A Labyrinth of Fangs and Thorns (Hardcover)

It hadn’t taken Haze long to track down the Well-blessed human. It made sense her scent clung to the subterranean hallways and dirt tunnels beneath the palace. This was where most of the lower-level palace servants were quartered. Upon finding the red door with a hint of lingering feminine sweetness, he’d entered. 

Inside was a bed covered in velvet and pillows. A poorly fueled and flickering manabee lamp buzzed on the wall beside old threadbare tapestries depicting colorful pixies dancing in the twilight. Scattered on the bedside table, rickety wooden chair, and sideboard were pixie trinkets and knickknacks. A jar of wing polish—unused. A black glass mirror. And pots of pixie face paints and jewelry. 

This was all a lie. 

All of it too obvious to be honest… except the collection of rocks on the sideboard. He picked up a few and looked beneath. He sniffed them. No mana inside. No magical properties. Just rocks. In a drawer beside her bed he found a lock of silver hair, and a scrap of purple fabric. He picked up each one and scented them, but they were old. Any sign of the fae or person they belonged to was long gone. 

Haze’s shadow tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned, he found it pointing at the closed door, warning him. Footsteps. Quickly, Haze gathered his shadow around him and sank back to stand in the corner of the room where it was darkest. He waited, his breath held and his mana brimming beneath the surface of his control, ready to be deployed at a thought’s notice. 

The door opened. 

And in walked the prettiest, most delicate female Haze had ever laid eyes on. Strips of leather and ribbon wove through her peach-colored wavy hair—dark at the roots, light at the ends as though each strand had been dipped into an artist’s paint pot. Big brown eyes searched the room, drawing him in like a magnet, making him wonder what had put the sadness there. Her features were doll-like, yet a proud, unyielding jaw made Haze think she had a spine made of steel. Fragile yet strong. Like a poppy flower.

Boning on her black velvet dress hugged her waist and pushed up her modest breasts. A thin vein meandered deep into the V of her bodice, showing him exactly where to bury his face and feed. Haze’s mouth watered and he shook his head in self-reproach. He shouldn’t be thinking about feeding from her, no matter how enticing she smelled. And he most certainly should not be this attracted to her. 

She was his mission, and in need of rescue, not another predator. 

He lifted his nose and inhaled, drawing in her sweet scent. Definitely not pix. Human pretending to be fae. 

She bent down as a little fluffy thing came out from beneath her bed. It hopped onto her lap and nibbled from her fingers. Then he realized what sort of creature it was. A wolpertinger. He jolted, arm flying out to warn her, but then snatched it back and held his breath. She giggled and talked to it. She was either naïve to a wolpertinger’s true purpose. Or mated.

Unease prickled him. The thought of this female mated didn’t sit well with him. 

She froze and stared at his dark corner. 

She can’t see me.

Impossible. 

But, perhaps she sensed him because she dipped fingers into a leathery pouch at her waist, mumbled something to the wolpertinger, and blew shimmering blue dust in Haze’s direction. A bloom of cloud filled the room. Haze sneezed, giving away his position. For Crimson’s sake. 

“Show yourself,” she demanded, and shoved the fluffy antlered menace beneath her bed.

He allowed the shadows to peel away. The moment he emerged, her eyes widened. She looked up, and up, to his face. Her complexion turned bone white. 

“Guardian,” she gasped, horrified.