Fate's Edge

found herself face-to-face with Sebastian. She looked into his eyes and saw a completely different kind of threat. He inclined his head in a mocking bow and kissed the air.
    It took everything she had to keep her expression calm.
    The man smiled, showing her a mouthful of fangs, and followed Helena like a loyal dog. They sat two rows ahead. The bald man took a chair behind them.
    Audrey took a deep breath, forced a smile, and tried to pretend she was safe and carefree.
     
    “IS there a particular item your mistress is interested in?” Morell asked.
    Kaldar smiled. “The painting, Nature’s Cathedral .” He’d taken a good look at it in the vault while Audrey had tinkered with the box. He saw her now, sitting next to Cerise. William and Cerise would look after her. He had to look after the boys. As long as all of them minded their p’s and q’s, they would get out of here alive.
    “Ah! One of Francis’s pieces. I believe I could make your life significantly easier—”
    A commotion broke out at the door. A moment later, the veekings parted, and a man in a complicated pleated tunic and a pleated kilt that marked him as West Egyptian marched into the room. Muscular, he moved like a panther, stalking and graceful. A gold band sat on his short black hair, encircling his forehead, bright against skin the color of hazelnut. His face, all sharp angles and hard lines, radiated arrogance, and his eyes, completely black, promised no quarter. His tunic and his kilt were of deep emerald green.
    Behind him five men moved into the room. Dressed in black, of identical height, all dark, all athletic, all with an obvious military bearing. The man in green clapped, and the five warriors snapped into a half-moon formation behind him.
    Green, gold, and black. Bast colors.
    The butler banged a staff at the door. “Prince Abubakar of West Egypt.”
    The Claws of Bast. Fucking shit.
    How did they even find them?
    A servant ran up to Morell’s side and handed him an invitation. Morell glanced at it. “I see Jennifer Lowe won’t be attending, either. Apparently, she surrendered her invitation to the prince. His lips curved in a smile. “I seem to be in the company of all sorts of new friends. How interesting. I do hope we will all get along.”
     
    AUDREY fanned herself with the booklet listing the items for auction. They had been in the Blue Hall for over an hour. Francis’s painting came and went. Kaldar and Cerise had gotten into a serious bidding war over it for appearance’s sake. Kaldar won, and now Cerise pretended to pout. Morell gazed on all of it from his throne, enjoying every second.
    “Lot twenty-seven,” the thin woman who served as the auctioneer announced. “The Bracelets of Kul.”
    A guard brought out the familiar wooden box.
    “Bidding will start at . . .”
    “Ten thousand Gaulish crowns,” Helena d’Amry announced.
    “Fifteen thousand,” Prince Abubakar called out.
    Audrey clutched her booklet. She’d pegged him for a Claw as soon as he walked through the door. The Egyptians had made the damn things. If he won the auction, he would know immediately that the bracelets were counterfeit.
    Heads turned.
    “Fifteen thousand once,” the auctioneer began.
    “Twenty,” Helena said.
    “Thirty,” the Egyptian answered.
    “Thirty-five.”
    “Fifty.”
    “Fifty-five.”
    “Sixty.”
    “Sixty-five.”
    “Eighty thousand,” the Egyptian announced.
    Helena paused. “Eighty-five.”
    “A hundred.”
    Helena bowed her head. “We accept defeat.”
    In the row in front, Kaldar leaned toward the boys. Audrey grasped Cerise’s hand tightly.
    “Sold, to Prince Abubakar!”
    Cerise reached into her wide cream skirt. Next to her, William leaned back, half turned in his seat.
    The Egyptian motioned with his hand. The Claw of Bast sitting closest to the aisle rose, held out a leather bag, and emptied its contents on the floor. Slender gold bars scattered onto the blue carpet. Ten ten-thousand bricks of gold.
    Jesus.
    “I will take the item now!” Prince Abubakar declared.
    The auctioneer glanced at Morell.
    Say no, Audrey willed silently. Say no.
    Morell nodded.
    “As Your Highness wishes.”
    The guard carried the box down the aisle.
    The Claw of Bast picked up the box, turned, bowing, and delivered it to Abubakar. The prince rose and picked up one of the bracelets. “It’s a forgery!”
    “I assure you the item is genuine,” Morell said. “It’s been tested.”
    The prince hurled the