The Fire elemental hadn’t skimped on anything in her mansion. Not a thing. White marble coated the floors like glossy varnish, while gold and bronze leaf glittered on the ornate cathedral ceilings a hundred feet above my head.

Genuine Tiffany lamps lined the hallway like soldiers, the hidden bulbs sending out sprays of jewel-tone colors through their stained-glass shades. A few lights glowed in the various rooms that branched off the hallway, illuminating delicate antique furniture from a variety of eras.

Everything in the house was tasteful and expensive, whispering of casual elegance that looked effortless, though it had cost a pretty penny to procure. I might have been momentarily dazzled by it, if the shrieking stone of the mansion hadn’t told me exactly how Mab had gotten the money to pay for all this finery—and all the nasty things she’d done in here since.

I walked on, passing dozens of people. Silk, satin, crushed velvet. Everyone sported their Sunday best evening gown or tuxedo. Nothing less would do for one of Mab Monroe’s parties. In addition to the stone of the mansion, I could also hear the whispers of the gemstones the men and women wore on their necks, wrists, fingers, and even toes. Beauty, elegance, fire. But even the grandest diamond’s vibration paled in comparison to the singing clarity of the one I’d seen in Tobias Dawson’s safe.

Oh yes, the dwarf could make quite the fortune mining and selling the diamonds on Warren Fox’s land to this highfalutin crowd.

I recognized more than a few of the faces I passed.

Some, I’d done jobs for. For others, I’d assassinated parents, brothers, sisters, or business partners for whatever reason. Some were Mab’s sycophants, her loyal subjects.

Others would have been happy to spit on her corpse, dance a jig on her grave, and then set about trying to take the Fire elemental’s place as Ashland’s queen bee.

I didn’t speak to anyone, but men and woman stared at me as I passed. Their eyes caught on the silver rune around my throat, then slid down my body, as thought I were a cut of meat they were thinking about getting from the butcher. According to Finn, I looked like a real, live, fuckable Barbie doll, thanks to Roslyn’s clothes and long blond wig. I’d barely recognized myself when I’d looked in the mirror earlier.

But I didn’t meet anyone’s gaze and walked on as if I hadn’t noticed there was anyone else in the mansion at all. I wasn’t here to attract their attention. Tobias Dawson was my target, and I had no intention of getting sidetracked or propositioned by anyone else.