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“You come empty-handed. Does that mean I left my perfectly good meal inside that hole for nothing?” Devon asked in a flat tone, mist billowing from his lips.
Orion opened his mouth to tell him everything and promptly shut it again. The weird vibrations continued, coming at him in waves, rising from the ground.
“I take it you found nothing strange either?” Orion clicked his tongue and walked to the end of the alley, all the way up to the tavern’s back door, where old produce crates were stacked against the wall.
“Of course I didn’t. Have I mentioned that I hate walking in this muggy place when I can barely breathe?” A cough rattled past Devon’s lips, as if to drive his point home.
His hair was sticking to the sides of his sharp cheekbones. He’d lost considerable weight ever since they’d escaped the safe house. Perhaps Arkimedes shouldn’t have stopped him mid-dinner.
“It’s probably a pirate who followed me when I returned from the piers. I haven’t done this for so long now. I’m rusty.”
It might be—or maybe not. “My father’s guards have been trailing us ever since we left the safe house.”
“What?” Devon looked up to the sky and the empty balconies that jutted from the surrounding buildings. “How do you know?”
“I just finished talking to Cyrus, a sentinel.” Was Eris still with Nava?
“Well, that was it, no? You were right to feel watched. What are we supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know if it was my father’s guards triggering this feeling or someone else,” he whispered. “Nava is in the tavern. We should head back in.”
“So we continue with our existing plan?” Devon pushed off the wall, his brows dipping over his black eyes as he crept toward the back door.
They were soaked from the gentle but steady drizzle of rain by now, and the cold had snaked its way through all the layers of Orion’s clothing. “I don’t trust my father, even if for some strange reason he has known where we were and has done nothing about it,” he admitted. He ran a hand over his hair.
“Do you think he commanded Leela to house us all this time?”
“It stands to reason he would,” Orion said.
Devon cursed. “If I were the king, I wouldn’t want either you or your soulmate harmed. Especially if it’s true that the health of the kingdom depends on your bloodline.” Devon’s lips pressed into a fine line. “But I wouldn’t trust him any further than that.”
Exactly. Orion sighed. The air was thick with the rich scent of coal smoke and dampness. The distant rumble of a carriage in the distance drowned out the obnoxious laughter from the hansom cab drivers who were loitering outside the tavern, waiting for customers to drive home.
Orion opened the door that would lead them back into the warm hell-house they’d just left, but he paused and studied his brother for a moment. “How are you truly holding up?”
“Still dying,” Devon said. “And fine to do whatever needs doing today.”
27
NAVA
Nava dragged her sweaty hands over the bodice of her dress for the tenth time in a row. By this point, if any crease remained, it was meant to stay. It was a full moon tonight, not that anyone could tell with the stormy weather.
The ocean waves crashed against the barrier of stone beside her, sending droplets of salty water into the air.
It had been drizzling ever since she’d left the inn, and it was far too cold to get wet. Would her dress allow her to blend in with the other patrons at the tavern, even if she turned up looking like a drenched animal? She’d hoped at the very least she wouldn’t stand out as the only human in a crowd of fae. All she had to do was play a role and gather information that might save the kingdom. No pressure.
Rolling an errant curl of hair around a finger, Nava prayed that, for one night, she’d manage to put on the best act of her life instead of ruining it all with awkward comments. She was a deserter on the run, and she needed to act like it. She’d fought far worse battles than this.
“My lady.” A tall man shifted under a streetlamp, tipping his head in her direction with a feline smile. His hair was thick and plastered to his skull with grease. Light golden flecks lit his eyes, brought out by the warm tones of the lamp. “Do you need a ride tonight?” His tone alone raised gooseflesh across her body, an excellent incentive to quicken her steps.
Was he offering her a ride home—in a carriage or on a beast—or was this an offer of another type of ride?
“No, thank you,” Nava said, while her stomach revolted at the stench that emanated from him. Alcohol and a general lack of hygiene.
The faster she was out of his sight, the safer she would feel.
His eyes brightened in that unnatural way that was neither human nor fae. A shifter. “Are you sure? I could keep you warm.”
