The Shadow Reader Read Online Free PDF Page B

compass. I imagine it’s a hell of a lot harder killing someone in cold blood than killing them in the middle of a fight; not to mention it’s wrong. The Court wouldn’t do this.
    Aren doesn’t look like he’s going to accept the dagger. He’s still lounged back on the bench, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes locked on me. I return his stare while I wait with the rest of the fae for his decision.
    He takes his boots off the rail, leans forward. My heart drops when his gaze shifts to the weapon in Lena’s hand.
    No. Surely this is a ploy. He isn’t going to kill me. He needs me. He’s just trying to scare me into cooperating. Right? Right?
    When he takes the dagger, I dig my fingernails into my palms to keep my hands from shaking.
    “Sure you don’t want to read the shadows for us?” Aren asks. None of his usual mirth is in his voice. He’s completely serious. He’s going to kill me if I don’t do what he wants.
    “Trade me,” I blurt out.
    He cocks his head to the side and his eyes leave mine to travel slowly down to my feet and then slowly back up. The tiniest smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
    “How much do you think you’re worth, nalkin-shom ?”
    “She’s stalling,” Lena interjects before I can answer. “We can’t let the Court have her back.”
    Damn right, I’m stalling. She would be, too, if she were surrounded by people who wanted to slit her throat.
    “Maybe we can get Roop and Kexin back,” Trev speaks up to my left.
    “Or maybe Mrinn,” another says. Others chime in with more suggestions. There’s no doubt I’m valuable—few humans have the Sight; fewer still have the ability to read the shadows—so maybe this will work. I let out a pent-up breath and imagine my chance of survival cranking up to 30 . . . 40 . . . hell, maybe even 50 percent.
    Lena looks at the fae gathered on the lawn. “We don’t know if any of them are alive.”
    “The Court doesn’t know she’s alive,” someone says. It’s a good point, and I think about recommending they take a picture of me to send to the king, maybe with me holding the Frankfurter Times or whatever the hell the local paper is called.
    I snort. Like they have a camera here. Even if they did, no one would dare touch it.
    Aren leans forward, rests his forearms on his knees, and clasps the hilt of the dagger between his hands. The world’s waiting on his decision. Again. Must be nice to have that much influence.
    His face is expressionless when he stands. I feel cold and detached, like I’m someone else watching the end of my life play out. I’m half a second away from a desperate, destined-to-fail escape attempt when Aren says, “Care to make a wager?”
    I blink, then frown. “Wager?”
    He hands the dagger back to Lena. “Yes. A wager.”
    Okay. I’ll play this game. For now. “Depends on what you’re bidding.”
    His smile is full of mischief. “There’s only one thing you’re interested in, nalkin-shom . I’m willing to offer it.”
    I pause, consider a snarky response, decide against it. “You’re offering me my freedom?”
    He crosses his arms over his chest and leans a shoulder against the porch column. “If you can map one of my fae to within a hundred feet, yes.”
    A hundred feet. Shit. That’s accurate. I’ve done it before—twice, in fact—but I’m pretty sure luck played a role in both of those readings. My luck has sucked these last twenty-four hours. I doubt I’ve had a sudden change in fortune.
    “What do you want if I can’t do it?” I ask, though I know what his answer will be.
    “You’ll shadow-read for me,” he says. He’s in all-out mirthmode now, and it’s getting under my skin. Even though he knows my reputation, he’s certain I can’t do it. For good reason, too. The best shadow-readers usually map their targets to within three, four hundred feet. I routinely do it in half of that. That’s why I’m an asset to the Court. When a fae fissures to the location I mark,