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  Her hand was okay—not a guaranteed win. But unless Aeidan was putting on a masterful act—and Miria didn’t think him capable of such a feat—he was considering tossing his hand back to the dealer.

  “You’re not really going to toss your hand, are you?” Miria prodded. She offered Aeidan a sweet smile and laced her voice with false innocence. “You don’t think you can beat me?”

  “Shut up,” he snapped. Fury flashed across his face as he waged some internal battle about whether to play the hand he was dealt or toss it.

  The tension between them silenced the table, making it feel like she and Aeidan were the only ones in the room.

  Finally, having come to a decision, he pushed his coins forward. Miria did the same.

  Gods, he was so damned easy to read, and even easier to manipulate. He couldn’t turn down a challenge from her—even if it was one he knew he’d lose.

  If only he’d started coming to games earlier. She’d be rich.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got,” Eldrin said. He leaned forward in his chair, crouching slightly, like he was ready to leap across the table if it was necessary.

  Miria’s breath caught in her throat and her chest tightened as she waited for Aeidan to flip over his cards. If she’d read him wrong, she was about to look like a fool and lose the last of everything Zephyr had given her. She spread her cards out in front of her, face up.

  Aeidan jumped to his feet with enough force to send his chair flying into the bar behind him. His cards fluttered to the table, some with the faces up, some down.

  The breath Miria had been holding escaped as a relieved sigh. Whatever cards he’d been holding, they weren’t enough to beat her, judging by his reaction.

  “Bullshit!” Aeidan yelled.

  Miria grinned at him as she pulled his coins in front of her. “Ready for another round?”

  He slammed his fists down on the table in front of her, ignoring Eldrin’s yells for him to stop. The coins rattled on the table around them.

  It was Miria’s turn to lean back in her chair and kick her feet up casually on the table. “We played a fair game. Take the loss.”

  He leaned across the table, fist raised like he was ready to strike. Before he could, both Eldrin and Zephyr grabbed his arms.

  Miria almost wished they hadn’t bothered. She was already enduring the worst punishment in the city, short of execution. He couldn’t do any worse to her than the vampires were already doing by wearing down her body and mind in the tunnels.

  “Unless you feel like joining me in the mines, you can’t hurt me, asshole. Every miserable second I spend up in those tunnels is worth the sight of your bloodied face and the memory of your whimpers.”

  “Get the hell out of here, Aeidan.” Eldrin pushed him toward the exit.

  Aeidan yanked his arm away from Eldrin and scowled over his shoulder. “I’ll go track down your whore friend, then.”

  “Good luck with that,” Miria said. “She’s been getting fucked by Lord Nero himself. I don’t think she’s even in this district.”

  Snickers erupted at the table around her.

  She couldn’t blame them—it did sound ridiculous, and she wouldn’t believe it herself if she hadn’t seen the evidence with her own eyes.

  “You’re lying,” Aeidan said.

  Miria shrugged. “Believe me or don’t. I don’t really care. I wouldn’t fuck with her if I were you, though.”

  “Out!” Eldrin’s voice thundered through the pub.

  “Yeah, I’m leaving. Watch your back, too, pretty boy,” Aeidan said, turning his hate-filled gaze to Zephyr as he slammed the door shut behind him.

  “Gods, Miria.” Eldrin shook his head and cursed. “You didn’t have to provoke him.”

  “I did nothing but take his money,” she said innocently, stacking her coins in a pile.

  “You know as well as I do what you did.” He rubbed his temples and sighed.

  Several hours later, five stacks of coins sat in front of Miria, arranged in a neat row. She looked over her shoulder to wink at Zephyr, who hadn’t moved since Aeidan left. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and leaned down to plant kisses along her neck.

  “You’ve robbed them all blind. Come home with me,” he whispered in her ear.

  One of the guys whistled, prompting a scowl from both Miria and Zephyr.

  Miria stood up and gathered her earnings into her pouch. “I’d love to stay and line my purse with more of your coins, but I have work early in the morning.”

  The door to the Silver Leaf swung open and slammed into the wall behind it.

  “Everyone up!” a vampire guard yelled. “Stand up!”

  The elves in the pub hurried to their feet, raising their hands defensively.

  “Can I help you, gentlemen?” Eldrin asked. “We’re just playing a friendly game in here, and there’s still a few hours left until curfew.”

  Lucian walked in and whispered in a guard’s ear before pointing a finger in Miria’s direction.

  The guard stormed over toward her.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” she said, She planted her heels on the ground and stood up straighter. “I—”

  “Move,” the guard snarled. He shoved her aside.

  She stumbled into the table, scattering cards and stray coins everywhere.

  She looked up just in time to see the vampire grabbing Zephyr roughly by the arm. “This one, sir?”

  Lucian nodded. “Bring him in.”

  “Let go of him!” Miria leaped between Zephyr and the guard with the ferocity of a feral cat. She took his hand in one of hers. With the other, she swung wildly at the guard.

  Another guard stepped in to pull her away. He held her arms behind her back, restraining her.

  A sharp, metallic ring cut through the air as Lucian drew his sword. “Enough!” he bellowed.

  The room stilled at the command.

  “Captain, what’s the meaning of this?” Eldrin asked. “There has to be a mistake.”

  “Sit down, Eldrin,” Lucian said, keeping his voice carefully calm and neutral. “We’re here on official business. This doesn’t concern you, and I suggest you don’t involve yourself.”

  “I’ve done nothing!” Zephyr yelled.

  “Shut up,” the guard holding him snapped as he shoved him toward the door.

  “Captain, what about this one?” the guard holding Miria asked.

  Lucian barely glanced at her before spinning around and pushing open the front door. “Bring her,” he called out over his shoulder. “We can question her, too.”

  15

  Miria paced in the same cell she’d been held in after attacking Aeidan. It felt like it had been hours since they’d separated her and Zephyr, and no one had spoken to her since.

  She gripped the cell bars tight and pushed her head through as far as she could, just enough that she could peer down the empty hallway.

  “Let me out!” She kicked the cell door. Pain shot through her toes and up her leg.

  What were they doing with Zephyr? And why did they take him away? The unanswered questions gnawed at her as she waited in isolation.

  When Lucian finally appeared from around the corner, he wore a furious scowl that distorted his features.

  Miria crossed her arms and scowled back at him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “You don’t know why you’re here?” Lucian asked.

  “Obviously not.”

  “And you don’t know why we took the other elf? He’s your lover, is he not?”

  Miria stilled at that. Coming from the vampire, the word seemed cold and distant—nothing like what she had shared with Zephyr. But since he seemed to already know the answer, there was no point in lying. “Yes.”

  “What do you know about his recent activities?”<
br />
  Miria clenched and unclenched her fists. “I’ve been staying with him the last week or so. Whatever you think he did, he didn’t do it. When he hasn’t been working, he’s spent the nights with me.”

  “And you haven’t seen anything unusual in his home? Or noticed him acting strangely?”

  “No.”

  “I see.” Lucian leaned back against the wall across from her cell, arms crossed.

  “What exactly is it you think he did?” she asked. “Maybe I can help.”

  “We received a tip that appears to be accurate.”

  “A tip from whom?” she demanded. “Was it Aeidan?”

  The guard pursed his lips, but didn’t reply.

  Miria groaned. That must have been what he meant about Zephyr watching his back—after his thorough embarrassment at the Silver Leaf, he must have run to the guards spouting lies and trying to get them in trouble.

  “You’re not an idiot, Captain,” she said. “At least, I don’t think you are. I’m sure you can see that he’s just trying to get back at me.”

  Lucian nodded. “I did think so myself. At first.”

  “But?”

  “But then I saw the evidence for myself.”

  “Evidence of what?” Miria asked.

  Lucian stared at her through the bars, considering her for a while. His stoic, expressionless face revealed nothing of his thoughts. “You really know nothing,” he said finally, more to himself than to her. The door creaked as he unlocked it and pulled it open.

  “I can go?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Zephyr?”

  “I suspect you’ll be seeing him later,” Lucian said. “Trust me when I say you do not wish to join him right now. Go home, and do not come back here tonight.”

  As she shuffled past him in the narrow hallway, he grabbed her arm. The menacing look in his eyes was enough to make her blood run cold. “If I find out that you knew anything about your lover’s activities, I will execute you myself.”

  The vampire escorted her out of the watchtower. Perhaps he didn’t trust her not to snoop around the cells trying to find Zephyr. He was probably correct not to. There didn’t seem to be any other entrance into the tower, and the two guards at the gate eyed her warily. She had no choice but to go home and try to figure out what had really happened.

  “Fuck!” she muttered as she took the steps down the cliff two at a time.

  What had Zephyr done? Even when the vampires had taken her away and punished her for attacking Aeidan, they hadn’t been this serious. And Zephyr hadn’t done anything wrong—he never did. He was good at keeping his head down, just like he always told Miria to do.

  So what did Aeidan have on him?

  She sprinted toward his apartment, then raced up the stairs, never stopping until she reached his door.

  Or rather, where his door should have been.

  It had been kicked off its hinges and was now lying on the floor in splintered chunks. Zephyr’s belongings, along with the things of hers she’d been keeping there, were scattered around the room.

  Miria’s world crumbled around her as she looked over at his bed, where the mattress had been flipped onto its side, revealing the wooden support planks and the floor below.

  The sword Miria had given to Zephyr, the one she’d stolen from the vampire she killed, was gone.

  Madam Leone’s brothel seemed larger and more ominous than it ever had before.

  Or maybe Azalea just felt smaller.

  Leone had been kind to give her a week off to collect herself, and leaving her behind after that kindness seemed like it would be such a slap in the face. Azalea wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news that she wouldn’t be coming back to the brothel…or to the Third District at all.

  The warm, inviting aroma of Leone’s spiced tea surrounded her as she entered. The familiar scent filled her with a sense of comfort that nearly took her breath away. Tears stung her eyes as she thought about the life she was leaving behind, of Leone and all the other girls who called her house home. She would miss them all.

  It would be even worse when she had to say goodbye to Miria. If Miria was even willing to speak to her long enough for a final farewell.

  One step at a time.

  Azalea ran her fingers along the smooth, wooden railing as she passed by the stairs. The sounds of pleasure drifted down from above.

  The kitchen was empty except for Lilah, who sat at the table with a mug full of tea in one hand and an old book in the other. She looked up at the sound of Azalea’s footsteps. “Hey.”

  “Is the Madam in?”

  “No, she took ill a few days ago. She’s kept the door locked and won’t see anyone.” Lilah set the book down on the table in front of her. “Did you make it to the Blood Den?”

  “Yes.” Azalea pulled out a mug from the cabinet, poured herself a cup of tea, and leaned back against the counter.

  Lilah’s eyes widened a little, and she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And?”

  “It wasn’t so bad,” she lied. Better to let Lilah think everything was fine than tell the truth about what happened with Darien.

  “So you’re moving there, then?”

  “No, better. Lord Nero invited me to live with him at the castle.”

  Lilah snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “It’s true.” Azalea took a small sip of her drink, then set the mug on the counter. “I saw Sara while I was at the Blood Den.”

  At that, Lilah snapped to attention. Her posture straightened, and she focused her gaze intently on Azalea. “How is she?”

  “She seems to be doing well for herself. She works at the front counter.”

  Relief flashed across Lilah’s face as she leaned back in her chair. “I’m glad she’s okay.”

  “You should go to her,” Azalea said. “It’s not as bad as you think there, and she misses you.”

  Maybe it was wrong to tell Lilah that everything was fine when Azalea’s own experience was anything but. She just hated to see the two sisters separated in different districts. Nothing but their own choices kept them apart. If Lilah truly missed her sister, all she had to do was join the Blood Den. It was so simple. Why couldn’t Lilah see that?

  “I can’t,” Lilah said. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away.

  “Why not?” Azalea asked. “You were the one who suggested I go. It would be a better life than this, and you’d be around your sister. I don’t understand.”

  “I will never allow a vampire to drink from my neck,” Lilah said.

  “Not even for someone you care about? For your family?”

  “Never.”

  “She still loves you,” Azalea whispered. Sara hadn’t said as much, but Azalea had seen the heartbreak written on her face at the mention of her sister.

  “She’s the one who abandoned me,” Lilah hissed. “Why shouldn’t she come back here?”

  Azalea ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She didn’t know why it was so important to her to convince Lilah to try the Blood Den. Maybe she wanted to justify her own choices. Or maybe, deep down, she felt that if she could convince Lilah, she might be able to convince Miria, too. But that was stupid. Lilah would never be convinced to compromise on something so important to her.

  And neither would Miria.

  Maybe part of her had been holding on to the hope that Miria would give in, in the end. But no—Azalea would be moving on to the next stage of her life alone.

  Suddenly, the room felt too small, and the smell of the spiced tea had become sickening.

  “I have to go,” Azalea mumbled, her voice shaky. “Tell the Madam I won’t be coming back.”

  Before Lilah could respond, Azalea stumbled out of the kitchen and down the hallway, just as the front door swung open. A man stumble
d in, stinking of sweat and booze, making the air even thicker. He reached for Azalea, and she pulled away, grabbing the railing for support.

  “I’m not for sale today,” she snapped.

  “Not here for any of you right now, anyway,” he said with a scowl. “More important things going on tonight.”

  He pushed past her and rested his arms on the banister, looking up the stairs. “Oi! Bren!” he yelled up. “Get down here!”

  A door upstairs clicked open. “I’m a little busy!”

  “Put your cock away. They’re about to do another execution!”

  “An execution?” Azalea asked, still holding herself up on the railing.

  Boots thundered down the stairs. An elven man appeared, still lacing up his undone pants.

  “Yeah,” said the elf who’d just arrived. “They caught the one who murdered that vamp in the market last week. Some lad named Zephyr.”

  “Zephyr Tamrien?” she breathed out.

  “Must be. It’s not exactly a common name, is it?”

  If the air in the room had felt stuffy before, it was suffocating now.

  Azalea bolted outside only to find that the air out in the cavern was just as constricting, and the tightness in her chest remained. There had to be some mistake. She didn’t know Zephyr as well as Miria knew him, but she didn’t believe he was capable of such an act.

  And Miria—did she know? How was she handling the news?

  Azalea had to find her.

  She raced down the streets toward her apartment. Miria hadn’t been there for the last week, but it was still her home. And despite everything that had happened between them, they were still friends. Azalea couldn’t let her suffer alone.

  Once she reached the building, she ran up the three flights of stairs and down the hall toward their apartment. She paused in the doorway, gasping at the sight. Everything she and Miria owned had been pulled out of their dressers and thrown carelessly around the room. Twenty years’ worth of drawings were strewn across the floor, many ripped and destroyed, several with muddy boot prints stamped onto them.

  And on the far wall between their beds, written with the remnants of the few charcoal pencils she had left, was the word WHORE.