Page 14 of Bloodgrove

“Strange boy,” Will murmured, setting off toward the sea and leaving the mysterious young man behind.

Bloodgrove drew him greedily onward, across bridges spanning deep canyons of houses and flanked by enormous stone beasts, then over stairways and squares filled with murmuring fountains.

The sun sank lower, kissing Will’s face with warmth as he paused on a landing. Leaning against the railing, he looked between the houses toward the glittering sea, now the color of molten gold. Perhaps the city wasn’t quite as terrible as he had thought.

With his coat unbuttoned and his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, he stepped down the first stair toward a great wrought-iron gate when a hook suddenly caught his shoulder and pulled him back.

“I would not go down there if I were you. Monsters hunt in those streets.”

He would have recognized that voice anywhere. Eric Arcos, the Red Ambassador, stood behind him with the wolf-headed walking stick resting on his shoulder. Will might have laughed at the coincidence had the man’s hard expression not unsettled him.

With two delicate fingers, he took the wolf’s head and lifted it from his shoulder.

“Thank you for the advice.” Undeterred, he continued.

“Do you see the gate down there?” Arcos asked, now so close that his shoulder nearly brushed Will’s.

Holding his breath, Will followed the line of the walking stick. The stairs ended before a massive open wrought-iron gate, set into a tall fence that stretched beyond the buildings on both sides.

Then the tip of the cane rose toward the sun. “When the sun sinks beyond the horizon, that gate will close, and you will be trapped in the Harbor District for the night. No one will come to rescue you.”

“Isn’t that a little dramatic? The sun will not set for another hour—I only want to see the sea.” It seemed so close, only a few blocks, a few stairways, a few streets away. Perhaps it was farther than he had imagined.

“Did no one warn you about this city?” Arcos asked, amused, as he wandered back up the stairs and stepped out of the shadow into which they had descended. As on the train two weeks earlier, the light painted his face, though today it was warm and almost kind. Only then did Will notice the two large dogs waiting patiently at the top, their coats gleaming black and their muzzles long and narrow.

“Yes, Elodie⁠—”

“Elodie? Elodie Ormonde? She is your patron?” Mr. Arcos’s perfect, courteous expression slipped, revealing a flash of genuine surprise—something, Will was certain, that was rarely seen. At the same time, he knew he had made a mistake.

“You know her?” he asked.

Mr. Arcos smiled slowly, and Will shivered. “Of course. We were childhood friends.”

The drawing of a family with four children, though there had only been three daughters, flashed through his mind. “Would you walk back with me? I fear I have wandered too far and would not find my way before sunset.”

The ambassador considered him briefly, then nodded and set off at a brisk pace, his long legs taking wide strides. The dogs fell into place on either side of him and kept up without effort.

Will watched him from the corner of his eye and could not help feeling pleased to have encountered him again. Not only because Arcos was the perfect connection if Will wished to prove himself as an interior designer and eventually extend his influence back into the Capitol, but because he simply could not take his eyes off him.

Back home, Will had usually chosen a different sort of man: either large, powerful bears who prized him for his long hair and slender build, or young men like Saint who looked at him as though he were a god.

Love between men was frowned upon in the Capitol because it was not considered “fruitful,” something one was expected to leave behind with youth. Will, however, had never grown out of it. As they strolled through Bloodgrove together, he feared society was no different here.

“People are staring at you,” Will observed.

“Among other things. But they are looking at you as well, Mr. Frank. They are wondering what powerful mage is walking beside the ambassador.”

Will nearly stumbled. “I am not a mage!”

His companion laughed without humor. “Magic is not forbidden here in Bloodgrove. Those who drink too much blood and surrender to the frenzy are banished to the southern districts, where they rob, pillage, and kill. I would advise you not to enter those areas unarmed, even in daylight.”

“I have never practiced blood magic,” Will protested, lowering his voice so none of the staring passersby could hear.

“Then where did that white hair you wear so proudly come from? It is hardly subtle.” Once again came the smile that never reached his eyes.

“I have had it since I was a child…”

The ambassador ran a gloved hand through his hair, revealing scattered silver strands among the raven black. “My first grey appeared when I was fourteen.” His hair was cut in a way to conceal it at first glance, and the silver showed only when he swept it to the other side.