Bloodtraitor by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

didn’t know any details about Nathaniel’s plan, but the fact that there
was
a plan and one of Jeshickah’s own line was orchestrating it was the kind of information Theron regularly bought and sold. If I were willing to betray Nathaniel—not to mention every shapeshifter ever dominated by Midnight—I could probably turn a few words into a small fortune. With Theron as middleman, I would probably even survive to enjoy my rewards.
    Did he sense that opportunity for profit? If he did, what was he willing to do to get it? Or was I jumping at shadows? I was the brother of the soon-to-be serpiente queen. That could make me a valuable contact, too.
    I tried to wait patiently, telling myself it would be better to let Theron lead the conversation, but anxiety got the best of me. I asked, with only a hint of irritation, “Is there a particular reason you asked me to come in?”
    He handed me one of the two glasses, and I took a cautious sip. The drink tasted vaguely like spicy mulled cider.
    “Should there be?” Theron replied.
    This is why I hate mercenaries,
I thought. Did he know something or not?
    “If you’re hoping I can help you connect with Aaron’s soon-to-be queen,” I said, “I’m afraid I will not be much help. Our relationship is a bit strained at the moment.”
    “I gathered, despite your evasion earlier. What seems to be the problem?”
    This man was too powerful to lie to on a subject that it was very likely he could and would confirm, so I admitted, “Not all of us were behind the plan to send Hara to Midnight.”
    “What brought you around?”
    I doubted the question was even remotely casual, even if he appeared perfectly comfortable as he relaxed in one of the armchairs, leaving me standing awkwardly nearby.
    “What…” I contemplated the question. Again, there was information this man might have, so I was honest
enough.
Jeshickah already knew about the prophecy, though she didn’t believe in it, beyond its ability to manipulate people into doing things in her favor. “I’m familiar with your reputation. I’m sure you know the prophecy that Farrell was following from the day he bought me to the day he died. That prophecy said that Misha must take the throne. Whether or not it’s true, it was Farrell’s living goal and dying wish. The means may or may not have justified the ends, but they were the only means I knew.”
    “You sound like you have your doubts as to whether or not the prophecy will come true.”
    I shrugged. “I’m the one who said it, but I’m fallible, and falcon prophecies only show what
might
be, not what
must
be.”
    “But you still hope it’s true.”
    “Of course I hope it’s true,” I whispered. Part of Jeshickah’s arrogance was that she didn’t care who spoke up against her as long as their actions didn’t interfere with her empire, so I had no reason to lie. I wasn’t telling Theron anything Midnight didn’t already know, but for some reason the words made him smile.
    He said, “And yet you’re here.”
    “And yet I’m here,” I repeated with a frustrated sigh. Theron had been a mercenary for hundreds of years. I wasn’t going to trick him into saying anything he didn’t already plan to tell me, so he might as well get to the point already. “And I don’t know
why,
so if you wouldn’t mind explaining—”
    He cut me off with a raised hand reaching in my direction, and the words, “Come here.”
    Was that the only reason he had asked me in—because I had demonstrated that I was not averse to being a bleeder? Now that he was not obligated to be professional and controlled, now that it was sunrise and time to relax, he was willing to let down his guard.
    No, that was too simple. If there was one thing I knew about Midnight’s mercenaries, it was that they all put business before pleasure. Theron had chatted long enough to determine the extent of my value, information-wise, before he allowed himself to feed.
    I could play that game, too. Maybe