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I clasped my hands in my lap, grazing the strap at my thigh that held my dagger beneath my dress. Relieved that I had that for protection at least, I blew out a shaky breath.
By the time they’d ended the second round, Rukard was up by five points. Papa didn’t seem dismayed. Like I’d said, he was an optimist in the throes of gambling. He always thought he’d win…until he didn’t.
My entire body was shaking by the time Papa scooped the bones and stones into the pewter cup and began to shake them for his final roll.
Rattle, rattle—
The tavern door slammed open, knocking the wall behind it with a shudder. Everyone jumped, but the guard at my side was on his feet, his sword unsheathed. Then, no one moved at all.
We were all frozen at the sight standing in the doorway, the setting sun silhouetting a giant shadow fae—one of demonkind—in all of his terrifying glory. His wide dragon-like wings blocked out nearly all of the light, his four horns curled back in an elegant crown over his sleek black hair.
Then he dipped his head and folded his wings tightly against his back so he could walk through the doorway made for light fae, not for the oversized demonkind.
The guard at my side stepped forward with more bravado than I thought he had and demanded, “State your purpose here, shadow fae. This inn does not accommodate the likes of you.”
The shadow fae stepped across the room, his heavy boots sounding hard on the wood floor. The newcomer stopped nextto the table where Papa and Rukard were also staring in shock up at him. The dark fae’s red-eyed gaze flickered to each one of them, stopping on me for a lingering moment before returning his attention to the table, not to the guard who’d spoken to him.
“I am a shadow fae priest,” he stated in a deep, silken voice, “and I have come to play the game.”
Chapter
Two
MURGHA
At first, no one said a word. I’d heard of the shadow fae priests but knew only enough that if I encountered one, I should run fast in the other direction. They were the elite warriors of the shadow fae clans who lived in a city called Gadlizel high in the Solgavia Mountains. They were brutal and deadly and should not be trifled with.
Even so, the guard at my side decided that he would. He was either very stupid or very brave. Perhaps a bit of both.
“We don’t want your kind here,” said the guard. “You should leave.”
I’d expected the shadow fae to scowl with indignation, perhaps snap a few words about insolence and disrespect. However, the towering shadow fae did none of that. He merely arched one dark brow, his mouth quirking with what seemed amusement.
Again, he disregarded the guardsman, completely ignored him, and addressed Papa and Rukard, “I’m joining the game.”
This time, the silkiness in his voice was laced with warning.
“There’s only one roll left,” protested Rukard.
Papa was smart enough not to talk back to the lethal-looking stranger.
“Then you have a greater chance to win,” said the shadow fae. He placed two things on the table—first, an unsheathed black-steel blade about as long as my arm from shoulder to elbow, and second, a pouch of coin, twice as large as Rukard’s.
Papa’s smile finally appeared as he stared at the mound of coin that was fortune enough to last a lifetime.
“My roll,” said my father, gathering the stones and bones into the cup.
I hadn’t moved an inch since the stranger had appeared in the doorway. I suddenly realized my pulse throbbed in my throat, my heart rate speeding wildly.
Both guards had taken vigil behind Rukard, arms crossed and expressions grim. But my attention was entirely on the stranger.
I’d met a few wraith fae before, on my visits to the Borderlands, but I’d never seen a shadow fae this close. Only from a distance that one time.
On a late afternoon last winter, Tessa and I had been foraging in the woods for whatever we could find before the first snow.
“Look, Mur! Up there!” she’d shouted excitedly.
I followed where she pointed. “I don’t see anything.”
