A Kiss of Flame (Shadows Eternal #3)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

L evian had missed the thrill of crashing a party. She took a glass of champagne from a passing server, carefully sipping it as she moved through the crowded room. It was packed with Folk, mostly witches, all here to celebrate the recent reelection of Minister Bromley, the overseer of northern England’s witch covens. Levian cared little for witch politics, but the party granted her a convenient opportunity to stake out the host’s home.

Lucian Everard Vane was not quite what Levian had expected. Since locating him in Manchester, she’d spent days creating a dossier of sorts. Vane was quite normal for all intents and purposes, arguably too normal—a successful man of trade with a reputation for being arrogant but nowhere near sinister. The only odd thing about him was that he was half fae and half witch—a not particularly common blend given that the fae had a general propensity to dislike witches.

Levian sipped her champagne and glanced about the room. Vane’s large Manchester estate was decorated in a chaotic mix of different eras, cultures, and color palettes, with no sense of cohesiveness. Still, Levian had to admit that the creature’s collection was impressive. She moved to a glass case in the center of one of the many gallery rooms and peered at the ornate ceremonial daggers of some old human tribe within. Every room was stuffed with showpieces meant to impress the casual observer, but none seemed overtly magickal from what she’d deduced. Not that Levian had expected Vane to put his best treasures on display for any guest to see.

She’d not had much time to devise her plan, but when presented with such a lucky opportunity, she’d had little choice but to pounce.

Plan A, she reminded herself, running her fingers along the edge of the display case: Find Vane, play into his arrogance, and coax him into showing off his real collection. Unlikely, but not impossible.

Plan B: scope out his house and uncover anything that might help her recover the dryad ring.

Unfortunately, she’d not seen Vane since sneaking into the party, making Plan B her only viable option. She finished her champagne, sat it on a nearby tray, and tried to rally her nerves by smoothing out the front of her grey gown. She’d wanted to blend in, not stand out, since she’d been sneaking into the soirée, so she’d chosen a more demure ensemble for the occasion. Her curls were no longer pink but a deep merlot and softened to cascade around her shoulders, her makeup light but striking, her dress chic but simple. Barith would have said something cheeky about the low backline and her not being as subtle as she thought, but for Levian, this was as subtle as she got.

She finished her champagne, placed the glass on a nearby tray, and rallied her nerves, smoothing the front of her gray gown. She’d wanted to blend in, not stand out, since she was sneaking into the soirée, so she’d chosen a demure ensemble—a chic but simple dress, her curls darkened to a deep merlot, and her makeup understated but striking. Barith would’ve had something cheeky to say about the low backline, claiming she wasn't as subtle as she thought, but for Levian, this was as subtle as she got.

Her heart gave an annoying thud of sadness at the thought of Barith, and Levian cursed herself under her breath. Doing this kind of surveillance alone felt hollow without him. She’d ignored Barith’s texts and calls for days, feeling horrid, but she couldn’t afford any distractions. Levian took a steadying breath, forcing the dragon from her mind. She needed to focus on the task at hand.

Levian moved deeper into the labyrinth of rooms, mentally mapping the estate's layout, noting cameras, security, and the many gaudy chandeliers. While security was plentiful, it wasn’t top-tier. It had taken only a tiny spell and a flirty smile to get her into the party.

She stopped in front of a large Renaissance-style painting depicting The Fall. The temple of Celaria lay crumbled in ruin while the Shadow Fae city was overrun by Spring Fae and other Folk, all wielding shimmering fae-silver weapons. The Dokk were being slain and cast into a large black Abyssal pit full of shadowy monsters. The Spring King, Lyren, was portrayed like a god, sitting atop a tremendous white glowing pegasus, his silver crown gleaming, his mighty sword cutting down five Dokk at once.

Is that what all the books have told you? The books written by the Fae who overthrew the Dokk and ‘saved us all from the evils of the Abyss and Shadow’?

Merlin’s words rang in Levian’s ears as she looked upon the painting with disgust before a smooth voice cut through her thoughts.

“It’s intense, isn’t it?” he asked.

Levian didn’t even bother to look over her shoulder. She wasn’t in the mood to indulge in flirtations. And his cologne was overpowering—far too musky for her tastes. “Very,” she replied flatly.

“Lyren looks rather proud of himself, doesn’t he?” the man continued.

“Quite,” she replied, hoping he’d get the hint.

The man gave a grand sigh. “I sometimes wonder if he and the others ever felt remorse for slaughtering an entire race of their kin,” he added.

Levian turned at that. Vane gave her a charming smile, his dark brown eyes glinting with curiosity. He looked younger than she'd expected, not much older than herself. He was handsome, with sharp features, dressed in a sleek black suit. His hair was dark, his ears slightly pointed—evidence of his half-fae heritage.

Levian glanced back at the painting, forcing her heart to stop racing. Luck was on her side tonight, and the last thing she needed was to blow it because of nerves. “Perhaps some did, but I doubt King Lyren felt empathy for anyone,” she replied coolly. “Not when there was glory to be had.”

“Glory and wealth,” Vane corrected, his tone playful.

Levian returned his smile over her shoulder. “You don’t sound like someone who admires the piece. Yet you likely paid a small fortune for it,” she replied coyly.

Vane smiled and shrugged. “Not all works of art are meant to be adored,” he explained before glancing back at the painting. “This one I keep as a reminder.”

“Of?” she questioned, taking the bait. There was a blatant arrogance to Vane that wafted off him like his cologne.

He slid a bit closer to her, and Levian’s skin prickled. “That those who triumph in war always get to write its history and enjoy its spoils.”

“ How sage,” she replied, unable to stop herself. Vane cut her a sharp look, and Levian pressed forward. “Your collection is beautiful,” she told him, pushing past her instinctive dislike of the man and focusing on her goal.

“I’m flattered,” he replied smugly.

“No, you aren’t,” she countered, throwing out a bit of her own bait. Vane cocked his head, intrigued. “Your collection may be beautiful,” she explained, “but it’s a museum of relics to impress the public. We both know this isn’t the real collection you’re proud of.”

Vane’s eyes narrowed slightly before he smiled. “Is that why you snuck into my party?”

Levian’s shock must have been shown because Vane chuckled. “No need to look so concerned,” he said, still amused. “I hadn’t planned on having you tossed out.”

“No?” she asked, puzzled.

He shook his head, and something in his demeanor shifted. “I’m too curious to discover why Levian Myrddin, Ambassador to the Zephyr High Court and the Wizen Council of Mages, would sneak into a party celebrating a witch magistrate. Though I may be able to better guess now.”

Levian felt a tinge of embarrassment at being called out so quickly but tried to hide it. “I’m not here to play Ambassador,” she said, refusing to be unsettled. “I heard you have something of interest to me, and this felt like the most suitable way to approach you.”

Vane studied her before he replied, “When my security told me someone had snuck in, I was intrigued, but I hadn’t expected it to be Merlin’s daughter here to bargain for something in my private collection.”

Levian’s stomach knotted at the mention of Merlin. She forced a half-smile. “You have something that once belonged to my father,” she told him flatly.

Something in Vane’s polished persona cracked. His entire energy seemed to darken, and his expression grew more serious. “I see,” he said, taking a moment before asking, “Is that who sent you?”

Levian considered her response, her instincts warning her to be cautious. She could sense Vane was not someone to underestimate, even without her father’s warning. She thought to tell him no for a moment but thought better of it. “Yes,” she replied, hoping the implication of her father’s involvement would pressure Vane further.

After he gazed into her eyes for so long, Levian grew deeply uncomfortable and had to force herself not to shudder and look away. “Interesting,” he drawled eventually.

A petite half-fae woman with cropped jet-black hair, wearing a chic black suit, appeared at Vane’s side, whispering in his ear. Thankfully, it drew his attention, and Levian was given a reprieve. She had no clue if her plan would work. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted her plan to work.

Levian couldn’t pinpoint precisely what troubled her about Vane beyond his obvious personality flaws. There was an eerie shift in the magick around him.

Vane listened intently to his assistant, nodding and grumbling in response. He let out an irritated sigh before his gaze shot back to Levian. “No,” he replied coolly. “There’s been a change of plans.”

The woman’s striking oval eyes, dark against her fair complexion, also turned to Levian. Her expression was nearly as severe as her cheekbones.

“Come with us,” Vane told Levian before turning and strolling away from the crowd. His assistant moved to stand behind her. It had not been a question.

Levian hesitated. She hadn’t come defenseless, but there was no backup or Barith with a flaming sword to shield her if things went south. She’d have to stay vigilant and clever, and hope luck remained on her side if she was to pull this whole thing off.

“Take a seat,” Vane offered, motioning to one of the chairs in front of his desk. His study was spacious, lined with shelves full of books and relics. A large desk dominated the room, neatly arranged except for a few chosen items. Levian sat, her eyes flicking to Vane as he moved to the bar table at the side of the room. His assistant stood at the side of the desk, glaring down at her.

Given her company, Levian decided to play up her bitchier side, hoping it would help her gain more ground. She stared back at the woman before asking haughtily, “Can’t your assistant wait outside?”

The woman’s cheek twitched, her dark eyes narrowing with contempt, but Vane laughed. “Tsuki will stay,” he replied. “And I’d be careful calling her my assistant.”

“Apologies,” Levian said dryly, her eyes briefly meeting Tsuki’s irritated gaze. Based on Vane’s tone and Tsuki’s own irritated, frigid demeanor, she was clearly not to be trifled with. Lovely.

“How is Merlin?” Vane asked as he handed Levian a glass of dark liquor that smelled faintly of licorice and sugar. There was no affection in his tone, just a sarcastic edge.

Levian forced a smile. “Getting old,” she replied, taking the glass.

Vane’s lip curled slightly as he lingered before her. “He was always old,” he replied, with a touch of contempt. He sipped his drink, contemplating her. “Then why has he sent you?”

“I told you,” Levian said coolly.

He shook his head, adding a sigh for effect. “You see—I don’t quite believe you,” he said, his casual tone carrying a sharp edge. The eerie energy Levian had sensed from Vane in the gallery grew even more pronounced.

Tsuki kept her eyes locked on Levian, and Levian could feel the weight of being outnumbered. Neither Vane nor Tsuki were mages, but they were both half-fae, and fae-blooded creatures could wield a certain amount of magick. She’d heard Barith’s voice of warning in her head, critiquing and grumbling over every choice she’d made thus far, but she’d been determined. She had to admit it had been reckless to do this alone, but she’d at least texted Carvatticus to let him know what she was up to before she’d snuck in.

Levian kept calm. Although she was outnumbered, that didn’t mean she was outmatched. “You think I would go to all this trouble for any other reason?” she asked sarcastically. “Your collection isn’t that impressive.”

Vane smirked and looked down at her. “Levian Myrddin,” he said, his voice laced with irritation. “You’re just as much of a brat as you were when you were five.”

A shock shot up Levian’s spine. Vane smiled at her response before he downed the rest of his drink, setting his empty glass on his desk with a thud . “I don’t expect you to remember me,” he said, leaning casually back against the wood. “But I’m surprised Merlin didn’t mention that you once bounced on my knee before sending you here.”

Levian agreed. Merlin had conveniently left out that little bit of trivia. She set her untouched drink and purse next to a flashy fae silver tray on the table beside her. “Perhaps he didn’t think it relevant,” she quipped dryly, crossing her legs.

Vane sneered, looking her up and down. “You look a lot like your mother,” he grumbled with disdain. Levian tensed, her gaze hardening. He continued without care, “You look a lot like him, too.”

“I am their daughter,” she replied sharply with disdain. “That is how it usually works.”

Vane grunted before pressing on. “So you’re merely here to bargain for Merlin’s ring?” He looked her over again, his eyes cold.

Levian perked up at the mention of the ring but kept her reply smooth. “I am.”

He stood and sauntered to look out the tall windows along the edge of the room. The sky above was cloudy, and a light mist had begun to fall. “Disappointing,” he declared with a grumble.

Levian huffed. She wasn’t sure why he would be disappointed, but she didn’t care either. “Does this mean you don’t have it or won’t discuss it?” she asked with irritation.

“It means,” he drawled, turning from the window to face her, “that I am wasting my time.”

Her skin prickled with irritation and magick at the contempt in his voice, as if she’d done something to offend him by merely existing. Since seeing Merlin, Levian had wondered if this path was worth it—if there wasn’t another way to track down her thieves that didn’t involve snakes like Vane and the Eldreth. She wasn’t sure, but she was sure in that moment that she had no interest in being talked down to like a petulant child.

Levian ignored Tsuki’s glare as she stood, picking up her purse. “And mine, apparently,” she snapped. She moved to leave, but Tsuki stepped into her path to stop her. Levian cursed herself for coming up here and thinking she’d had a chance at pulling off her plan. Nothing ever went according to her plans, as Barith had grumpily been reminding her for years. She was loathed to admit he’d been right as she began to siphon the magick around her, readying to smash her way out if she had to. Only none came. Not a single drop, even though she felt it around her. Startled, she looked down at her hand, and Vane laughed as if he’d been waiting for that exact moment and her exact reaction.

“It’s a clever enchantment, isn’t it?” Vane observed with amusement. “It’s hard to detect at first, but it’s a similar enchantment to the one in The Prison. Maybe not as elegant, but effective. I’ve tried it on lesser creatures, but I’ve not seen how it holds up to a real mage. It’s delightful.”

It was vile and more than a little terrifying. “Move out of my way,” she ordered Tsuki. The woman didn’t budge an inch.

Vane sauntered closer, his arrogance palpable. “She won’t,” he said. “Not unless I tell her to.” Tsuki looked to Vane and Levian sensed her irritation, as faint as it was.

“What do you want from me?” Levian demanded.

Vane let out a long breath, his gaze calculating. Levian’s stomach knotted, a chill creeping over her spine. Even without her magick, she had some tricks—but she hated this feeling of being exposed and alone.

“For a moment, I was wondering if you’d finally come to your senses,” Vane admitted. “But you clearly have the same weaknesses as your parents.”

“Clearly, you’re an ass,” Levian shot back. It wasn’t at all clever or useful, but it was entirely accurate either way.

Vane smirked before he continued, “Your father and I did collaborate once, but we didn’t share the same vision. He sent you here as a message, but to what ends, I can’t quite figure out. He knows I’d never give up the ring, so why would he send you to my door to ask for it?”

Levian’s fingers grazed the little ball rolling inside her purse as she glared with loathing back at Vane. She didn’t know why Merlin would have sent her here knowing that either, especially after all that blathering about always caring for her welfare. He’d sent her into a lion’s den. “Because I asked him to,” she declared with far more confidence than she felt. “ I want the ring.”

Vane’s brows lifted. “You?”

Levian nodded, her fingers tightening around the little ball she had forked between them in her purse.

Vane lifted his right hand, his thumb playing over the thick, knobby silver ring on his middle finger. “You’re welcome to try and take it,” he challenged, smiling wickedly. “If you think you can.”

Levian’s stomach knotted. There was no doubt in her mind Vane thought that without her powers Levian was defenseless. She forced her rising pulse to calm. Vane was not the first man to underestimate her resourcefulness.

“Do you think I’d come here without anyone knowing?” she snapped as he sauntered to his desk. “If you don’t let me leave, I’ll?—”

“Do nothing,” Vane cut her off coolly as he pulled a small black Dokk blade from a drawer. Levian’s blood ran cold. “They’re hard to find,” he said, admiring the dagger. “Your father hid his before he was captured. I only got this one recently. Do you know how many Dokk spells require these? It’s rather irritating.”

Levian swallowed her nerves, glaring between Vane and Tsuki. “Do you simply think you can just kill me and no one will care?” she posed, irritated that her voice quivered slightly.

Vane chuckled. “Not exactly.”

“Lucian,” Tsuki clipped, her tone sharp as she grew tired of his little show.

“Always to the point,” Vane grumbled. “Never any fun.” He vanished in a swirl of shadow, and Levian’s breath hitched. It was the same shadow magick her father had used. Fear gripped her as she peered around the room.

Vane reappeared beside her, and she shouted as he grabbed her by the throat, pressing the Dokk blade against her skin. Levian dropped her purse to the floor and somehow kept the ball between her fingers, hiding her hand close to her skirts. Her breaths came fast, her pulse pounding as the cold metal lingered against her. Vane’s eyes darkened to black.

“There’s a reason I am where I am, and Merlin is rotting in The Prison,” he told her. Vane pressed the blade harder against her throat. “It’s a pity he gave up everything for such a sad little brat.”

“She’s right,” Levian whimpered, discreetly shifting her hand. “You talk too much.” She closed her eyes tightly, flicking the pixie flash bomb she’d lifted from the shifter in London to the floor.

Vane snarled as a spray of blinding light filled the room. Levian pushed him away, managing to duck out of his grasp, but Vane swung the blade, grazing the top of her arm. She hissed in pain, an eerie chill vibrating through her.

Tsuki cursed in the distance as Levian gripped her arm, carefully keeping her eyes shut. She only had seconds before the effects would wear off.

Levian fumbled as she grabbed for the thick silver tray on the table nearby. She opened her eyes as the flashes faded, wrapping her fingers around one end of the tray, and found Vane blinking, a snarl on his face, just a step away. She swung the tray, hitting his hand, and he howled in pain, dropping the dagger. Levian reeled back and swung again as hard as she could. He looked at her, his vision clearing, just as the tray made contact with his face.