Though she longed to let her wrecked golden slippers move her far, far away.
The Ruiner crossed his arms over his chest, his gray-gloved hands gripping his biceps with knuckles aimed her way. “Don’t you wish to hear your options?”
She scowled at his malicious teasing. “Musetta I am, but I will not incite you to more enthusiastic methods of murder. Specifically, my murder.”
Raze drummed his fingers. “The Queen wants you out of her sight. Death would do. But exile accomplishes much the same results.”
Exile? Her heart twisted in her chest. “Exactly the same results for me. I cannot leave the phaedrealii.”
Raze snorted. “Many musetta have journeyed out of court. Where do you think humans find their inspiration?”
His offhand reassurance gave her no comfort. “I never wanted to inspire humans.”
“And yet you’ve done it so well,” Raze purred. He fingered the torn neckline of her veils. “You are everything a man could want to inspire him.”
She leaned away, holding her breath against the stink of lightning that clung to him. Out from the gap of his sleeve, a hairy gray spider as big as the vizier’s hand scuttled over her breast. She gasped as it pattered across her skin, but Raze’s grip trapped her.
The spider gathered the edges of the tear. With a few pumps of its spinneret, it laced the rip, then it vanished up Raze’s sleeve. Adelyn sagged back, and this time the vizier let her go.
He glanced over his massive shoulder. “William, come. And bring the key.”
A hysterical sob congealed in Adelyn’s throat. “Why is he here?”
“He wanted to see you off. And to tell you—”
William elbowed Raze aside as only one of the Queen’s lovers would dare. “Sweet muse, I had no idea it would end like this.”
“You are fucking our Queen,” she snapped. “Yet you wrote a poem to my eyes. How else would it end?”
William’s cherubic blonde curls bobbed as he ducked his head, though his ravenous gaze on her was anything but saintly.