Alora nearly began her counting again when she felt him inhale.
“Could you manage to forget everything you’ve seen? Everything you’ve heard?”
“Are you asking me to pretend? To go on as I’ve always done?”
“Yes.”
Alora thought about it. Of the lost man, and the injured woman. Of Mr. Whitters and his resigned worry. William and his terrible choices, and the impossible darkness she now walked inside.Pretend? How could I?
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I assumed as much.”
“Are you going to bludgeon me now?”
A resigned sigh. “No. I don’t think so.”
They walked in silence for some time, Alora’s footsteps the only sound. She opened her mouth and closed it again; once, then twice.
“I can feel you practically vibrating beside me. What is it?”
Alora scrunched her nose. “Is it true you deal in dark artifacts? That you channel wicked enchantments in and out of Enver?”
“Wickedis a subjective term. What makes an enchantment wicked, do you think?”
Alora rolled her eyes.
“I can see you, you’ll remember.”
Her expression quickly hardened into a scowl, and she felt the Urchin’s humor more than heard him. But she needed to know. And she couldn’t tell him why. “There’s a shop that deals in questionable objects. Creatures too. I’m curious if you supply it.”
“And I would tell you something like this, why?”
She didn’t have an answer for that. By all rights, heshouldn’ttell her. The hand beneath hers tugged, and she followed.
“Uneven stone,” he said. Then, “Which shop?”
“Potions and Peculiarities.”
The Urchin scoffed. “That place is a pitiful mess. And its owner? An idiot.”
Chapter Nineteen
The Urchin took her straight to her front door, confirming he knew precisely where she lived. Light returned as he released it, and Alora blinked up at the moon trending lower in the sky. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle the yawn.
“About the healing…”
Alora’s brow raised when he paused. “Yes?”
“I didn’t recognize your reaction for what it was. I’m sorry.”
“I feel foolish over it now.”
“Don’t. And don’t think to go to the constable about me, Miss Pennigrim. They’re all in Merridon’s pocket. Good night.”
“Wait.” The word was out of her mouth before she thought why she wished it. Before she’d processed even a sliver of what he meant by the constable and Master Merridon’s seemingly endless pockets. She imagined his eyebrow arched as he turned back toward her, tried to picture what color it would be.Dark, I suppose.
“What would happen if I didn’t complete the contract?”
