Radiant Shadows (Wicked Lovely 4)

“You don’t run from me.” His words were a breath soft against her cheek. “I truly don’t wish to kill you today.”

She stayed still. “Or take me to Sorcha?”

He laughed, a delicious sound as shadow-heavy as any of the Dark Court’s own. “No, definitely not that.”

Then he relaxed his hold, letting her pull away.

Once she was several steps away from him, he held out a hand as if to shake hers. “As I said, I’m Devlin.”

She stared at his outstretched hand and then lifted her gaze to his face. Her heartbeat thrummed in time to the cacophony of fear and anger inside her. “Am I to say ‘pleased to meet you’ or some social pleasantry?”

Heart still zinging, she turned her back and walked over to her steed.

She cuddled against it. It was a smaller beast now—not much more than double the mass of its equine form—with a leonine body, reptilian head, and feathered wings. It tucked its wings close to its side and lay flat on its belly, so she could climb astride its back if she wanted.

She didn’t, but she did lean closer to it.

I’d like a name now, Ani, it murmured.

“After this,” she promised her steed without pulling her gaze from Devlin. “I live here. Your queen has no business—”

“She didn’t send me after you today.” He stood stiffly, not lounging as comfortably as he’d been before he’d restrained her. He reminded her of things she usually found beautiful: deadly power and contemplative violence.

“I don’t want anything to do with the High Court.” She was screaming inside, but her voice was even. “Just go—”

“Are you planning to help Bananach?” Devlin asked. “Will you give her your blood?”

“No. I won’t help her, or you, or the High Court.” Ani had spent her life refusing to give in to fear; that wasn’t going to change because of some genetic fluke that made everyone want her blood. She straightened. “You can kill me, but I won’t ever betray Irial.”

Devlin’s expression softened for a moment, too briefly to notice if she hadn’t been used to studying faeries who hid their expressions. The softness was gone just as suddenly as it had appeared. “I see.”

Ani shivered. He’d said he wasn’t there on Bananach’s orders, but he knew about her blood, knew that Bananach wanted it. She didn’t feel particularly inclined to stand around asking questions. Getting out of town sounded wiser by the moment.

“So if that’s all, I’ll be going,” she said.

She started to turn, but his voice stopped her: “I’m the High Court Assassin. Trust me when I say that running from me is not in your best interest, Ani.”

CHAPTER 17

Devlin waited to see how Ani would react. A sliver of excitement hummed inside him. If she ran, he’d chase. Despite an eternity of being bound to his sister’s court, he still hadn’t subdued that particular instinct. As the High Queen’s Bloodied Hands, he could sometimes let loose that urge with impunity, but that was business—with killing at the end of the chase. Chasing for pleasure, chasing Ani, was exceedingly tempting.

She didn’t run. Instead, she cocked her hip and glared at him. “Do you have any idea what would happen if you killed me?”

Bemused, he watched her face him with challenge clear in her every movement and word. “Tell me,” he said.

“Irial, Gabriel, Niall—they’d all be after you.” She had a hand on each hip, chin raised, shoulders back.

“You invite attack with that posture.” He gestured at her hands. “The footing is good though.”

“What?”

“Your feet. It’s a steady stance if I were to attack you,” he clarified. He wanted to train her. He’d tasted her blood: he knew she was well on her way to becoming equal to a Gabriel in strength.

“Are you planning on attacking me?”

“No, I’d like to speak with you. It’s a bit more civilized,” he said.

“Right. Civilized conversation after you track me, grab me, and suggest killing me. I guess you are High Court after all, huh?” She shook her head and glanced at her beast. It pressed its still-reptilian muzzle against her shoulder as she spoke. Whatever conversation they were having was locked from his hearing.