The Cobra watched as Rae joined him. He was all glittering brightness, except those dark, steady eyes. Rae waited to hear salacious gossip about the court, or the king. Instead he murmured, “Girl, where are you from?” Rae gestured vaguely. “The palace?” The Golden Cobra leaned forward. This close, Rae saw tiny painted dragons spreading gold wings on his cheekbones, dragons’ tails curling in the slight hollows beneath. “That’s not what I’m asking. Where did you live, before you walked into the story?” The wicked Marquis of Popenjoy dropped his voice even lower. “I’m a New York City boy myself.”
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