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To Whisper’s right is Adder, Father’s second-best poisoner. Beyond Adder is Lily, who thrives on long seductions, spending months at a target’s side before eliminating them. Whisper doesn’t linger on his kills, and he doesn’t use poison. He’s best with a knife or pillow, and he’s in and out within the hour, without a trace.
Whisper’s built small and looks younger than his probable age of twenty. Cute, rather than handsome. He lacks Lily’s willowy elegance, and while he could tame his messy blond hair into something attractive, he doesn’t need to. Whisper doesn’t take long jobs, and he doesn’t seduce his targets.
Locked in Father’s office sits a glass bottle of Whisper’s blood, arranged beside identical bottles for every other Hound in the Kennel. The phylacteries are the secret to Father’s control over his Hounds; he doesn’t have to cast a new spell every time he wants to punish them. Blinding them for a demonstration is nothing. He could stop their hearts with only a thought and a twist of power. If they fail a job, that’s just what he does.
But usually, Hounds choose freedom. Father shatters their phylactery and frees them from the blood curse. No more training, no more jobs. No more blood magic to blind, kill, or enforce obedience. No more wondering if breakfast is poisoned because Adder is testing his antidotes. No more helping the younger ones train, and no more praise from Father when he does well.
“This job is perfect for Lily,” he says. “Not me. I don’t do long jobs, and I don’t do seductions.” Father chuckles. “What seduction? You’ve been fraternizing with Lily too much. There’s more than one way to infiltrate a castle.” “Three paragraphs of this briefing are about the prince’s sexual liaisons.” Whisper points at the page. “There’s more information about the type of men he beds than about his magic. This looks like a seduction briefing to me.”
Julien Sandry is the second of three brothers. All three princes are legally the children of Queen Margot Sandry and her consort Lady Claude Galant. Their biological parents are Lady Claude and the late Baron Tesson Rue. None of them inherited the Rue air magic naturally, and Baron Tesson passed away before sharing it via the inheritance spell. The queen granted each of them Sandry plant magic when they were old enough, but Julien’s grasp of it is weakest of the three. An obstacle, but not insurmountable. Whisper has killed a mage before—stealth is key.
“Tired of waving? Never,” Julien says. “It keeps my wrists limber.” At his other side, Nadine Beaumont affects a long-suffering sigh. “Too much information, Your Highness.”
Julien picked the colors seven years ago, based on what he thought looked cool and dangerous. Nobody should let sixteen-year-old boys pick anything.
His younger sister inherited most of the Frenn magic and is due to inherit the duchy, leaving Loras free to drink and flirt with princes.
Julien only vaguely remembers Elinor; he last saw her ten years ago, back when she was still known as Loras’s younger brother.
Loras is certainly the opposite of stern, quick to smile and quicker to drink. He’s a few inches shorter than Julien, with warm brown features and the belly laugh of a man twice his size. Julien wouldn’t mind tumbling into bed with him, should the occasion call for it.
The young man’s appearance would catch Julien’s attention in any situation. His heart-shaped face flourishes between the realms of handsome and pretty. Julien wants to touch his delicately pointed chin and turn his face this way and that, to see how the sunlight illuminates each new angle of him. But it’s his eyes that stop Julien in his tracks. A deep blue-purple, like twilight or bruises, untouched by sunlight.
To Will’s credit, he doesn’t flush or stammer. He simply blinks, then obediently repeats, “Your Highness.”
Lifting his glass again, Julien retreats to the pavilion before he loses control and starts flirting too obviously. Because little lost Will Hadley is far too attractive—and completely off-limits. Julien fucks around with courtiers. Fellow nobles and sycophants. He doesn’t fuck around with his employees.
Rutting into his hand, Julien imagines touching those soft pink lips, pushing his fingers inside. I’d like to serve you, Will said. As the memory sears through Julien’s every nerve, his knees buckle with the force of his orgasm. It sweeps through him like a roaring wind, and he doesn’t know if he quite manages to muffle his guttural groan with his hand.
Was last night’s manipulative pleading to Prince Julien in vain? “Am I being fired?” Whisper asks. “Worse,” Nadine says. “You’re being promoted.”
“Have you seen him?” Julien waves his hand. “Don’t worry. I’m a responsible royal scion. I’ll keep my dick in ungrateful, backstabbing courtiers where it belongs.” “It belongs in a cage,” Nadine mutters. Julien taps his chin thoughtfully. “Is that treason? I think that might be treason.” “Report me to Her Majesty and see if she agrees,” Nadine says.
Julien is very close, his breath warm in Whisper’s hair. “I mean it, though. Don’t worry about Emile, or anyone else in this nest of snakes. I’ll take care of you.” It’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to Whisper—and the most painful. Julien has no idea he’s comforting his murderer. Guilt tightens its claws around Whisper’s ribs until he can barely breathe. Julien doesn’t just want to fuck me, he could answer Lucien now. It’s so much worse than that.
Whisper indicates the phylactery. “Use that to interrogate me. It will force me to tell the truth. Ask Dury to confirm how the spell works first, so you know I’m not fucking with you.” “Wait, why Nadine?” Julien asks. “I know I just refused to use it, but if anyone is going to illegally question you with the magic truth bottle, it should be me.” “You’re biased,” Whisper and
“I’ll do anything.” “Don’t say that.” A grin blooms into Julien’s voice. “I might believe you.” “I mean it.” “Fuck, kitten.” Julien’s fingers tense briefly in Whisper’s hair,
“I need eyes in the darkness,” Julien says, still petting his hair. “Could you be that for me?” Julien’s supposed to punish him. Not give him a reward he never dared hope for. Using his talents for Julien, instead of against him? Being his ally, instead of his opponent? “I said anything.” “You did.” Julien’s hand slides low, and he traces Whisper’s neck, below his hairline. “I’m serious about needing a spy-master. But I’m also kind of making things up as an excuse to keep you here, so I can court you all over again.”
“Come on, I handled it great. You wouldn’t have seduced anyone, so you’d probably be dead. Meanwhile, by fucking my assassin, I neutralized the threat, uncovered a conspiracy against the realm, strengthened the border, and found the love of my life.”
