Shadowbound (The Dark Arts Book 1) by Bec McMaster Read Free Book Online Page A

fondness in them, as Miss Martin used his hand to gain her feet. "Remember? It's been three months. And Rathbourne wasn't mauling me, he was..."
    "I thought it was an attack." Lucien scowled.
    "How much?" Cross demanded, taking the stage in sharp strides and thundering down the stairs to meet her.
    "How much what?" she replied.
    "How much will it cost to get you back?"
    "Annabelle does just as well onstage as I. You should be thankful that someone else is willing to put up with you."
    "Aye." The man took her fingers, pressing a kiss to the back of them, as if Luc didn't exist. "But she lacks your presence."
    "She lacks my rather impressive bosom," Miss Martin shot back. "You know my reasons. They haven't changed."
    Something silent crossed between the pair of them. "Bah," Cross sneered. "Respectability is little more than a sham."
    "Not to me, it's not. Besides, I'm busy," Miss Martin added. "I have my studies to attend to, before I take the next level tests, let alone my duties as Drake's seneschal." As if the matter were dealt with, she buffed her lips against Cross's smooth cheek, and gave him a wry smile. "I miss you too, Remy."
    "Is that why you're here?"
    "I wish it were," Miss Martin replied, and she meant it, which was somewhat baffling, for Lucien couldn't find many redeeming traits in the man.
    "How's that pup, de Wynter?"
    "As well as can be," Miss Martin answered obliquely.
    "Trouble?"
    "Brewing, but not here yet." Taking Cross's hand, she tucked her own through his arm. "I need to speak to you privately. Are you coming, Rathbourne? Or would you like to guard the theatre?"
    "Wouldn't miss it," he replied, and followed the pair of them into the darkened bowels of backstage to Cross's private rooms.
    "Well?" Cross asked, pouring them all a finger of whiskey once they arrived. "What brings you to my door?"
    "Bad tidings, unfortunately," Miss Martin said, tossing her pretty hat on a chair and turning serious as she accepted the glass he offered.
    "Whiskey?" Cross challenged, and Lucien accepted the glass, sniffing at the amber liquid as he surveyed the room with all its various accouterments.
    There was a sarcophagus shaped item in the corner, painted to resemble an artifact from ancient Egypt. Lucien crossed toward it, the gaslight lengthening his shadow so it loomed over the wall. A pile of artifact lay dusty on the shelves—a small mini portrait of a man in Tudor fashions, a set of gemstones, and a coiled snake that almost seemed to watch him—
    "Don't touch it."
    Lucien froze, violence notching each muscle in his outstretched arm as he met Cross's stare. Something about the man rubbed him the wrong way.
    "Don't touch anything," Cross added, pouring himself another dram, his fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle. "You never know what might bite you."
    Lucien looked at the lifeless statue of a cobra, which he'd been about to touch. Oriental scrawling's tattooed its skin in black ink. Or what he hoped was ink. As he stared at it, he almost felt like it moved, the jewel in the center of its forehead shimmering.
    "There's sorcery here," he said, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, as if of his own accord. "Though it's foreign to me."
    "It's Hindu magic. That of the Nagi," Cross explained, sounding as if he was settling in for a lecture. "Used to protect against the rakshasa."
    "Indian demon spirits."
    "In a simplistic version, yes." Cross set the glass to his lips, his eyes glittering. "I consider myself somewhat of a collector of relics and artifacts."
    "Which is precisely why I came to you," Ianthe cut in, before he could elaborate. "I need to know, if a particular relic went missing, who might have taken it? Or commissioned the theft? You belong to the Dark discipline. You should know."
    "I haven't been a part of that Order mess for years," Cross snorted, though his interest looked piqued. "Which relic?"
    She stayed silent.
    Cross scowled. "It would highly depend on the relic, but if it's something