Page 18 of A Kiss of Flame
Chapter Five
London
seven days before barith has to fly back home
“I’ve got it!" Levian bellowed, bursting into the library.
Barith knocked the back of his head on the mantle above him, snarling a curse. He’d been prodding the fire when she’d entered. Rubbing his aching head, he turned with the poker still in his hand. "Aye? What?” he asked.
Levian stalked up to the back of the dark blue velvet couch across from the fire, her fair face alight with triumph. She held up a small black note card emblazoned with gold lettering and read it aloud.
“Kamár invites the lovely Levian Myrddin admittance tomorrow eve for a night of enchantment and indulgence, along with her alluring companion, Barith McCroy of the Sun Dragon Horde of the North Sea.” She squealed with delight and flipped it over. "The address is on the back—it’s only in Soho,” she said.
His house, Ember Hall, was in Mayfair, a few blocks from London’s famous Hyde Park. An old two-story red-brickedtownhouse with a large walled-in back garden, it had been left to Barith by his father, who had won it off some half-fae in a game of cards. He’d gotten his love of betting honest. Barith had always been more fond of Ember Hall than his sisters. To his embarrassment, he’d let the place fall into disrepair over the years. When he’d brought Sirus and Gwen there last year to hide out from the High Priestess, Nestra, he’d discovered an unexpected guest. Levian had settled intohishouse as if it were her own, to his irritation at the time. It was Levian’s mage handiwork that kept Ember Hall hidden with wards ensuring no human or Folk could see it from the street. She’d also freshened the place up to her liking. It had sat just as she’d left it ever since.
Barith put the poker back on the stand. "Alluring companion?” he repeated.
Levian scoffed as she came around to sit on the couch, her many silken layers billowing around her. "Don’t get a big head about it. You’re likely the only reason they extended the invitation in the first place," she admitted, a hint of irritation in her voice.
Normally, Barith would’ve thrilled to hear her admit to something like that, but instead, it made his stomach churn. Levian had gone out to meet an old friend for coffee earlier in the day, hoping the tête-à-tête would lead to an invitation if she dropped a few cleverly chosen words. Barith eyed her. "What exactly did you tell this friend of yours?” he asked, now worried.
Levian rolled her eyes and fiddled with her layered gold necklaces. "What does it matter? It got us an invitation."
"Vi," Barith growled, his glare hardening.
She returned his glare, unfazed. "I told her you were with me here in London," she said.
"And?"
Levian shrugged her slight shoulders. "And that we were simply looking to enjoy ourselves while in town—somewhereprivate, where we could enjoy the company of others without word getting back to your horde about what you may or may not be doing."
Barith cursed, rubbing his face with his hand. "Hells," he groaned. He hadn’t thought about anyone back home finding out about his exploits. It was one thing to be let off for a few weeks, but if his mother or anyone else found out he was skipping out on his Courting to indulge in illicit affairs at an elite pixie club, he’d be strung up by his balls for shaming the horde and his Queen.
"No one will find out," Levian assured him. "The members are discreet for a reason. They don’t want you talking about them, either. Why do you think it’s so difficult to get an invitation?"
He was somewhat reassured, but only somewhat. "So what’s the plan?" he asked, flopping down into one of two oversized, well-worn leather chairs at either end of the couch.
"We play the part," Levian said as if it were obvious. "I’m the overworked Ambassador of the Wizen Council of Mages with a notorious father, looking to blow off a little steam with my long-time companion, who’s about to be mated and consumed with dragon horde business."
There was that word again:companion.
"They think we’re looking for a night of fun and secrecy," she continued. "It’s not like we haven’t pulled this kind of con before."
Barith understood the gist, and they had pulled similar stunts in the past—just not with quite the same heavy stakes. "So we’re supposed to indulge while trying to shake down the other patrons for information?" he asked skeptically.
Levian leaned closer, her violet eyes gleaming. "We know the trade is happening tomorrow night, which means the Curator must be there. If it’s happening at Kamár, someone involved islikely a member, if not multiple people. We just need to ask the right questions and find our Curator. Once we do, I’ll pull them aside, make mention of my recent possession of the Heart Orb, and the rest will fall into place."
Barith fought the instinct to laugh. Nothing ever went that simply—especially one of Levian’s plans.
"If this is an Eldreth club, can’t you just show it to anyone? Won’t they know what it is?"
She scowled. "I can’t just walk up to a drink attendant and drop it in their lap,” she retorted. “Besides, the whole point is to make it seem natural—like I happened to come across a rare relic in my work and am curious about the details if I were interested in brokering a sale without the crust-ridden Council of Mages finding out."
He grunted. "You think they’ll trust you?” he asked.
Levian looked unsure. "That’s half the problem. I don’t know any Eldreth personally, even with my vast network. Abigail might have been able to help, but she had a falling out with them years ago over the price of some rare necklace and hasn’t dealt with them since. Plus, you know I’m not keen on trading Dökk artifacts. I’ve kept my distance from them for a reason.”
It made sense. Levian knew a lot about Dökk relics but had always kept her distance due to her father’s obsession with the shadow fae. He’d tried to wield Dökk magick, and it had been his ruin—leaving deep scars in his wake, which Levian still endured.