Dropping the curtains back into place, I backed down the narrow passage. More voices whispered and hushed as I passed, and I wondered how many faeries were hidden behind the silks.
The sounds of the crowd slowly faded, and I felt as though I was descending into a tomb. But then the ground shook, and I heard clapping and cheering in the distance.Spectators whistled and stomped, and though the sounds were much more muted than they should have been with only the thin fabric separating us, it was a relief to hear them nonetheless.
Feeling weary and impatient, I shoved aside a deep red silk and came face to face with the most terrifying creature I had ever laid eyes on.
She looked as though she’d been fashioned as a female but cursed to live as a tree. Swirling bark and knots stretched over curves and accentuated rough features, and a pair of silver eyes narrowed as they took me in. The wood faerie wore no clothing or adornments. Where she should have had hair, or possibly branches, she had only a mass of dirt-caked roots groomed into a rough style. Her nose was slender, as was the rest of her, and her long trunk-like arms ended in sharp branches that cracked as she moved.
Tearing my eyes away from the clumps of dirt swinging in her “hair,” I saw what looked like a small chamber illuminated by more faelights. A velvet wingback chair and a fine dressing table were crowded into the space, and something told me this was the Ringmaster’s private dressing room.
“Who are you?” the female hissed. Her voice was like a harsh wind blowing through crisp fall leaves, and it made my insides tighten with nerves.
“I’m —” I swallowed.
What did I say? Hunters and faeries were natural enemies, and this female’s master had no reason to grant me a favor.
In the end, I settled on the truth. “I’m here to see the Ringmaster.”
The faerie’s eyes flashed, gleaming with malice. “You did not answer my question,huntress. Who — are — you?”
I sucked in a breath, my mind racing. I’d had scant interactions with the fae, but I knew enough from my time in the Quarter to know whatnotto do. A name — any information — was power in the hands of a faerie.
“I mean no harm by coming here,” I said. “I only wish to ask him a question.”
The faerie sneered. It was hard to track those molten silver eyes, but I could have sworn they fell to my leather jacket — to the exact spot where my witchwood dagger was concealed. “Then I hope you have come to bargain, huntress. Every answer has its price.”
My chest tightened. That was the other absolute when dealing with the fae: Never,evermake a bargain with one.
I was starting to think it had been a mistake to come here. There was no telling whether the Ringmaster actually knew anything about the stone. And, if he did, what sort of price would he demand for that information? Would he let me leave if I refused to pay it?
Suddenly, the hum of fae magic seemed to press in around me, making it hard to draw a full breath. The wood faerie’s thin mouth stretched in a wicked smirk, and I wondered if the rush of power I felt washerdoing — a warning that I should leave.
But before I could second-guess my plan any further, one of the silks whipped back, and the Ringmaster appeared before me.
Up close, he was even more dazzling. Not a single line or smear of makeup marred his youthful face. His white hair glowed even in the absence of a spotlight, and his eyes were the deepest midnight blue.
The second they locked on me, I knew hehadheld that crowd in a thrall. An oppressive wave of magic pinned my feet to the ground, and I found I couldn’t look away.
“Did you enjoy the show, huntress?” he asked genially.
I swallowed, and I could have sworn his eyes followed the exact same path that the wood faerie’s had.
“Are you here to audition to be my next knife thrower? If you are, I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time. I only employ fae.”
“No,” I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice despite how helpless I felt. With the sheer power pouring off the Ringmaster, I knew I was no match for him, regardless of how many daggers I carried. “I just wish to speak with you.”
“Very well.” Something peculiar flickered in his expression, but he extended an arm toward his dressing room with the same crispness and showmanship he’d employed in the ring. “Shall we?”
My heart stuttered at the invitation. This was the whole reason I’d come here, yet my hunter instincts thrashed at the thought of stepping behind a curtain with this male. I hadn’t survived so many years in the Quarter by being stupid.
Then again, how much safer was I standing in plain view? Who would intervene if the Ringmaster decided to attack me out here? Certainly none of the fae.
Forcing my feet to move, I followed him into the small dressing area. The silks that cordoned off his chamber were all the same vibrant shade of crimson. They billowed and swayed in a nonexistent wind, giving the impression that I was stepping inside a gigantic beating heart.
Once we were inside, the Ringmaster dropped the thinsilk curtain, hiding the wood faerie guard from view. Immediately, the tent fell silent. I couldn’t hear the roar of the crowd or the whispers from the other fae. It was as if the Ringmaster’s magic had snuffed out everything going on behind those curtains.
I glanced behind me, unnerved at having my senses cut off.
If the Ringmaster sensed my unease, he didn’t show it. He just crossed to the huge velvet armchair, shucked off his jacket, and threw it over the top. “If I may be so bold,” he said, “what brings you to my show?” He sank down into the chair and propped his feet on the stool of the dressing table. “It is not often I have the pleasure of entertaining one of Silas’s hunters.”
