The carriage stops long before we leave the city, and the door opens moments later. Not as careful to hide his identity this time, I get a good look at the coachman’s face.
I gasp. “You.”
The man who offered to escort me to the coach depot on Carnation Street stares back at me. “I don’t have a knife on me this time, princess.”
My mind racing, I turn to Lord Cavinder. “He works for you?”
Far calmer than when we first left Charles’s estate, he answers mildly, “I had him watching you that night, though he did a poor job of taking you hostage when you tried to run. Thankfully, Alexander and my fool son convinced you to remain in Valsta.”
Elgin leans in and roughly grabs my arm, dragging me out of the carriage. Lord Cavinder steps out behind us. “There’s no need for that, Elgin. Sabine will behave.”
Elgin doesn’t look convinced. He narrows his eyes on me, likely remembering the way I held the blade to his throat. I smile sweetly, silently telling him I’ll do it again if I get the chance.
The meaning isn’t lost.
With a scowl, he removes his hand.
For the first time, I take in our surroundings. We’re in what appears to be a respectable business district. Streetlamps glow, and there’s music coming from a pub not far away.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“My place of business. Please, come inside. I’ll make you a cup of tea for your throat, and you can meet a friend of mine.” Lord Cavinder pauses. “Actually, I believe you’re already acquainted.”
Though I don’t care for the sound of that, I follow Lord Cavinder, not daring to make a run for it while Elgin is behind me. He’ll take his revenge if he gets the slightest chance.
A bell chimes over the door as we step inside. We’re in a reception area, with a desk in front of a doorway leading into the back. The furniture must have been recently polished because the smell of lemon oil still lingers in the air.
Phillip waits near the desk, but another familiar man studies a painting on the wall—this one Fae. He turns when we enter, smiling like the serpent he is. His eyes are the lightest gray, and his hair is a subdued shade of blond, almost silver.
“Hello, Your Highness,” he says, “I would say you’re looking lovely, but the Cahlvare curse doesn’t seem to agree with you, does it?”
“Ian,” I say coolly. “You know Lord Cavinder?”
The count is the same age as Brahm, but he’s half the man my brother is.
“Not until recently, but it was a pleasure to finally make his acquaintance. Queen Marison has had nothing but good things to say about him.”
A mark against him, to be certain.
I turn to Lord Cavinder. “Why would you bring Ian here? If you think we are close enough he can persuade me to join you, you would be wrong.”
“Come now, Sabine,” Ian says, pretending to be hurt. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’d like to think of us as family.”
“Mother cursed herself before you managed to convince her to marry you,” I say. “You are nothing to me.”
He crosses the room, glaring at me with his disconcerting eyes. “You have a sharp tongue for a woman without her magic.”
“If you touch me, you will regret it the moment I’m unbound,” I hiss.
“I don’t have to touch you.” He cocks his head to the side as he points a finger at my arm, using his magic to control me.
Helpless to stop him, I pat my cheek once…twice…and then slap myself hard.
“Now I see why your mother enjoyed this little trick so much,” Ian says. “It’s fun, isn’t it? What else can you do?”
Suddenly, I’m moving toward him, draping my arms around his shoulders.
“I’ll kill you,” I hiss through my teeth, my cheek still stinging.