My damp hair slithered over my shoulder as I tipped my head to the side, watching Graysen intently, trying to read the nuances across his features. But he was better at hiding himself than I was. "What do you want from him?" Was it something he could do for them or something he possessed?

Regret flickered in his gaze. "I can't tell you."

Annoyance sluiced through my veins as I braced a hand on my hip. "Can't or won't?"

"Can't."

Anger heated my blood as I marched toward the opening in the adamere walls. Somehow I'd figure it out.

Behind me, Graysen sighed. "Even if we couldn't use you to get into the Witches Ball, we'd still have need of you to bind Byron."

The words, the truth, sank through me like waterlogged sand. My temper was saturated by despair and thinned away. I slowly swiveled around and it seemed to take an eternity before I faced him once more. Such hopelessness rose up to claim me. It would be so easy to welcome the nothingness, to give in, give up. My hands were tied, had always been tied.

I blinked back the useless tears stinging the backs of my eyes. My voice broke. "I was always going to end up here, wasn't I?"

"Yes," he said quietly, ducking his head and staring at me beneath long eyelashes. His gaze was intense and wary, I suppose wondering if this time I was going to break.

My shoulders fell, along with my gaze to my toes and the luxurious loops of dark gray carpet.

Gods, there really had been no hope for me...

Yet I refused to give into the inky wretchedness settling inside me. Instead, I simply breathed, through my distress. One long, slow breath at a time. I lifted my head, each of us holding one another's gaze—Graysen's eyes much softer, worried—until the knots in my body loosened and I calmed enough to turn and walk away.

Wandering outside, the magic of the tower brushing like the silky flank of a cat against my skin. Perhaps being the weekend, the inner courtyard was quieter than usual, with only a few soldiers purposely wandering across the cobblestones, heading to their posts for the night shift rotation.

The stone heated by the sun warmed my feet as I padded around the balcony. The wind whipped strands of my hair about my shoulders as I headed to the other side of the tower, where we hovered high above the buildings in the Keep's northern wing, and the forest dipped in greeny-gold and lemony hues stretched to the rolling hills beyond.

Graysen followed behind. His footsteps were silent, but I felt him. A sensation tickled the back of my neck, whispering that I wasn't alone, that he was nearby, and tugged at me to turn back to him.

Rough stone prickled my skin as I wrapped my fingers around the balcony railing, drinking in the twilight sky, awash with dirty blues and creeping muted grays.

There was something at the back of my mind, a ghostly tap, something to do with Sirro. I flipped through my memories of the debonair Horned God. The last time I'd spoken to him was at Evvie's engagement celebrations. He'd wanted to dance with me, and as we'd waltzed across parquet flooring, he hinted at the Alverac amongst other things. He'd tipped the puzzle pieces into my mind and allowed me to sift through them and form a small part of a bigger picture, enough for me to spin around in fright and run to my father to demand the true nature of the Alverac.

I clicked my tongue. There was something else in our conversation.

What was it?

There was a specific unease that slithered along my bones when I thought of Master Sirro and this boon he'd offered the Crowthers five years ago. I pondered on it further, tapping a fingernail against the railing.

I turned around to face Graysen. He'd come to stand behind me, both of his hands in his jeans pockets as he leaned his back against the adamere wall, one leg bent with a foot casually braced on stone. "Why do you think Master Sirro gave you the Alverac? I know you say that he was trying to balance the scales after your mother saved a Horned God's life, but he could have raised you to an Upper House." I threw up a hand. "Hells, he could have even given you back your original position as rulers of the Great House. But he gave you the Alverac instead. The one thing that you needed to bind me. To own me. Sure, you could have gotten desperate and stolen me, but you would have had the might of the Houses against you. My father would have waged a war to retrieve me and slaughter your entire House."

Graysen rolled his eyes. I suppose at that infallible belief his family was bred for warfare and more lethal than everyone else combined. He might be right, especially if they fortified their position behind the Keep—a fortress. The siege would be long, but eventually, they'd have fallen if the Horned Gods lent their strength.

I pressed on. "But Master Sirro gave you something no one could dispute. Almost as if he wanted you to have it. Why? Why did he want you to own me? Do you think he knows what you're after, that you need me to get into the Witches Ball to save your mother?" If Master Sirro liked Tabitha, was fond of her, knew she was alive, but didn't know which Horned God had stolen her, it would make sense that he would help the Crowthers, if he knew what they'd been up to do all these years, trying to find Tabitha and save her.

Yet, there was an itch. There'd been something more to what was spoken between us as we'd twirled around the dance floor to a string quartet playing modern songs on classical instruments. Something obvious. Something jarring. I was positive it was hidden somewhere in the last moments I'd spoken to the Horned God.

Oh, they did exactly what I thought they might...they claimed you.

Indeed, if Master Sirro had been covertly assisting the Crowthers with a way into the Witches Ball by using me as their offering...

It came back to me, swiftly.

Not even a Horned God can overturn the Alverac. But there are ways to bend it...Crowther walking into a situation that not even someone like him could walk out of...alive. And that could be arranged if you simply ask.

I took a short hurried step forward. "If Master Sirro has been secretly assisting you. If he did purposely give your family the Alverac to gain me. Then why did he offer me a way out of it?"

Graysen dropped his casual repose, pushing off the stone. "What do you mean?"

"You're not safe just yet Graysen. You don't own me yet. I'm not twenty. If you're killed before then—I'm free."

"He offered you a deal, right?"

I swallowed and nodded. "He did."

At the silent question in his gaze—Did I take up Master Sirro's offer?—I shook my head.

Graysen became contemplative. His forehead creased and his gaze shifted away to look behind me, perhaps at the forest's canopy stretching across the horizon. "It's more likely he's playing games with all of us. Maybe he gave us the Alverac because he simply wants to bid on you..." The words broke apart, and just as he finished speaking the last word, you, something sharpened in his eyes. He pushed his hair off his forehead, fisting a handful and cursing low. His gaze sliced straight to mine. "You."

But bid on me? To go through all of this just to bid on me? "If Master Sirro wanted me, he could simply ask me to be part of his harem." That would be the easiest way to claim me.

"He can't," Graysen shot back, stepping close, forcing me back against the stone railing. He placed his hands on either side of me, a bluster of wind ruffling his hair. "You're a Wychthorn Princess. He can claim anyone from any House, just not yours."

Graysen was right. Master Sirro couldn't force me to join his harem. He could ask me and I could turn him down, as my rank gave me the right to do, and he couldn't do anything about it. Shock made my words mere breath. "Either way he wins. I agree to his terms before the Alverac. Or he wins me at The Witches Ball."

"You know he desires you, right?"

My gaze slid sideways as I pulled an awkward face, heat burning my cheeks. I didn't get it. Master Sirro was attractive and charming. But me? I toyed with the end of a messy lock of hair, scrunching my nose thinking about it. I wasn't anything like any of the Familiars I'd seen him with, and he was always accompanied by seductive and alluring women. Everything I wasn't.

There's something wild and untamed about you that's driving me to distraction.

He had been obvious in his desire for me. And I'd been obvious in my disinterest, I'd given him everything but a verbal no.

I sucked in a breath of woodsy scent the moment Graysen pinched my chin with his thumb and forefinger. He tilted my head his way so that I was forced to meet his gaze, eyes gone velvety-black with want, the golden flecks shimmering like starlight as he purred, "Why wouldn't he want you, little bird?"

The moment stretched out between us, desire intensifying and growing hotter with every heartbeat.

"I could scent it on him, his lust for you, on more than one occasion. Every time you've been present. Every time he spoke of you. And this way, us offering you up at the Witches Ball, he'd be able to bid on you. Win you. Own you."

A brief flare of silver scored through Graysen's black irises.

Territorial. Possessive. Protective. One of the three or all of them.

The air clenched tight in my throat. Not only because of what he revealed, what the outcome would be—owned by Master Sirro. But because I'd nudged his tamer out, even if somewhat inadvertently.

How far could I push him?

There was only one way to find out.

"He told me he desired me," I said, my voice gone low and sultry. Graysen's hand dropped away back to the railing. His eyes narrow sharply, the edge of the pupils bleeding gray and flecked with charcoal. "At Evvie's engagement party, he asked me to dance and hinted at the true nature of the Alverac. That's what he offered in exchange to free me from you. Me. He wants me to warm his bed."

Graysen's jaw flexed. Every inch of his body coiled tight like a predator readying to strike.

I nudged him further. I lifted my chin. "Maybe it's preferable. Perhaps I might want to with Master Sirro."

He held my gaze, unblinking, his voice rough like jagged rocks. "You're clever, little bird, you know it's not anything you'd actually want. You're one of the few who knows what it would be like to join his harem. No woman comes out of a night with him okay."

"Better that than dead."

I knew with certainty what my next move needed to be. I had to battle for every advantage that would bring me closer to freedom and use every weapon that was at my disposal.

I was Graysen Crowther's weakness, I knew that.

I couldn't say that it would be a hardship taunting him. Chemistry blazed between us, but it was simply wyrm tamer traits—chemicals and nothing more. All I needed to do was keep myself sharply focused on twisting and bending him.

Graysen had shown himself as strangely protective. He'd purposely trapped me up here in his tower so his family couldn't get to me. He refused to break me. All of this he'd hidden from his brothers. Whether he knew it or not, his wyrm tamer instincts were warring against his familial loyalty.

Though I was curious, more than anything I desired to prod him, poke him, tease him. "Could you sell me to Master Sirro? Knowing what he wanted to do with me, to me?" I splayed my fingers across his warm chest, over the curve of his heart, feeling the pulse kick up in time with mine. I sucked on my bottom lip. His eyes lowered to my mouth, and I watched his eyes darken with desire.

"Wouldn't you feel it here?" I pressed my fingertips harder into the muscle because he felt my emotions through whatever this bond was between us. "Wouldn't you feel everything I felt if he claimed me and I was frightened and in pain...terrified?"

His eyes snapped to mine. The molten desire faltered as something he'd perhaps not considered before stole his thoughts—the connection that hummed between us.

I held his gaze as I slowly brushed my hand up his chest. Delightful energy sparked through my entire body, his too. I playfully circled the hollow at the base of his throat with a single fingertip, until his body softened and lust returned and he stifled a moan by biting his lip.

Stretching up, I pressed my soft curves against him and parted my mouth in invitation. He lowered his head, drawn in and unable to resist me. My lips ghosted his, our shared breath featherlight. Hunger and want strummed through the air and his hands glided down my sides as smooth as silk. "Or, perhaps, I'd find I liked it with Master Sirro... Maybe, I'd like it very much... Would you burn with my desire if I let him inside my body? Would you feel my cries of pleasure with every single thrust?"

He froze.

His nostrils flared and his fingers bit into my flesh so hard I almost winced.

As swirls of gray swallowed the black, Graysen's eyes flooded with quick-silver striations and flecks of charcoal, until my eyes stared back at me and gleamed animal-bright. Lethal. Territorial. Possessive.

I rolled back to the flats of my feet.

Giving the curve of his pecs a quick friendly pat, with a wide, innocent smile I said brightly, "Your turn. What do you want to know about Silas Boon?"