That word shouldn't tighten the muscles in Erick's neck. She was harmless. "Just find her. Hybrid girl about yay high on me." He motioned to his chest. "Soft hands. Probably a cook or a baker. Fair like an elf."

"Eleanor."

Erick grimaced. "No. I didn't want to strangle this one."

"Eleanor can be very charming if you're nice to her. Make up. You arranged something nice?"

Again with this? "She's a manipulative bitch." But Erick did what Phil asked. Her surprise waited outside.

The door burst open and she flitted in, smile flickering across her face. She rolled in her lips as if to hide it but a dimple remained on her cheek. Like a snowflake, she seemed to flutter into her seat beside him. "Morning," she muttered in a tone that didn't match her expression. Every day, she grew stranger.

Erick scanned the tabletop, wishing he could find that damned nose plug. Why did she layer on those spells? Earth, her scent muddled his head and made his cock ache. "Morning ended an hour ago. Did your tortured henchmen forget to wake you, or did you lose track of time, stealing souls?"

She blinked and her dimple flattened. Her gaze briefly fell from him as she smoothed a napkin over her lap. "I lost track of time. So many souls." She hid her lips behind a goblet of water but didn't drink.

"Eleanor is the only hybrid woman in Biston," Phil said coolly.

She coughed and spilled water onto her plate of cold eggs. "No. I'm not." Momentary fear opened her mouth, gaze fixed on the cord wrapped around Erick's fingers.

"You know her." Erick leaned forward. He tried to smile and soften his voice but knew she'd see through him. "Who is she?"

"Why? Are you bored of all your current whores?" she snapped. Her icy eyes hardened. Faint light burned behind them.

He shouldn't have insulted her. "I have a present for you." Phil had pestered him all morning to do something for the girl. "Look out the window." That ought to satisfy her.

Eleanor swallowed and searched his eyes, as if looking for a trick. Her mind slipped through his and found what he'd done. But she didn't seem to understand.

"Improvements. Safer streets."

She scowled at him and bolted up. She rushed to the window and shoved the glass open. Her mouth dropped open, curled down in horror. She turned to Erick and screamed, "Stop them."

Heat spread through his chest and burned in his neck. "This is what my job is. My duties aren't pleasant, so when I indulge in distractions at the end of the day, they're well deserved."

"Your duty is to murder men who've fallen on hard times? Don't you hear them? Listen."

"Hear what?" Erick snapped. The murmur of a crowd spilled in from the window. Executions drew onlookers. Soon, screams would add to the noise. "Close the window."

But the brat just stood there, arms crossed over her chest, clutching her shoulder and elbow. As if he was the monster.

Erick cracked his neck but that didn't loosen the tension that tugged on his head and shoulders. He slammed his open palm down on the table. "Shut the window."

Phil did it for her. Thank Earth.

She stared at Erick, seemingly waiting for an answer.

"Thieves weaken the economy. Merchants lose money, go out of business or leave if they don't feel safe." Yet the naive brat judged him for doing what she'd complained he'd neglected.

"That thief stole food for his wife and child. He couldn't find work even though you have a plethora of jobs that need doing here." Her hands curled into fists and fell to her sides. "No trial? No prison sentence? You just kill them?"

"Prison sentences cost money, money that pays law-abiding citizens who work for a living," Erick growled. The girl had never worked a day in her life. She had no idea of how the world around her worked. Who was she to glare at him? He had no choice. He did what had to be done.

She closed the gap between them. "You're treating the symptom, not the disease. They need jobs, means to feed their families."

His stomach churned. "Then marry Porter's king. Give them work."

"Seasonal work. What about in the winters? How will they feed their families then? And you're assuming he's telling you the truth. Didn't you read him?" Her eyes flashed with vibrant light.

Had the foreigner lied or was this another manipulation of the hybrid temptress? "With all your worldly wisdom, what would you recommend I do?"

"Biston used to thrive on the foreign coin our tradesmen brought in. Architecture. We designed Gildon's castles and the Western River's palaces. But when dignitaries come now and see our ruins, they forget what we used to be. Our tapestries rot on our crumbling walls. Stained-glass murals lie in shattered pieces. Carved and gilded furniture burns to warm starving families. Elementals sleep and abandon us."

"And with what funds do you suggest I pay for all these repairs? Can you turn dirt into gold or do your spells only scramble men's minds? Can you wake these imaginary elementals?"

"Borrow from Gildon or the Western River. Use your allies and pay them back with the profits. Just stop that." She motioned to the window, face contorted.

Erick rose from his chair to stand inches from her. Oh how he hated the girl. "Gildon's queen murdered your uncles. The Western River's king barred me from ever setting foot on elven land." Since he was so close to her bare neck, her perfume filled his flared nostrils and twisted his thoughts to depraved fantasies of her beneath him on the table. He barely registered her response.

"But I can. I can negotiate with both of them. Just please stop the execution. You can blame it on me. Say I'll punish him. Villainize me however you want. Just don't kill that man. Don't you hear his wife and child?"

He couldn't distinguish a sound from the rising noise. He held his breath to think. The brat had never cared about anyone but herself these past five years. Why did she care now? "Tell me my lover's name and the thief's yours to punish."

After a rapid flutter of eyelashes, she stuttered, "Violet Glass." Phil groaned.

"You know her?" he asked Phil.

But the old man strode past them, grumbling, "I'll stop the execution."

Erick's chest lifted and tension eased from his neck. "Where does she live? Is she here in the palace?"

Eleanor's pink lips parted but only a squeak slipped through them. Her normally cold eyes shimmered with an unidentifiable emotion, without light. Her thoughts hid from him.

He pressed against her mind's shields but couldn't find a way in.

The door opened and Reiley's yawn drowned out whatever Eleanor said.

Damn Porter's king. The jerk sauntered in, boots stomping, package under his arm. He scraped his chair back. "Lovely winter rose." He bowed and sat beside Eleanor. "I have something for you."

The foreigner must have attended the same school of thought as Phil in the studies of placating women. Little good it would do him with the little demon.

Reiley placed the package before her. A red silk ribbon waited at its top, carefully knotted in a bow.

But she stared at it as if snakes waited inside, ready to pierce her pale flesh. "No thank you." An image of a severed head flashed from her mind and she wrapped her arms across her chest.

"If you don't want men's attentions, then don't layer on the spells." The fickle brat seemed to enjoy toying with men's emotions. Erick's cock throbbed under her enchantment. For a pure human, like Reiley, it had to be hell.

"What spells?" She slumped into her chair, pleading look on her face as she turned to Erick.

Was she scared? Why? "That perfume. The spells that make men's minds turn to mush. Do us all a favor and call them off."

Reiley laughed. "If it were a spell, I would it were cast on every woman in all of Porter."

"It's a faulty pheromone production mechanism common in hybrids. I can't help it."

"Did you not ever study elven and hybrid biology?" Reiley chided. "He can't."

Part of the Western River's treaty. No elven texts, no spells, not even their language. He doubted he had the magic for any of it anyway. Not enough elven blood in his veins. "Violet. Where does she live?"

"I don't know. I've only met her once in the woods." Eleanor pushed Reiley's gift away.

The foreign king leaned toward her, unabated. "Open it, please. You should have nice things."

Was that a jab? But Erick wasn't competing for the girl.

Eleanor stared at Reiley a long while, as if reading his thoughts. Her features softened and she finally pulled the bow apart. When she lifted the lid, rainbows refracted from whatever hid inside.

Reiley lifted out a web of gold and precious stones. It dripped with more riches than all of Biston had in its treasury. "Every woman who wore this bore sons for Porter's kings. Now it is yours."

A knot twisted Erick's gut. Right in front of him, the pompous ass gloated and flaunted treasures Erick could never afford. Erick shouldn't care. His lover probably could be happy with just him. He didn't need to buy her affections.

Eleanor's pale eyes flicked up. "I don't want it," she said to Erick, as if he was supposed to do something.

"Throw it away then." Reiley dropped the sparkling web back into the box. "No other woman but you shall wear it in my lifetime."

"Like Erick, you'll toss aside your entire kingdom for something that doesn't exist?" She rose from her chair.

"Sit down." Erick grabbed her hand and electric sparks burst through his arm. His whole body tensed, rigid and demanding. Earth, she shouldn't feel like his lover. He shouldn't want to drag her to his room and have his way with her.

"Why not?"

He wanted someone else but that's not what Eleanor meant. Was it? Erick yanked her back to her seat. "Apologize."

"For what?" She twisted free. "How can you be so blind? You want her to be someone else's wife. To be of a lower station. If she was anything more, if she was free to be yours, you'd hate her. You're such a twisted, fucked-up prick." Eleanor shoved her chair back and rushed out of the room.

Erick started to apologize for her but Reiley ignored him. The foreign king followed the girl, oozing apologies, as if he'd said something offensive.

Phil seemed to appear beside Erick, silent during the commotion. He must have entered through the servants' entrance. "Patty hasn't hired anyone new. Eleanor is the only hybrid woman in the palace besides your mother."

Erick grimaced. Although elves guarded his demonic mother in the highest tower, he'd never felt safe from her. "You recognized the name. Violet Glass. Search the woods for her."

"Hybrids can't survive this weather. Would it be such a bad thing if this girl is Eleanor? She's a pretty girl. She loves you. She'd do anything for you."

Laughter choked Erick and he doubled over coughing. "Eleanor? She loves to torture me. You heard her. No, this girl, Violet, she's soft. Delicate. Couldn't hurt a soul." Eleanor probably ate souls in her sleep.

"Ellie's just hurt. All women lash out when you hurt their feelings. Even your delicate mirage. Just consider it. If she's Eleanor, would it be so wrong?"

"She's a demon."

"Why do you say that?"

"Her spells."

"What spells? She knows fewer spells than an elven child." "Henry would kill me."

"You don't want to marry this girl?"

The thought clenched Erick's gut. "No." He wanted what he had last night. The comfort of her soothing him, of her mind in his, of her electrifying body arched and moaning.

"Then what's the point?" Phil grumbled. The old fashioned man often scolded Erick for his nightly indiscretions. Even though Phil had never taken a wife of his own, he seemed to think everyone else should pursue the hell of matrimony. "Maybe Ellie should marry Porter's king then." Phil lifted the golden web from its box. "You know, it's not the gift that matters to women. It's the meaning behind the gift. Yours implied that Ellie enjoys others' pain. His implied the role she would play if she accepted it. In a way, he'd appreciate her, at least."

Erick ground his teeth. "Maybe." What did he care? "See if you can unload that. Sell it. Use the money to make whatever repairs. And find the girl."

Phil pocketed the gem-encrusted, golden web. "Why wouldn't she show tonight? That's all you want her for, right?"

"Right." Erick gulped his ale, wishing it were that simple.

"The girl is Eleanor and I can prove it if you'll do me one favor in exchange."

Chapter Ten.

December 23, 9544 AR

Valetta, Biston

The purple fabric glistened in the flickering light of the fire. She should throw it in. If Erick found it here, he'd probably think she'd murdered the fictional character he'd invented inside his head. Such an idiot.

Still. Those sparks from his skin. He'd felt so good, even inside her mind. But he made no sense. Why had he wanted to talk afterwards? If he wanted to know the women he fucked, he wouldn't have them wear masks. If he'd known it was her, he'd have flipped out like he had in the dungeon. Worse, probably.

There were other men.

Eleanor wiped the tears from her face and donned the ridiculous costume. Her fingers blurred as she laced the bodice with a recycled cord from another dress. It shouldn't hurt, what he'd thought. Eleanor rubbed her eyes and tears smeared over the heels of her hands.

She tied the laces tight to hold the sobs in. With the mask, she hid her puffy eyes. Everything turned purple through the pretty lenses.

As soon as she tucked her hair in, the door burst open.