by S. D. Grimm
Forgive me.
Thea straightened. “I smell a wolf,” she said without turning.
Connor was more dangerous than he let on. He carried one of the secret seeing stones. He knew who she worked for. But it was also true that his path and hers were the same, to a point. That fork might be soon, but Connor was smart. He knew how to get what he wanted. It was safer to have him as an ally than an enemy.
He moved closer and leaned his shoulder against the wardrobe so she could see him. “You’re helping my mother, so I’m going to return the favor.”
“Oh?”
“Belladonna thinks you helped free Logan. She’s told Franco. Franco isn’t really the forgiving type. I think he means to kill you.”
Thea looked back into Connor’s strange eyes. He wasn’t smiling. He looked sad actually.
He shrugged. “Maybe you don’t believe me, but I’m telling you—”
“I believe you.” Thea let her satisfied smile fade in front of someone other than Kara. “If you want to return the favor, then watch Kara’s back for me.”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s more reckless than I am.”
“I think you mistake who I am. Why I’m here.”
Thea stepped toward him and met his eyes. He straightened his back and looked down at her. She could almost sense his hackles rising.
“I’m one of the few who does not mistake your identity, wolf.” She watched his eyes widen. “You may think you know things, but I can actually see the future. Our work is more the same than you might understand.”
Connor eased back against the wardrobe, but his gaze remained hard. “Kara isn’t exactly fond of me.”
“She talks to you. That’s about as fond of people as she gets.” Thea smiled.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to get from me.”
“You will when the time comes.”
He narrowed his eyes.
She sighed. “I left you a note. You’re not going to like some of the things I have to say.”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. “Suggestions about waiting before you try to escape.”
He crossed his arms. “You’re the one who gave us—”
“I know, and I hope you will trust me when I say that you should really heed my suggestions. Pushing your mother out a window may seem strange to you now, but it won’t. You will come to understand.”
He backed up a step from her. “You’re insane.”
“Sometimes I wish it were that easy. Goodbye, Connor. Good luck.” She turned to leave, then stopped and looked back where he still stood near the wardrobe, watching her with furrowed brows. She pressed her fingertip to the corner of her left eye, then her right, an assassin’s silent greeting to a friend. “And thank you. For the warning.”
“Why would Franco send you to Meese without me?” Kara crossed her arms.
Thea shrugged and placed a wrapped stone into the secret pocket at the small of her back. “Something about a Feravolk camp down there. He wants me to bring one of them back alive.”
“Alive? Does he know what ‘assassin’ means?” Kara smirked.
Thea shared the smirk. “Fitting, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“That I go to Meese without you. Again.”
Kara cocked her head, no doubt trying to read Thea’s expression. “May we never be separated like that again.” She gripped Thea’s arm.
Thea gripped back. “Don’t worry. This will be a short trip, and this time I’m going in as a trained assassin, not a frightened child.” But she was frightened. And she felt like a child.
“Still, I won’t like being away from you for so long.”
“I know. But rest assured, little sister, you will be fine on your own.”
Chapter 26
An Interesting Development
Connor’s soft boots padded down the marble floors in the hallway. Torches lit his way—not that he needed them. And since he didn’t look like himself, he didn’t expect to be stopped. Impersonating palace guards was a good way to get out the front gate unnoticed. Not that he could go far before the trace spell would alert Franco. He headed toward the front gate.
“Maynard.” A guard turned to him. “I say, Maynard.”
Connor stopped. Though he resembled—what was his name? Maynard?—down to this morning’s shaving cut on his chin, Connor knew nothing of the portly guard. “Yes?”
“I thought you’d gone home.”
“Yet here I am.”
“Well, you best be off so the king doesn’t suspect a thing.”
Now that was an interesting turn of events. “Right. I’ll be just off then.” Connor bowed his head and headed right for the door. His sleeve pulled tight around his arm. He stopped. “If you’d kindly release me.”
“Kindl—Maynard, stop fooling around. Do you have it?”
Snare me. “Yes. Of course.”
“I thought I was supposed to leave right after my shift and meet you.”
“I haven’t changed the plan. Just gotten myself detained is all.” Connor looked at the guard’s hand still gripped around his sleeve. He shook himself free. “Twice now.”
“Right. I’m just nervous. If anyone notices it’s missing before you leave—”
“Then you best let me go.”
The guard dropped Connor’s sleeve. Connor nodded tightly before he spun around and headed for the palace gates. Once free of them, he raced into the woods and morphed into his true form. He sighed. Holding the illusion exhausted him, but he wouldn’t be walking around as Maynard again. Not unless he found out more about this mysterious trinket and to whom it belonged, which meant he’d have to find another guard to impersonate. That always proved worrisome. He stopped. That guard should be off shift soon. Maybe Connor would have to tail him and find out more about it.
Connor scaled the palace wall and dropped to the other side with a thud. He leaned against a young tree and pulled out the small, smooth obsidian stone. Resting it in his palm, he looked into it. The ice-blue eyes of the Mistress of Shadows appeared. Connor covered the stone before she could see him.
He waited, his head repeatedly tapping against the tree bark as he willed himself patience. When he deemed it safe again, he uncovered the stone and peered past the black surface into the core. The picture he was looking to see presented itself.
Quinn.
She lay curled in a tiny ball against a rocky surface. It was time to find out who she was. And why she’d called out to him in the first place. “Cliffdiver?”
“Yes, master.” A creature with the head and chest of a bald eagle and body of a lion flew into view in the stone and folded his brown wings against his tawny back. Cliffdiver’s head was covered in white feathers, but the other gryphon accompanying him had golden-brown feathers, like a golden eagle.
“How is she?”
Cliffdiver swished his tufted tail. “In need of rescue. The beast doesn’t seem very interested in her, and you were right. The birds have been feeding her. Bringing her water. But she isn’t well. And the chains holding her are spelled with some sort of magic. I cannot break them. We’ve been keeping her safe from other predators.”
“Thank you for protecting her. Have you found out why the Mistress wants this poor girl?”
The gryphon shook his feathered head.
“All right. I may need you here, though. Will the other gryphon stay with her?”
“Yes, master.”
“Please, don’t call me master. I’m your friend. We’re bonded.”
He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the gryphon may have smiled.
Connor peered past Cliffdiver to see Quinn’s curled up form. Burn marks covered her arm. He ground his teeth together, unable to stifle the growl that rose from his throat. A slight hitch in the picture alerted Connor to another presence looking into the stone. He pocketed it so no one would see him.
Why did the Mistress want her? He stood. The night-watch shift was nea
rly over. Maybe he’d head back to the palace and tail a certain soldier. Maynard’s secret could turn out to be useful.
He undressed, folded his clothes, and placed them in the cache at the base of his tree. Then he morphed into his wolf form. Nose to the wind, he found the scent of Maynard’s worried friend and headed toward him.
The man paced from one tree to another, worrying his sword hilt. Harsh steps scuttled against the ground. Connor crept closer. The soldier stopped and looked up. “Finally, Maynard.” His whisper was harsh. “Did you bring it?”
“Of course, I brought it. But you will tell Balton I was the one who secured it?”
Balton? What was that snared man up to?
“Of course, Trevor. Don’t worry so much.” Maynard thrust a meaty hand into his bag and fumbled around. When he lifted it, Trevor leaned closer, cutting out Connor’s line of sight. He got up, careful to stay out of the torchlight, and moved deeper into the tree line, circling the unsuspecting men. Connor nosed the air as he moved closer. A glimmer caught his eye. It looked like one of the bracers archers and swordsmen used to protect their wrists, but made entirely of metal.
“It’s not exactly pretty, is it?”
“It’ll do.”
Connor crept closer. A twig snapped under his paw. Clumsy. Trevor thrust the bracer back in his bag and grasped his sword. Connor crouched behind a tree.
“You are jumpy.” Maynard chuckled.
“I heard something.”
The men stood in silence, unmoving. Trevor replaced his sword. “Tell me how it works.”
“When Balton puts this on, he will be able to use compulsion to control anyone not protected by the Blood Moon birthmark, and he’ll be able to control those Children whom he’s poisoned with the black blood. Franco doesn’t know about his mother’s ring. He will be Balton’s servant.”
“So will the whole army.”
Connor breathed in. Compulsion? His breathing quickened. He had to think. Where had he read about compulsion? It was a power the Mistress had tried to create for herself.
And could he get his paws on that bracer? Franco was bad, but Balton could quite possibly be worse, especially if he was given unbridled access to Franco’s spells. He had to get a look at that bracer. He crept closer.
Trevor clasped Maynard’s shoulder. “Balton has just secured his place as the new king, and we are now his personal guards.”
“Yes.” The gleam in Maynard’s eye told Connor there was possibly more to wielding that bracer than the chubby man had offered. He had to find out what, and steal it. And keep his eye on Maynard, who was quite possibly not Balton’s real friend.
Chapter 27
The Prized Bull
Rain fell steadily from the gray sky. Only five days had passed since
Kinsey’s funeral, and the blanket of sadness that covered everyone had not dissipated. Jayden touched her dagger’s hilt again. Habit now. She couldn’t stop sorrow from choking her when it came from all sides.
And no one would talk. Ryan had tried joking around a few times, but only got cold glares from Ethan, and Chloe had yelled at him to shut up. But Chloe wouldn’t speak to Ethan either. The last thing she’d said to him was an accusation about how he should’ve shot the scarred man first. Thankfully, Logan had quieted her with harsh eye contact.
Scout had actually growled at her until Ethan looked at the dog and shook his head. Then he’d whimpered and nudged Ethan’s hand with his nose.
Now they just walked in silence.
A chill skittered over Jayden’s skin from the incoming weather. The drenching storm would last through the night and gain momentum. If they could stay in a tavern tonight, it would be best.
“Are you heading to Oaken?” Ethan said.
Logan nodded. “We’ll never dry out otherwise. Besides, you kids need a warm bed.”
Ethan’s eyebrows popped up. “Have you been there recently?”
“That rough?”
“Pretty rough.”
Logan patted the hilt of his sword. “We’ll probably be left alone. Least we can do is try.”
Oaken was pretty rough. No guards at the city gate, which was torn from its hinges. The scent of alcohol permeated the streets. Rats skittered between buildings. Men with scarred arms leered from the shadows. Knife blades glinted in their hands. Hoods shielded their features. Ethan kept everyone clustered close to Logan. Not that Jayden would have lagged back in this town.
All three of the men scanned their surroundings constantly, and all three kept their hands on their sword hilts.
Jayden made sure her daggers were visible on her belt and not hiding in the folds of her cloak. It deterred a few looks, but attracted others. Too bad the canines hadn’t followed them into town. It might have felt safer.
Logan led them to a tavern with no sign, although the picture of a bull had been crudely scratched into the door. With missing shutters and splintering wood, the place didn’t look like anyone prized it. Except maybe the local alcoholic.
The wind blasted into them, and Logan looked at Ethan. “You’ll let me know if you feel anything.”
Ethan clenched his jaw and nodded. As he did, Jayden realized the unease she’d been feeling wasn’t just hers, but Ethan’s, too.
They entered, and Logan approached a young girl who was wiping a cloth over a dented and worn table. “Excuse me, miss. We’d like a room.”
She slapped the cloth over her shoulder and placed her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed in a way that made Jayden turn on her talent. “You’re not from around here.”
Logan chuckled. “That’s why I need a room.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? A clever one, are you?”
“Can you handle the request or not?” Logan’s voice was a growl.
Tension, thick and bristling, filled the space between them, and Jayden didn’t need her talent to read how boiled this woman’s blood was. Logan must have been the final stick that burst this woman’s satchel.
Ryan stepped around Jayden and faced the young barmaid. He chuckled. “Listen, my friend is a little . . . shall we say, he’s not used to talking to a pretty lady. He doesn’t mean to be gruff and condescending. It’s just that he is gruff and condescending.”
The barmaid tilted her head toward Ryan, but her eyes remained slits. “He certainly is.”
“My name is Ryan, and I must know yours.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Cora.” Her previously harsh voice had turned soft.
“Pleased to meet you, Cora.” Ryan held out his hand. She placed hers in his palm, and her lips parted when he kissed the back of her hand. “What is it?” he asked.
“It’s just, I can’t remember the last time someone did that.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “No one gives you a proper greeting anymore?”
She just shook her head, totally transfixed on him. A small smile touched her lips.
“I’ve heard it said that when a woman smiles, it doubles her beauty. I didn’t think it possible for you to be more enchanting.”
Red flushed her cheeks. She glanced over her shoulder again. “Follow me.”
Before she could move, a young man—whose shoulders were significantly wider than his hips—grabbed her arm and laughed. “Enchanting? That’s the biggest vat of hogwaller I’ve ever heard.”
Cora’s face turned downcast, and she hid behind her hair as she turned her gaze to the floor.
Jayden gasped. How could he treat her like that?
“Let her go.” Ethan’s voice was hard but quiet.
The man puffed out his chest and dropped her arm. She scurried back to table-washing while the man squared his shoulders. “Or what? She’s my wife. I can do whatever I want with her.”
“Excuse me?” Ethan approached the man.
“Ethan.” Jayden placed her hand on his arm. Normally, letting him do this might be beneficial, but right now the hatred that pulsed through him made her want to grab her weapons. “Let Logan take care of
this,” she whispered.
“This is my inn.” The man placed his hands on his hips. His arms were as big around as a bull’s middle.
Ethan didn’t even move, just stared at the innkeeper as if he wanted to start a fight. “This piece of filth? That explains a lot.”
What was he doing?
“Are you insulting me?”
Ethan glared. His hatred boiled. Jayden nearly wanted to rip the man’s head off. She touched her dagger and quelled the rising emotions.
The innkeeper made a fist and waved it at Ethan. “You little—”
Before he could finish, the flat edge of Ethan’s sword pressed against the man’s stomach.
“Ethan.” Logan raised his voice.
Ethan just pushed the man back into the bar.
The room quieted.
Jayden approached him and put her hand on his back. If Kinsey had been right, this would work. She tried to channel her calm into him. “He’s not worth it, Ethan.”
“She is.” He motioned toward the woman, who now held a hand over her rapidly heaving chest.
“Yes. But he isn’t. Just walk away.”
Ethan’s shoulder’s relaxed. The hate in him seemed to crawl back into his heart and nestle there like a flame bound to a candlewick. It didn’t snuff out.
The innkeeper pointed to the exit. “You’ve earned yourself a stay on the other side of my door. I don’t take kindly to men who would rough up my establishment.”
Ethan sheathed his sword. “Think twice before you hurt her again.”
Jayden pulled Ethan’s shoulder gently, still trying to calm him. He turned around and stalked out.
Once outside, Ryan rounded on him. “What was that?”
Ethan glared at his brother. “You could have gotten her in trouble with all that flirting.”
“It was innocent flirting. Any woman—”
“Not her, Ryan. When you see a woman with bruises on her arms and a scar around her neck, you don’t—” he shook his head. “You played with fire.”
Ryan stood there with his mouth open. “I—I didn’t notice.”
Logan walked past them. “Word about us will spread in this small town. We’d best find shelter before the storm really hits.”