6. Livana

Chapter 6

Livana

M usic pulses loud and intense the deeper we go into The Garden of Flame , sweeping, sharp notes that blend with thrumming beats. The tavern is expansive, ten times the size of The Red Lion , but it's packed with all manner of creatures, some dancing on the wide dance floor, others crowding the large black marble square bar in the center of the tavern.

I spot a few creatures from the four families of old—a full-blood Fae, which is rare, and more shifters. Naturally, there are more of them left since they were more prone to support one of their own kind for the throne. They may support him, but in here, they're merely customers.

There are some mortals too—I can smell them easily among the crowds of patrons—select persons Sirius deemed safe to allow them entry. I wonder if one of them would be willing to share a few mouthfuls of blood, even though those types of mortals are rare. But if they're here, that gives me hope. Because, yes, I could easily order a ration of blood from the bar, but animal isn't what I need right now. If I want to be at my strongest, I need rushing blood from a living vein. And I prefer powerful beings if it's an option, but they're often more wary than mortals.

"Where is your supplier?" Zev asks into my ear to be heard over the music and the crowd.

I nod toward a section in the far back corner of the tavern, sectioned off by thick velvet and gold ropes, two guards posted before a door that shimmers with golden light.

Zev nudges me forward with a strong hand on my back, guiding me through the crowd. I take a breath and pretend he's doing this in a protective way, like he cares about getting me through the throngs of creatures safely, not because he's protecting his possession. Sometimes, it's more fun to pretend than deal with reality, and I'm definitely not in the mood for reality tonight.

Jagger walks on the other side of me, offering a much-needed barrier from the stares that befall us. I'm used to drawing attention, but with the two drifters next to me, it's the wrong kind of attention. Naturally, these creatures are wary of drifters since they make their living hunting down monsters like them. Like me . But none make a move against them. They can't, not unless they want to deal with the repercussions from Sirius. Still, the death stares aren't exactly comforting.

Jagger doesn't seem to notice, flashing his effortless grin to anyone who dares to meet his eyes. Goddess, he even winks at a few shifters, taunting them in a silent way that screams make a move.

Trouble.

He's the kind of trouble that isn't as obvious as Zev, who grumbles and threatens murder without even opening his mouth. No, Jagger is all playful taunts and alluring teases. His entire energy exudes a lethal confidence that is almost hypnotic, every move or sound he makes a sort of soft beckoning. Even those who were glaring at him seconds ago now seem to have their interest piqued the longer he gives them attention. It's both terrifying and impressive to watch unfold.

"Goddess," I murmur as we reach the private door at the back of the tavern. I turn to Jagger, eyes wide. "You're a siren," I say in a hushed tone.

Jagger's smile deepens, and he gives me a little bow. "Half," he says. "Clever dove."

Heat flushes my body at his praise, and I do an internal check of my mental shields. They're holding, but not as strong as they should be. All the more reason to get this night going.

"It makes sense, now," I say, thinking back to the night before. His humming, the way I'd felt his influence wash over me. "The guitar, your voice." I shake my head. "I should've seen it sooner." To be fair, I've been a tad distracted.

"Oh no, dove," he says. "I'm very good at hiding. I'm surprised you see it now." He gives me a curious look, just a hint of worry creeping through the confident exterior like he's constantly realizing they're both underestimating me.

Shit.

I want them to keep underestimating me.

I need them to.

I don't want them to look deeper. The last thing I need is them finding out I'm a?—

"Livana," Sirius's voice calls to me, and I turn around, facing the private door behind the ropes and the guards, now open with the sorcerer taking up most of the entryway.

"Sirius," I say, swallowing hard. It never gets easier, seeing the way his blue-green eyes shift over me, taking stock of my body, my appearance, before focusing on the two guests accompanying me.

"They stay outside."

"Understood," I say at the same time Zev growls, "Not a chance."

I close my eyes and breathe out through my nose, my heart skipping a few beats as my anxiety peaks.

Intrigue shifts along Sirius's face, his lips pursing, the neatly trimmed goatee shifting at the slight smirk there. He walks past his guards, stopping just at the other side of the rope separating us. He's almost as tall as Zev, but he's definitely not as muscular. He's lean, his body draped in royal blue and maroon, his talisman—a necklace with a thick golden trinket at its center—rests against the center of his chest, a full display of his power.

He comes from a powerful line of Sorcerers—a distant cousin to the extinct Enchantresses. Sorcerers were never as much of a threat as the tresses, so the Collector didn't target all of them. Plus, as a shifter, he can transform his body into a wild creature, but he can't wield magic like sorcerers and tresses can… could . He needed to leave some Sorcerers alive to use for his personal gain—like Sirius. He has to bend when the Collector calls just like everyone else unless they want to face a gruesome demise.

Sirius is lucky. Most creatures who have the luxury of finding their talismans keep them hidden at all costs. But Sirius doesn't because no one would be stupid enough to try and take it from him.

Zev catalogues Sirius, his talisman, and the guards with those hunter's eyes of his, but he doesn't balk at any of it.

"The work Livana and I need to do must be in private," Sirius reiterates, looking from Zev to Jagger. "You two are more than welcome to enjoy refreshments at the bar. My treat, of course."

Zev opens his mouth—to argue, no doubt—but Jagger cuts over him. "I'll stay here," he says. "You go, Zev. Liv was right, you really do need a drink."

Liv .

The term is endearing, promising friendship and understanding in a way that calls to my hunger for just that. I ignore the sensation, stomping on it internally. There will be no understanding between the three of us. There can't be, not when we're all using each other as a means to an end.

Zev looks like he might argue but gives one grunt and stalks off toward the bar.

I raise my brows at Jagger. "That was impressive, did you?—"

"No," he says before I can finish. "Zev has worked incredibly hard to build his mental shields so he isn't susceptible to that, not that I would ever try to influence him."

I purse my lips, suddenly wanting to try my own influence on him just to see if Jagger is right.

"Bad idea, dove," Jagger says, dragging a finger under my chin to draw my attention back to him. "Try it and Zev will ensure it's the last thing you ever do."

"That only makes me want to do it more," I say, flashing him a wicked grin.

"Go," he says, motioning behind me to where Sirius has already gone back into his private room. "I'll be here when you're done."

It's as much as a threat as a promise, and I hurry into Sirius's room before the drifters can change their mind and try and drag me out of here. The sooner I get my meds and feed, the better.

"Quest," I hear Sirius call once the guard closes the door behind me. "Livana is here."

Sirius's assistant—a petite but fierce healer with hazel eyes and auburn hair hanging in curls over her shoulders—pops out of where she'd been lounging in an oversize armchair, a bright smile on her face.

She rushes across the room, arms open as she throws them around me. "It's so good to see you," she says, releasing me as she takes a step back, surveying me. "But then again, I suppose it's never good to see you."

I laugh at the contradiction, understanding. Whenever I show up, it's because I've gone too long without my meds, without them checking my condition, and it never bodes well. Still, I do enjoy her no-horseshit, carefree attitude, especially when she aims it at the all-too-serious, Sirius.

"On the table," Sirius demands, and if he was anyone else, I would've thrown a seductive little jab right back at him. Something along the lines of on all fours or on my back, how do you want me?

But he's Sirius, my supplier, my savior in every sense of the word. He has my respect more than anyone, so I don't fuck with him the way I do everyone else.

He found me half-dead near his tavern a decade ago, my heart ailment surfacing in a terrifying way that left me breathless, weak, and unable to even attempt to heal myself. Once he'd gotten me on his table, he'd used his inherit magic to stabilize me and look at my heart, explaining that I'd been born with this mutation in it, but it'd never been triggered before. Now that it surfaced, I'd have to deal with it all the time.

I climb on the table, a length of sturdy wood with a leather cushion atop it that hugs the back wall of his rooms, all of which are ornately decorated in his colors of maroon, blue, and gold. The room is cozy, with dim lighting and soft music playing from magically conjured areas around the space. To the left, opposite the lush furniture and bookcases, are shelves of various herbs, tonics, and trinkets, all with either a magical or holistic purpose, in a rainbow of colors and shapes.

"When was your last attack?" Sirius runs his fingers, which are ice-cold, along the edges of my neck as he studies my eyes, looking over me in that studious way that makes me feel more like an object than being.

"Night before last," I answer. "I only had half a dose left."

He flashes me a chiding look, one that makes me go from object to scorned youngling in a split second. "You're smarter than that, Livana," he says, continuing his inspection of my body.

His fingers pause over my right hip, gently pressing the area. "Any pain here?"

I shake my head, relief washing over me as he continues to the other side, then back up toward the center of my chest. Quest brings him a tray of vials and herbs, assisting him effortlessly while flashing me comforting gazes.

Sirius flicks his fingers, sparks of gold swirling above the center of my chest as he weaves and works them into a circular design that hover above me. The light pulses in time with my heart before it crackles and reshapes itself into the very image of what lies beneath my flesh. The pumping muscle is outlined in gold, veins shimmering in color with each beat.

My spirit deflates. I've seen the image so many times I know there's been no change, not that I ever had any hope there would be. Still, it would've been nice to garner some kind of win today.

Quest glances from the image to me, then gently touches my shoulder in silent comfort.

I take it. Savor it.

She's pure kindness in a cruel, unforgiving world. If I was more selfish, I'd never leave The Garden of Flame just to try and breathe life into the friendship she's always so graciously offered. I could dance here, feed here, have access to my meds here. It would be a good, easy life, until I eventually slip and ruin it for everyone.

No, I wouldn't do that to her, to Sirius, or to any of the creatures who find refuge here. Besides, the drifters forced my hand, gave me an opportunity I couldn't refuse.

"Has it worsened?" I finally ask when Sirius has stared at the image of my heart for a few beats past comfortable.

He glances at Quest, a flash of concern in his blue-green eyes.

"Fuck," I say. "How bad?"

"A branch has stemmed off of the faulty pathway," he says, switching back to all-powerful sorcerer in an instant.

He points to the pathway illuminated in gold as my heart beats. He's shown it to me several times before, the length of vein in my pumping muscle that shouldn't be there. And now, a new, tiny branch stems off of it in another direction. The crackles of light flicker in time with the acceleration of my heartbeat, causing me to breathe deeply to try and soothe it.

"Which means…" I let the sentence hang there, doing my best to look at Sirius and not my faulty heart on display.

Sirius waves his hands, and the gold light disappears. I sit up, letting my legs dangle off the edge of the table as he turns to the tray of vials and herbs Quest brought over to him. He hands me a small glass jar, a crushed herb and powder mixture lining the bottom. I immediately throw back the contents, swallowing down the slightly sweet substance before taking the offered water from Quest and sip.

"It means more attacks," he says plainly, if not a little disappointed. I can understand why, he's the most powerful sorcerer the continent has ever known—even the Collector gives him a wide berth in the hopes he'll always remain loyal to him and answer the call to fight if asked. I'm not sure Sirius would, if the Collector gave him an order, but I certainly hope I'll never to find out.

Since meeting, he's been stumped on why he can't cure me. And he's tried, many times. Some methods painful, others pointless. The only thing he's managed to do is create my medication, the sweet powder that helps calm my heart during an attack, helps it slow enough to not take the wrong, traitorous pathways that work against me. It's also laced with healing properties that help when the threat of starvation leaves me weak or if I happen to come across any silver. He gives me the concoction in exchange for rare plants or stones I come across during my constant travels. Tonight, I hand him an orchid from my satchel that has healing properties and only blooms for a few short weeks in Riverthorne's forests. Quest takes it from him, moving to secure it in one of his many glass jars.

"More attacks," I finally say. Brilliant. "Will that Orchid buy me a double supply this time?" I ask. "It might be a while before I can make it back to Destowne."

He pauses as he mixes the medication, casting a curious glance over me. "Why are you traveling with two drifters, Livana?"

"They're good lays," I offer, and he shakes his head, returning to his work.

"The silver-haired one is quite…delectable," Quest says from where she waits next to Sirius, and his head snaps to her. "What?" she asks innocently. "He is."

Sirius looks like he might strike Zev down for Quest's comment alone, so I hurry to add, "They're both delectable," I say, laughing with Quest. "But they're a means to an end."

"Who's end?" Sirius asks, waving his hands over the collection of vials he's filled with all manner of powders, herbs, and minerals. Colorful gold light sparks over the medication, enhancing it with magic before he seals the corks.

"Does it matter?" I ask, taking the offered vials and carefully placing them in my satchel. I'm half surprised Zev let me continue to carry my own things, certain he'd take it away just to punish me some more, but he didn't. He's either that confident I won't run or that he'll catch me. Either way, it's a small comfort.

"You're starving," Sirius says, motioning to what has to be a dusting of purple beneath my eyes.

"You're right," I say. "As always."

"Why do you keep doing that to yourself?" Quest asks. "You could stay here. There are plenty of mortal donors who could help. I daresay a few non-mortals who would be amiable to the idea. And we have space for a new dancer?—"

"I appreciate the offer," I say, not for the first time as she paints a beautiful picture for me. "But you know me," I say. "I live for the road."

Not a lie. I do love to travel, but it's more out of a necessity for everyone else's safety than a need to discover new territories.

And soon, it'll all be over.

My lifelong journey for strength and power to do what I need to do is here, only a few weeks away. I doubt I'll survive it, but there will be peace in knowing I'll leave this world better off than I came into it.

There is relief in that notion, that certainty, even if there is just as much fear of the unknown.

Sirius looks at me like he doesn't believe a word I'm saying, but he often looks at me like that so it's easy to disregard.

I hop off the table, returning Quest's hug before Sirius walks me toward the doorway. "How long?" I ask as his hand lingers on the handle.

"You know I can't answer that," he says. "Your condition isn't rapidly progressing, but if the attacks get more violent…" He shrugs.

We've been over it before.

If my heart continues to shift, continues to take the wrong pathways and beat out of rhythm, it will slowly shut down my nervous system—oxygen, blood, brain function, all of it. Not even my special combination of power can stop it.

"Any advice?" I ask as he opens the door.

Jagger sits up a little straighter, the guards having allowed him beyond the ropes to wait on one of the lush couches in Sirius's private section of the tavern.

"Feed," Sirius answers, a hint of hope in his voice. "Often. And from powerful creatures," he says, casting a quick glance toward Jagger. "The more powerful the better. It's in the blood, Livana. I've told you before. Animal blood barely sustains you, let alone the distanced desire of an audience." He lowers his voice, his hands on my shoulders as he turns me, keeping our conversation private. "You need physical contact as well as powerful blood. If you did those two things more often, we might see a vast improvement. If you had someone to Link with you?—"

"No," I cut him off. "That's not an option."

Disappointment shapes his face.

"But," I say, swallowing hard. "I'll try." Not the Linking part, that way leads to disaster, but the powerful blood part. I need all the help I can get before I make it to Lingate. "I will. I promise. Just…not enough to Link."

Sirius nods, squeezing my shoulders before releasing me. "You need to feed," he says, loud enough for Jagger to hear as I walk toward him. "Now." He flicks his fingers, a colorful shot of magic hitting the ink on my wrist. "You can't leave without doing it."

I part my lips. " Cheater ," I fire at his back as he walks to his room.

"Winner," he says, then shuts the door behind him.

I glance at one of his guards. "Where are the mortal donors located tonight?" I ask.

"They're—"

"Not necessary, dove," Jagger cuts over the guard, standing swiftly from the couch and sliding his fingers around my wrist.

"You heard Sirius," I say, looking up at him. "I can't leave without feeding. No matter how badly you and Zev want to get back on the road."

"I heard him," he says before eying the guard behind me. "Where is that private suite we talked about?"

I furrow my brow as the guard explains, then Jagger tugs me past the ropes and through the crowd, stopping once we've reached the door the guard indicated. It's one of Sirius's rooms he rents out to travelers who need to stay for more than a night.

"What are you doing, Jagger?" I ask as he swings open the door and pulls me inside.

Anticipation flares in my chest.

"I don't want you out of my sight again," he says, shutting and locking the door behind him.

I swallow hard. "I didn't run."

"I know," he says. "I worried about you. I didn't like it."

I arch a brow at him, folding my arms over my chest. "You're worried about your meal ticket."

"Can you blame me?"

I shrug, I suppose not. Not when I'm using them the same way they're using me.

"Locking me in a room won't make the magic command wear off," I say, holding up my wrist to show the glowing ink. "I have to feed?—"

"You will, dove." Jagger crosses the room in two large strides, fingers dragging over my wrist to pull me close, a look of pure mischief on his face. "From me ."