Eudora flipped off the ledge, planted her feet on the side of the granite tower, and dashed toward the bustling street below, dodging windowsills and flagpoles, kicking off sandstone cornices. The wind howled in her ears, tearing at her fluttering blouse, running its wild fingers through her hair. In seconds the hard ground swelled up to greet her, magnifying at terrifying speed. When she was down to five stories high she kicked off the wall. For a few glorious seconds she was airborne, diving over the street in an elegant arc; then she somersaulted, blunting the impact as she landed on the flat roof of the Merchant’s Guild headquarters—a squat, ugly building opposite the Gorvernor’s Palace. For years it’d been her landing pad. She rolled, rolled, rolled to her feet and landed in a crouch. The rows of red-baked shingles were peppered with dents and craters, relics of past landings before she’d learned how to fall properly.

Dusting herself off, she laughed breathlessly and stretched her shoulders. For a few seconds she let herself soak in the soft sunlight. Then she set off along the rooftops, hopping nimbly and sure-footed across sloped roofs and steep drops.

Soon she’d leapt to the building she was looking for. Planting a hand over a rooftop balcony, she dropped to the alley below. She landed in a crouch.

It was an alley like any other in the city’s less glamorous districts, riddled with damp, lined with litter and black mold—not an aboveground sewer, like some alleys in the Outskirts, but it was as unseemly a sight as any in the Oasis proper. A sickly rotting stench drifted over to her; tiny insects buzzed to and fro in small clouds.

She strutted over to a section of wall with an unassuming iron plate bolted to the side and knocked ten times. Some longs were strong, some soft, and they were spaced unevenly—in a specific pattern. She waited.

“Who is it?” came a high-pitched voice from within.

“You know who I am,” she said, licking her lips. She tucked a few stray strands of hair behind an ear, patted at her outfit to make sure it was all settled down. All of a sudden she regretted not letting Yi apply a dusting of rouge. And what if her hair was a bird’s nest? She patted at it, suddenly self-conscious. She should’ve brought a pocket-mirror…

A section of the wall slid open, offering a sliver of the room beyond. Dark, damp. The only light was a single cone of sunlight streaking down through the dusty air, through some window in the roof. A long row of cabinets shoved up against the walls and mounds of crates landscaped the room. Laughter leaked out from within.

A greasy-haired boy squinted out at her. “It is you,” he muttered.

“Good day, Slicknail,” she said, smiling. Her heart fluttered in her chest. “Is Fei-Fei in?”

Nervously the boy nodded. The door swung fully open.

“Sir Rat-King!” He called. “You have a visitor…”

A circle of boys sat lazily around a round stone table, cards and green-glowing bottles scattered on the table’s surface. There was a strong whiff of wine; the room was musty, dusty, as though it’d sat for decades unused before its current occupants found it. It looked like a repurposed warehouse.

Eudora only had eyes for the man at the head of the table. He was big as a half-giant, burly, built out of cords of steel-like muscle. Two long scars split his face in an X-shape, but he still managed to look devastatingly handsome. His features were proud and regal, exactly the sort one might imagine on a fairy-tale prince; a sharp, chiseled jaw, lightly dappled by a stubble; brown eyes flecked with gold; a manly nose straight as an arrow. He was half-naked, lounging against a wide leather seat, letting the sunlight drench his olive skin, accentuating his broad, sculpted chest, flowing down to the hard cuts of his abdomen. She was salivating just looking at him.

The two women at his side were practically drooling onto the table, drinking him in with their eyes. When Eudora entered he was laughing and slapping his thigh. But he froze as soon as he saw her.

She smiled, waving at him. “Fei-fei!” His gaze locked onto hers; an electric thrill ran up her back. Then he stood, knocking over his chair, and crossed the room in three long strides.

“‘Dora,” he breathed in a low growl. One powerful arm seized her by her lower back; the other enveloped her shoulders. He dragged her into a kiss. He kissed her like a drowning man gasping for air, like a beast intent on devouring her whole; he was fierce, insistent, his skin hot against hers. Then his teeth nipped her lips, sucked gently at her bottom lip, and they pulled away from each other, panting heavily.

She had half a mind to tear off that kilt, spring free that monster between his legs, and fuck him silly on the spot.

“I missed you,” he murmured, and she could tell by his eyes that he meant it. He didn’t mean her body—that much was obvious enough—he missed her; he was hurt she hadn’t come to visit last week. So cute. “What kept you so long?” He seized her by the shoulders, frowning. His tone grew urgent. “Have you been well? Is your father treating you right?”

“I’m well as can be,” she said airily. “Father’s been a nuisance, but that’s how he is. He’s got me up to my tits in Tournament training—woah!”

He’d leaned in for another kiss; it took all her self-restraint to fend him off. She put a finger to his lips. “Easy, boy,” she tutted. He blinked, looking like a kicked puppy. Then she leaned in, whispering in his ears. “I’ll visit your quarters tonight. You’ll have me all to yourself then…”

She felt him stiffen; she saw his face light up.

The Unruly Bastard of Azcan, Feiyang Shen, the #1 Seed in the Tournament—and the most feared gang boss in all the Oasis—was putty at her fingertips.

To everyone else he was sharp, aloof, angry. Abrasive. But she held the key which broke him open; it exhilarated her much more than it frightened her. His big, strong hands were still clamped around her. She was a smidge worried he might never let her go.

Gently she pried a hand off her shoulder. “So? How did that spice heist go?”

Feiyang grinned savagely and jerked his head at a big wooden crate to his side; the room was stuffed full of them. “Perfectly. We robbed the Guild of Mercers blind. Twenty shipments. They’ll pin it on the Sand-Devils, I fancy.” Then he bit a corner of his lip; he brushed at her hair, twirling it around his fingertips as though it were made of priceless silk.

“Don’t change the subject. You ought to visit more often,” he said, pressing her head to his chest. His stubble tickled at her cheek as he nuzzled her. “You can’t know how much I think about you. When you didn’t come last week, I—” He swallowed. So cute! “Please, at least send a messenger. I… I worry about you. If anyone hurts you, you must tell me.”

She preened. There was something in this boy’s gaze she adored—like he saw her precisely as she was meant to be seen; he worshipped her, appreciated every curve of her, even those nasty grains of weight she’d put on at her hips. Behind him, the two sluts who’d been at his side looked murderous.

“Silly Fei-Fei. Don’t you know who I am?” She tsk-ed, pulling away. “I take care of myself just fine, thank you.” Gingerly, she pried off the hand on her lower back. It’d been slipping lower and lower. Naughty boy. “I’ve actually come about another matter.”

Feiyang frowned. “What is it?”

“I understand you’ve been tracking an Outsider boy. Talented artificer, a little shorter than me, unruly dark locks, dashing smile, boyish good looks…”

“Io Rust.” Annoyance flashed across his face. “The man is a degenerate. An unserious fool. What could you possibly want with him?”

“I want to know where he is. You’ve put a Rat on him, yes?”

He paused. His frown deepened. “Maybe I have. Why? And why describe him so—‘unruly locks’? ‘Good looks’? ‘dashing smile’?”

She laughed, slapping at his chest. “Jealous, Fei-Fei? Don’t be so sensitive. Aren’t you meant to be a King?” She took a page out of Yi’s book. “Sentimentality is unbecoming of you.”

“Dora. Stop it.” His eyes were fierce and hot. “You’re trying to anger me. I know your tricks. Don’t play with me. “ He softened, swallowing. “I wish you wouldn’t tug at my feelings… I wish you respected me enough for that. Do you?”

Eudora grinned. It’s working, isn’t it? His breath was coming in short, tight spurts. It didn’t take much to set off her Fei-Fei; he was a tightly-wound ball of emotion. But he didn’t showed it; he just got more quiet, more abrupt, more tight under that cool exterior. Until it all blew up at once.

“Don’t flatter yourself, darling,” she drawled. “I’m simply giving you an apt description. The boy made quite a ruckus at the Guild. He’ll be in the Tournament too. Can’t I scout an intriguing competitor without you crawling all over me?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t be childish. Where is he?”

His jaw worked, tightening; his whole upper body was tensed, stiff. Then he sighed; he turned his head away from her. So damned cute! “On twelfth street, near the cathedral. They think he’s headed to Chef Gao’s House of Oysters.”

“Thank you,” she purred, pressing up against him. “Was that so hard?”

She found it unspeakably endearing how such this supposedly cold, hard man couldn’t help but wear his heart on his sleeve around her. She could see the hurt written on his face.

“Oh! There is another reason I’m seeking him out…”

He turned even stiffer, if that was possible.

“Sometimes, I’m in the mood for a big, juicy, manly steak,” she whispered in his hear, planting both hands on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat quicken.

“But other times… I want to sample the menu. See what I’m missing. Try some oysters, perhaps…”

She licked her lips.

He was so mad he could hardly contain himself; she felt his arms quivering uncontrollably, saw the veins sticking out against his neck, saw his eyes turn bloodshot. “DORA!!” His voice came in a predator’s snarl. An choking gray aura vast and thick as the night sky started to leak out of him.

She giggled. “I’m only teasing, darling!”

Then she hopped nimbly away from him and strutted off, swaying her hips as she did, giving him a good view as she went.

She loved getting him all pent-up. He would never strike her; there was too much noble in him for that. That was her Feiyang—his father was Patriarch Shen, head of the Merchant’s Guild; his mother was an Outsider, and he was the disowned bastard son. He was a noble and a savage fused together in one sexy body, and it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. Mm. She’d enjoy visiting his chambers tonight. The angrier she got him, the rougher he was with her. Just how I like it. When she fooled around with other men he got positively beastly. She was grinning as she strode out the door.

In the meantime…Io Rust. Let’s see if you’re worth my time.