The Dark Fae (The World of Fae #1)(47)

“You’ll not be taking the money from him, you thief. He’s mine,” the man growled under his breath, his dark beard and hair long, and shaggy. His clothes were unwashed and if the breeze had been blowing in the right direction, she would have smelled his approach long before he had reached her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. This man intended to rob her target?

Maybe that could be a good thing. He could rob Lord Davenport, then she’d poison the lord, and the fae who investigated crimes in this kingdom would think the lord had been robbed and murdered by the same man.

But the thief swung the cudgel at her head again, the ring of gold around his pupils glowing brightly, revealing just how pissed off the fae was at her that she would target the man he intended to rob. And he didn’t plan to just knock her out with a feather-light touch either. His cudgel and hefty swing could kill a man. Or woman, in her case.

She dove out of the way, felt the cudgel sweeping the air past her head, just missing her. Her heart raced as she tried to come up with another plan, slipping further into the dark alleyway. If she used her poison dart on the thief, she wouldn’t have it to use on the lord. She slid it back into her pocket.

In exasperation, she let out her breath in a rush. Most cities were too dangerous to live in. She much preferred her country estate.

Conjuring up a spell, she summoned fae dust and tossed a handful at his eyes. The gold shimmering particles like fine sand pelted his eyes and face, forcing him to shut his eyes. He cursed out loud, swiping at his eyes with a meaty, filthy hand.

He would scare Lord Davenport off with all his shouting, she feared. She headed for the exit to the alley, but the thief managed to grab her arm with a bruising grip and raised his stick again to strike her.

She was in the process of pulling a pin out of her hat with her free hand when a stranger said, “Whoa.” He immediately poked a gun at the thief’s ribs. “Let the boy go.”

She jerked her head up to see a man covered in a hooded cloak, looking down at her, a faint curve to his lips. His blue eyes were dark and shadowed, and he was dangerously handsome, she thought. He looked to be around her age, or maybe he was a little older. It was hard to tell from the grim look on his face.

Then she recalled what he’d called her.

Boy? The stranger thought she was a boy? Certainly she was dressed as one, but still, she hadn’t thought she looked like a boy. A ruffian girl, yes.

She really had to do some serious thinking about her role in life. She wanted a boyfriend. It wasn’t that she minded ridding the world of people like Davenport. But there had to be more to life than earning a living and keeping her castle and people safe.

Again, she jerked her arm to free herself from the thief, but the smelly bear that held onto her tightened his hold and yanked her closer.

Nothing had gone as planned. She couldn’t kill Lord Davenport in front of the thief and now whoever this man was. Master assassins never had an audience. And she couldn’t use her fae magic to do serious bodily harm to the thief either because she was careful to keep her abilities secret from other fae. What they didn’t know could hurt them. In her business, that was the only way to live.

“Release the boy,” her rescuer said, his voice frigid and dangerous.

The thief let go of Sessily and swung the cudgel at the stranger. The man leapt back and fired one shot. Like a massive tree trunk, the thief fell backward and landed with a thud on the stone path. One bullet in the temple, and the man was dead.

Lord Davenport glanced back at the sound of the shooting in the alley, but continued on his way to the gambling house, his pace quickened. The stranger looked from the dead man to Sessily, a chilly smile on his face. “Come with me, boy. You’re safe now.”

She closed her gaping mouth. Great. One dead body, wrong man, and it wasn’t even her doing. And if he called her boy in that irksome manner one more time…

She steadied her breathing, tethering her emotions, and tried to relax.

What did the stranger intend to do with her? She was a witness to a murder, although he was defending her and himself also. Did he need her as a witness to the murder or it would be his word against a thief, probably well known in these parts?

But she didn’t trust the man. Something about him seemed ominously dangerous as his gaze swept over her figure as if he knew just what she was. She’d learned long ago to trust in her instincts.

Using her fae form of travel to get her out of this bind, Sessily waved her hand and vanished, leaving the stranger, the thief, and Lord Davenport far behind, but careful to shield against leaving a shimmering fae trail for anyone to follow.

Several minutes later, she reappeared in her bedchamber, two fae kingdoms away, and collapsed on the bed.

Now what was she to do? Lord Davenport’s sweet new bride, who so eagerly awaited his return, wouldn’t be alive after a few days. Not unless Lord Davenport changed his ways. After so many bride deaths? At least four that Marguerite’s brother had uncovered. Hardly good odds.

Sessily rose from her bed and pulled out one of her velvet gowns from her wardrobe closet. Could she be a seductress? That was a role she’d never tried to play before.

She shook her head and shoved the gown back in her closet.

If she couldn’t track Lord Davenport down on his nightly run to the gambling house, she’d have to find another way.

***

The next night, Sessily arrived too late in the sphinx fae kingdom to accomplish her mission, due to trouble at her own castle—a small kitchen fire that had put her whole staff in an uproar. By the time she arrived in the city, Lord Davenport had already reached the gambling house.