Kerrigan received the same reception in the Wastes that she had at The Dragon Scales. Except here, the clientele was predominantly human and half-Fae, and she was their real champion.

As she passed through the cheering crowd, she found a frowning Dozan Rook, the king of the Wastes.

“Red,” he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black pants. He was in a full suit with a red cravat at his throat. His burnished hair shone in the light, and his all-knowing golden eyes stared back at her. As menacing and handsome as she had ever seen him.

“Your champion has arrived,” she said with her arms wide.

He arched one perfect eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’re out on a victory parade.”

“Why? Don’t I deserve to celebrate?”

His lip quirked at the side as he stepped into her personal space. She fought the urge to step backward. She’d been obsessed with Dozan once. He’d even offered her a place at his side as the queen of the Wastes. She knew he only wanted her for her power, but the connection they’d always shared didn’t go away with the logic.

“You deserve everything that’s coming to you,” he said sensually.

“That sounds ominous.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Still took down a Fae male twice my size.”

“I thought you’d have already run back to your mountain.” His eyes trailed over her face, as if awaiting an answer she didn’t know how to give. “Considering Basem Nix just turned up dead.”

2

The Murder

“What?” Kerrigan gasped.

Her mind was spinning. She needed to sober up immediately because she absolutely could not have heard Dozan correctly. Basem Nix was in the Draco Mountain dungeons. The only people with access to him were Society members. The guards were the best of the best and acquiesced to binding spells to prevent any sabotage. It was impossible to infiltrate. Except …

“Ah, you’ve reached the same conclusion that I did,” Dozan said as if he could read her mind.

“He can’t be dead.”

Dozan smirked, a dark, dangerous thing that she’d once adored. “Not if your precious Society is everything that you think it is.”

“The only people who can get into those dungeons are …”

“Society members,” he finished for her.

“Gods,” she breathed.

She put her hand to it to try to stop the buzzing in her head and the dizzy feeling creeping through her limbs. How much had she had to drink at The Dragon Scales? More than normal, that was for sure, but it wasn’t like she’d had faerie punch. It was a dangerous magical concoction that lowered inhibitions. She’d tried them all for fun, and this headache blossoming behind her eyes reminded her of the green kind she’d had a few summers ago with Lyam. She winced at that recollection of her murdered friend. Another casualty of Basem Nix.