Page 71 of Fallen Nocturne

He watches me for another moment before turning back toward the entrance.

Arescaine studies the building. “Kharlis will be in a private room. Somewhere secure where he can meet with the fae commanders without being interrupted.”

“How do we get in?” I ask.

“Front door. We’re customers like anyone else.” He looks at me. “But you let me do the talking. Your accent will give you away. I will compel them.”

I nod.

We approach the entrance. Two guards flank the door. Both are High Fae, dressed in fitted black coats embroidered with silver moths. One raises a hand before we can pass.

“Names and purpose.”

Arescaine looks directly into his eyes. Something dark passes through his gaze, subtle as a shadow moving beneath water.

“We are important guests. You have already admitted us,” he says.

The guard’s raised hand slowly lowers. His expression goes slack. “I have already admitted you.”

The second guard blinks, then steps aside as if nothing is amiss. “Enjoy your evening.”

Arescaine walks through without looking back. I follow before the compulsion can fade.

Inside, the Painted Moth is overwhelming.

The main room is cavernous, filled with cushioned seating areas and low tables. Beautiful servers move between them gracefully. Glamour and magic make everything feel slightly unreal. A haunting, seductive melody floats through the room.

I remember this. The music, the scene, and the way my heart had pounded as I’d stood in almost this exact spot.

“This way,” Arescaine murmurs.

He moves through the room with confidence. I follow, keeping my head down.

We pass through several corridors. The Painted Moth is larger than it looks from outside. It’s a maze of rooms and hallways that twist back on themselves. Arescaine stops at a corner, pressing himself against the wall. I copy him.

Voices ahead.

One of them is Lord Kharlis.

“—assured me the information was worth the price,” Kharlis is saying.

“We’ll determine that.” Another voice, male. It carries the effortless authority of someone accustomed to obedience. “You’ve been useful, Lord Kharlis. But usefulness can expire.”

“I’ve given you everything you asked for.” Kharlis’s voice tightens. “Troop movements, supply routes, every defensive position along the northern border.”

“And you’ll continue to do so. After all, you have so much to gain when we win.” The fae commander sounds amused.

Footsteps approach from the adjoining passage. Arescaine catches my wrist and draws me backward just before Kharlis and the others round the corner. A door opens across from us, spilling golden light into the corridor, and four figures enter the private room.

Arescaine moves before the door can swing closed. He pulls me into a narrow alcove concealed behind a carved panel. It is barely large enough for one person, much less two, and appears to be used for storing linens and bottles of wine. The warped door doesn’t latch properly behind us, leaving a thin crack of light and a sliver of view into the corridor beyond.

I am pressed against Arescaine in the cramped darkness. The solid warmth of his body surrounds me, along with the faint scent of smoke and winter air clinging to his clothes. His wings curve tightly around us, their folded edges brushing my shoulders whenever he breathes.

Focus. Focus on Kharlis.

Through the crack, I can see into the private room. Deep carpets cover the floor, and ornate chairs surround a polished table laden with wine, jeweled goblets and untouched platters of food.

Lord Kharlis stands beside the table. Across from him wait three fae commanders, each wearing the crimson-and-black insignia of Avalon.