Page 9 of The Faceless Queen

A line of torches along the wall crackled and flared above us. I reached up to take one with my free hand, urging him down the corridor.

“We can have food and drink sent up at any time.” I met his eyes. “And you are, of course, welcome to stay the night.” I let the word linger in the air between us, pausing to give his mind a chance to fill in what activities might happen between now and dawn.

As expected, his throat bobbed, his eyes widening.

I smiled, as if I could read his mind. As if I, too, wanted whatever fantasy he imagined. Whatever it was, it wasn’t eliciting a strong enough emotion for me to pick up on.

Well, we’d change that.

“The bed,” I continued, “is one of our most comfortable and quite large. I have a basin and washroom so you may freshen yourself up before, and after.” I leaned in toward him, my eyes slowly raking up and down his body before once more meeting his eyes. I sent heat to my neck, to enhance the scent of my perfume, using a small push of my magic to waft it toward him before I bit my lip. “Whatever you need, whatever you want, I am more than happy to provide.”

The nobleman took a deep breath, one I knew was filled with my scent. But rather than saying or doing anything lascivious—as most men would at this point—he merely squeezed my hand. As if to reassure me. A soft gesture.

Sweet, even.

Stop fighting. You know you like it.

I looked away, my throat dry. The flames of the torch began to spit, black smoke guttering to the ceiling. We passed a painting of Eskalon’s patron God, Kavrir, hanging on the wall. He was golden-haired and muscular, brave and noble, in his golden armor, a shining sword in his hand. But stalking behind him—was the horned God, Batrir, Eskalon’s villain. He was sneaking up on the golden-haired God, a coy way for Geoffrey to poke fun at what men came here to do. Even noble ones.

“I’m right down this way,” I said, leading us to my room. The door was already wide open. It was always open. After all, we didn’t want to allow time for a mark to get cold feet or discover he was having second thoughts about the price while I unlocked it.

I noted that Geoffrey hadn’t discussed such things with my nobleman. But there were certain men who you could just count on to pay their debts, and he was one of them.

I led him inside, and only then did I release his hand so I could close the door behind us. Bringing the torch to the fireplace, I refreshed the dwindling fire within, allowing the logs to spark with fresh flames before lighting the candles above the mantel. My back was to the nobleman as I hung the torch in its rung, but I could feel him watching me, feel the heat of his eyes as they moved over my body. Knowing they lingered on my curves.

Good.

I turned to face him, leaning back against the door, my breasts pushed out, the coins affixed to the bra jingling and glimmering with gold and red in the firelight. His throat bobbed, watching me as I bit my lower lip, one hand sliding down my torso to the curve of my waist.

Carefully, he removed the purse from his belt and set it on a small writing desk beside the bed, looking quickly at me for approval. And there it was. All the proof I needed that Geoffrey had read him right.

I nodded, watching his neck redden. His jaw tightened suddenly, his eyes shifting to the floor, to the fireplace, the bed. To anywhere and anything he could find. Anything but me.

The faint light of the full moon poured through the window, casting his hair in a light bronze. And just outside I heard robins, back from winter, chirping and tweeting, even this late into the evening. Their calls mixed with the crackling of the fire. It was already growing warm in the room. Which meant it was time for the next part of the night. The one that was best to get over with sooner rather than later.

My mouth opened, one of a hundred lines I used on my marks, ready to roll off my tongue.

Where do you want me?

How do you like it?

Get on the bed.

But without warning, the nobleman looked up at me. “You don’t have to…” He shook his head, his eyes moving back and forth between the bed and me. “You don’t have to do any of this. I didn’t…I didn’t come here for that.”

“Is that so?” I asked playfully. “Well, pray tell me. What did you come for?”

“Finlay,” he said suddenly. “I mean, I came for Rowan. My friend.” He was flustered, practically tripping over his words. “I came so Rowan could meet Finlay. He saw him perform at the Spring Festival just outside the castle last week. And …” he shook his head, like he thought he’d said too much. “Well, actually coming all the way out here was Kienan’s idea.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Kienan? Is that your black-haired friend at the bar?”

“Yes,” he said. “It was his suggestion to come. Because of Rowan. And … his suggestion for me to make arrangements to … to come as well.”

“To celebrate your upcoming betrothal?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Well, I must also offer a drink to Kienan in gratitude.” I smiled. “Because thanks to him, I now have the chance to get to know you better.”