Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(23)

“I want what I’m owed. I want your loyalty, or I want your blood spilled at my feet.”

“Pick something you want, and I’ll steal it. Something of equal value for what you lost.” Finn’s voice was thin and rough, desperation leaking through the fissures and crevices. She hated the sound. “Anything. If I can’t get it done, then I’ll work for you.”

Kol cocked her head sideways. “And exactly what do I get out of this when I already have you right where I want you?”

“Everyone knows you like a good gamble, Kol,” she said. “Give me another chance to win my life back, and it’ll be that much sweeter when you take it from me.”

Silence stretched between them. Finn could taste blood pooling in her mouth.

“Sit her up,” Kol said.

They wrenched Finn back up and put her on her knees. Someone pinned her arms painfully behind her, nearly elbow to elbow. Kol stood from her chair and made her way to Finn. She gripped Finn roughly by the chin, running her callused thumb over the line of her jaw. Kol’s shadow surged toward Finn, like a beast closing in on its dinner.

Finn refused to give Kol the satisfaction of looking at her smug face. Instead she stared at the tattoo on the inside of Kol’s wrist—a bull with flared nostrils, its horns angled as if they might poke through Kol’s skin. Finn longed to take her dagger and shove it through the bull’s face until the tip of her blade wriggled out the other side.

“What did you do, hmm?” Kol asked. “What did you do that would make you never want to see your own face again? What made you bury it under all this magic?”

Even with a split lip and an eye swelling shut, Finn couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “I was born with a face like yours, but the gods were merciful enough to give me the power to hide it.”

Kol’s lip quirked. “Oh, I’m ugly. That’s the truth. And my propio, just as ugly. Underneath it all your face might be bonita, but with a gift like that, inside you must be as ugly as me. We’re a pair, I think.”

Finn hocked a loogie, slow and deliberate, and spat in her face. It dribbled down Kol’s cheek. Kol’s smile didn’t falter. She pressed her thumb on Finn’s lips, like a seal on a letter.

“I’ve dealt with much worse than a little spit, muchacha. When you join me, you’ll learn as much,” Kol said. Her minions laughed at that. Finn’s lips curled back until Kol’s rough thumb was pressed against the flat ridge of her teeth instead of the soft of her lips. Kol pulled her thumb away slowly, as if Finn were no danger to her at all. The realization stung her. She really was no danger to Kol. Kol had blocked her stone carving, and her henchmen had Finn on her knees.

“I think I have just the challenge for someone as skilled as you,” Kol said. Finn’s heart usually raced with excitement just before a job was offered. But this time it wouldn’t be a task she chose. It was being shoved down her throat. Her heart slogged in her chest, sore and tired and scared, but painfully alive. Like an injured animal limping away from its hunter.

“I’ll be nice—I’ll let you keep most of your magic. Your stone carving, you’ll have. But you’ll be keeping that face of yours for now,” Kol said. “No propio until you’ve completed the task. I’m going to ask you to bring me something I’ve wanted for some time now. . . .”

Finn spat blood at the ground between Kol’s feet. “A social life?”

There was a quick dry sound, like snapping a twig over a bent knee, and pain shot through her wrist. She couldn’t stop the anguished yelp from slipping past her lips.

“Not quite,” Kol said. “What you’ll be getting for me is a bit more useful than that.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Finn said, her words rough with fury.

“The deal is that in exchange for your freedom, you will bring me the vanishing cloak.”

One of Kol’s men snorted behind her. Finn stared at her incredulously, the pain in her wrist numbed by rage. “The vanishing cloak? Passed from son to son? King to king?”

“That’s the one. Bring me the vanishing cloak from the palace in three days’ time. If you succeed, you’ll get your freedom. But if, for some reason, you should fail . . .” Her minions snickered at that. “You work for me with a smile. Is the deal set, Face Thief?”

Finn glared at Kol, a glower so hot it might singe her brows off. Kol’s grin only widened.

“Where I come from, both parties voluntarily agree and shake hands, entiendes?” Kol asked.

With four thugs holding her down and her magic stolen, this was anything but voluntary, but people like Kol changed the definition of that word when it suited. Nos became yeses as they flowed in one ear and out the other.

Someone let go of Finn’s hand. She raised it to shake Kol’s.

Kol shook her head. “No. I don’t want that one.”

The goon restraining her paused before pulling the free hand back and letting go of the other. The one with a splintered wrist.

Finn refused to miss a beat. She raised her limp hand to meet Kol’s. When the mobster gripped it hard, jarring what was already shattered, Finn let what should’ve been a pained sob fuel a low, feral growl.

“Set?” Kol asked, a polite lilt in her voice.

“The deal is set,” Finn snarled.