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“What are you doing here?” Killian growled, his voice low. He stepped in front of his mother, but she pushed him aside.
“Killian, is that any way to treat a guest?” she demanded, hands on her hips. “He came by to ask you why you weren’t interested in the job anymore, and to see if he could make you a better offer.” She shot him a look that said, “Be on your best behavior.”
Darkness seemed to slither around Siamus, or maybe it was Killian’s lack of sleep. “Yes,” the mercenary affirmed. “I came to see you, but your lovely mother said you weren’t home. She offered me a cup of tea and we have been chatting ever since.” He lifted his porcelain mug and beamed at Mrs. Southwick. “I couldn’t refuse such a kind woman.” His voice was polite, disgustingly so—not gruff like the last time they’d met.
A protectiveness rooted itself in Killian’s core, growing like ivy, clawing through his ribs. “Get out of my house,” he snarled.
“Killian!” Mrs. Southwick cried.
But Siamus merely lifted his hands, palms forward, in a display of surrender. “If that is what you wish, I will be on my way.” He sat up a little straighter, then added, “I just want to know why you turned me down.”
“Change of heart,” Killian grumbled, still staring Siamus down.
“That simple?”
“That simple.”
“I see,” Siamus said, standing and twisting the hairs of his beard. “I’ll be holding on to your application in case you change your mind again.”
He stressed the word “application,” and Killian understood what he meant. He’d be keeping the money he already gave him.
“Fine,” Killian groused. He supposed now that he and Elyse were on better terms, he’d have to explain the missing coin to her. That didn’t matter right now, though. All that mattered was getting Siamus away from his mother.
To Killian’s surprise, Siamus took a step toward him and extended his scarred hand. Up close, the bruising around his eyepatch was even more sickly, the skin swollen. Siamus didn’t seem affected by it as he stood with his broad shoulders back, an air of swagger around him. “No hard feelings,” he said.
Killian hesitated, but extended his hand in return. Siamus clasped it, shaking firmly, then pulled Killian in closer.
Killian’s left hand flew to the dagger at his hip, but all Siamus did was clap him on the back of the shoulder before turning and striding toward the door.
“Take care now,” he called, leaving Killian reeling.
Siamus shut the door behind him, and Killian immediately crossed the room to look out the window.
“Killian—what on earth?” Mrs. Southwick began, but he shushed her as he watched Siamus stroll to the end of the street.
Once he was out of sight, Killian whirled to his mother.
“That man is very dangerous,” he explained, his voice firm. He fished in his pocket and dug out a vial of blue liquid. “If you ever see him again, no matter where you are or what you are doing—” He shoved the vial into her hand. “—I want you to throw this vial on the ground and picture yourself outside the palace gates. Demand for Manny—demand for the king if you have to—but do not leave the palace until I come for you.”
Mrs. Southwick glanced between the vial and her son’s face, her eyes wide. There was no fear in her eyes, only stunned confusion. As the wife of a prominent captain of the Royal Guard, she’d faced countless threats. It had been a sort of normalcy throughout Killian’s childhood, knowing that there were criminals who wanted revenge on Captain Southwick.
She didn’t argue with Killian’s assessment of Siamus. Instead, she peered down at the little blue vial. “What? I don’t—”
“It’s a transportation potion, Mum. It’ll get you someplace safe,” he explained, a bit calmer. “Just promise me.”
She looked closer at the vial, her brows furrowed, but she nodded her head. “I promise.”
Killian let out a sigh of relief as those vines seemed to slacken their hold on his chest.
“What is all this about?” she asked, one hand on her hip. “Is this why you’ve been gone so much?”
Killian sighed again and moved to sit at the kitchen table. His mother followed him, bracing her hand on her thigh as she sank into the chair beside him—one of the subtle signs that she was growing older, along with the strands of gray that threaded her black curls.
He fiddled with the tea cup that still lingered on the table before pushing it aside. “I hired that man to help me track down Elyse, but then…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.
His mother’s gaze was full of understanding. “But then you had a change of heart,” she said, far too knowingly.
Killian nodded. He ran a hand through his hair and settled deeper into the chair as an aching exhaustion overtook him.
