Chapter 18

From the darkness came a familiar voice.

“Bravo!” said Madam Moncrief. “You two put on quite a show.”

As Ursula’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out Madam Moncrief’s form.

“My fiancée was not part of the deal,” said Bael. “You had no right to bring her on stage.”

“No, but it will be the talk of the town,” said Madam Moncrief. “The people loved it.”

Given the crowd’s frantic cheering, she wasn’t wrong about that. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s an arsehole though.

Bael’s gray eyes pierced the darkness. “Enough time-wasting. Now it is time for you to follow through on your end of the bargain. Where is Lucius?”

Madam Moncrief sighed, just as the lanterns began to glow with orange light once more. “I could have made you famous. But, as you wish. Ruth, take them to the Royal Suite.”

“The king has a suite here?” asked Ursula.

Madam Moncrief laughed, her voice tinkling. “No, that’s just what we call it. It’s the largest private room. But you’ll need to change. You look like you just visited a slaughterhouse. Ruth will return you to my boudoir. You can clean up there.”

Ruth beckoned them forward with her mother-of-pearl blade, which she seemed a little too fond of.

They followed her back through the smoky warren of corridors, into a large room decorated with colorful silks. A tuxedo had been laid out on a pink, fluffy bed.

Ursula frowned at the wounds on Bael’s back. “Can you get some bandages, please?”

Ruth nodded, then slipped out of the room.

“Does it hurt?”

Bael grunted. “I’ve had worse.”

Ursula moved closer, studying his skin. Blood oozed from the pair of wounds Abrax had left when he stole Bael’s wings. And over those scars, welts where the whip had struck him.

“Sorry about the whole whipping thing.”

Before Bael could reply, Ruth opened the door and handed Ursula a roll of gauze.

Using one of Madam Moncrief’s pink towels, Ursula wiped the blood from Bael’s wounds as gently as she could, while Bael stood perfectly still. When his back was clean, she bound the wounds tightly with gauze, stretching her arms to reach all the way around his enormous chest. Ruth stared on, dagger in her hand.

Psycho.

“Thank you, Ursula,” said Bael.

Ruth opened her eyes wide, pointing at the tuxedo on the bed. She made no move to turn around or leave the room while Bael changed, instead staring at him, wide-eyed. He disappeared into the hall. Ruth and Ursula stared at each other in silence.

A minute later, Bael reappeared dressed in his tuxedo and lion mask. “Take us to the Drake.”

Ruth led them up a long, creaking flight of stairs to a small landing. Ursula was sure her delicate heels would snap at any minute, sending her tumbling down the stairs. A large door stood at the top, emblazoned with a golden crest that featured a topless woman. Ah. The Royal Suite. Classy.

Ursula adjusted her mask as Ruth knocked on the door. After a few moments, a giant man opened the door.

The hair rose on the back of Ursula’s neck. And we’re on the right track. She recognized him from the dragon’s lair—he was the dragon shifter who’d been in charge of keeping an eye on the captive supermodels. Some dragons hoarded gold. Other dragons hoarded women like they were possessions. Lucius happened to like both.

“We asked not be bothered,” said the large man.

“I was told there were gentlemen here playing whist,” said Bael. “I was hoping for the opportunity to play a few hands.”

The guard took a moment to size Bael up. With an almost imperceptible nod, he said, “Let me confer with my party.”

The dragon shifter closed the door, and Ursula and Bael waited in silence until the shifter pulled open the door again.

He met Bael’s gaze. “The buy-in is one hundred and fifty pounds.”

“That is perfectly acceptable,” said Bael. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed the guard a leather purse. “You can hold this for the duration.” The guard opened the purse and peeked inside. He nodded again, then slowly opened the door wider.

Bael crossed inside, but when Ursula started after him, the guard blocked her path.

“Just you, sir.”

Bael didn’t blink. “But the woman brings me luck. If she can’t come, I’ll have to take that money back.” He started to reach for the purse.

From behind him, another voice called out. “Oh, let him in, Harry. Someone needs to replace Hamish. He’s completely trollied, as usual.”

Another voice slurred in a thick Scottish accent. “Who took my fuckin’ bottle a gin, you fuckin’…”

The guard opened the door wide enough to allow Ursula to enter. Around a table sat four enormous men. Like Bael and Ursula, they also wore masks, but theirs were the scaled faces of dragons. Three wore masks in varying shades of green. The fourth’s mask was dyed a deep red. And that would be Lucius—the Drake.

When he spoke, his voice confirmed his identity. “As I was saying, you may take Hamish’s seat. He was just popping out for a fag break.” Lucius said it with the firmness of an order.

Immediately, one of the green-masked shifters stood and stumbled away from them. As Bael took his seat, Ursula got a better look at the room. Behind the dragons, flickering lantern light washed over an oak bar and a small stage. Jazz played from an ancient-looking gramophone, and a topless girl, who couldn’t have been much older than Ursula, danced halfheartedly, her eyes glazed. As she hadn’t been invited to sit, Ursula stood awkwardly in the corner of the room.

The rest of the room was richly upholstered in cream and gold-colored fabrics, along with more of the thick Persian rugs she’d seen in the brothel. Rows of windows surrounded them, and as she watched, Hamish struggled to open a pair of French doors to a rooftop patio. Ursula could find no sign of Excalibur, but she supposed Lucius was unlikely to just leave it lying about.

“Let me deal you in.” Lucius shuffled a deck of cards, and began to toss them out to Bael and the other shifters. Once he’d finished, he leaned back in his chair. “We will be playing by Hoyle’s rules. You may bet after every trick.”

Lucius looked at his cards, then laid a small pile of gold sovereigns on the table. They began playing their cards one at time. It took Ursula a minute or two to deduce that Bael was paired with one of the green-headed dragons, while Lucius was paired with the other. As the game went on, Bael began to win trick after trick.

Lucius laid down his final card. “Well played, sir.”

Bael quietly raked his gold sovereigns across the table.

As Lucius dealt the next hand, Ursula realized she’d been forgotten, and she surveyed the room again. The topless dancer continued to gyrate listlessly. Hamish stood on the balcony, smoke rising from his cigarette.

Ursula crossed to the bar, her gaze flicking to Lucius as she passed him. Her heart leapt. She recognized the pommel of the sword strapped to his waist as Excalibur’s. Bingo. Now we just need to find a way to steal it.

She tried to catch Bael’s eye, but he was focused on the game. She poured herself a glass of wine at the bar, lifting it to her lips to mimic drinking it. I’m getting the distinct impression that Bael might end up gambling for the sword itself.

He lost a crucial trick in the next hand, but in the following hand won back all the money he’d lost. A few hands later, Lucius stopped the game and asked the topless dancer to bring over an ancient-looking bottle of scotch and some whisky tumblers. After pouring everyone three fingers of the amber liquid, he dealt another hand. Hamish returned from his smoke, stumbling over to lean on the bar next to Ursula.

“It’s time I won some money,” Lucius announced to no one in particular. He threw down all of his remaining coins. “I’m all in on this trick.”

Ursula looked to Bael, but again he ignored her. Without speaking, he pushed in a matching number of coins, scraping them over the table. Lucius flipped over his card, revealing the king of clubs, and the other shifters followed. Bael was last. He took a sip of his scotch. Then he flipped over his card.

Ace of clubs.

Lucius growled a swear, throwing his drink across the room. Glass shattered against the wall.

“Well, that does me for the night,” Lucius announced, trying to regain his composure.

“You’re finished?” asked Bael.

“That’s right,” said Lucius, smoothing out his bright red hair. Even with his face hidden behind the dragon mask, Ursula could tell he was on the edge of flying into a rage.

“Perhaps you would consider gambling something else?” Bael proposed.

Lucius paused. “You wish to make a non-monetary wager?”

“Perhaps,” said Bael, deftly setting the trap. “What else of value do you have?”

Lucius leaned forward. “If I am to make a gamble such as the one you propose, it will have to be on equal terms.”

“Of course,” said Bael.

“Then I’ll wager this sword for your lucky kitty.” He pointed at Ursula, licking his lips, and her stomach turned.

Bael reached across the table, shaking Lucius’s hand. “I believe we have a deal.”

“Excellent.”

Lucius collected all the cards, and began to reshuffle. “We play one trick. If I win, I add your woman to my collection. If you win, you take the sword.” He dealt the cards, until at last, he flipped over the last card. Hearts was trump. As Lucius studied his hand, his foot moved under the table. Gently, he tapped his partner’s calf.

Cheating, of course.

Bael’s partner went first, leading with a jack of hearts. Lucius’s partner followed with a ten of hearts, followed by Bael with the king of hearts.

Ursula held her breath as she waited for Lucius to play his card. As long as he didn’t have an ace, Excalibur was all theirs.

Lucius flipped over his card, and Ursula sucked in a short breath as she glimpsed the ace of hearts.