hardly above a murmur, but it is compelling. “Then maybe we are going about this wrong. We were told that he has no feelings. But I don’t believe it. Look at him, An. We only need to give it time. I know the power of grief.”

Taran rubs her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs him off. “I don’t need sympathy; I need him to feel the same pain as I do. Separation from your loved one hurts more than sticks, knives, or whips.” Her gaze meets mine, and her lip curls up at one side. “Doesn’t it, Blood?”

The two Betas study me like I am neither an Alpha nor a king.