Page 38 of Fate of the Sun King

“What’s wrong?” Willow asks her.

“Does it matter to you?” Lor asks, and Willow’s expression collapses. Obviously, they haven’t worked through their disagreement yet.

Lor scrubs her hands down her face.

“Nothing is wrong,” she adds, but it’s obvious that’s a lie. “Sorry. I think I’m going to take a walk. I’ll get us some of those meat pies we all like for dinner.”

Then without another word, she grabs the hat and loose jacket she uses to conceal herself, heads out the back door, and leaves the rest of us staring after her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

LOR

Without a backward glance, I storm out of the house, needing air and space to breathe. I shouldn’t have snapped at Willow like that, but our argument weighs on my mind, and I’m not ready to forgive her yet. I’m angry she’s blaming me for her feelings, as though everything I did wasn’t for her. But that isn’t really fair. I know that isn’t what she meant, but I’m struggling to move past it.

We’ve always stuck together. Always been a unit. We never fight and have always supported each other because we were the only lifeline each of us had.

Now we’ve had our freedom for only a few weeks, and are we already drifting apart?

In addition to my drama with Willow, I also can’t stop thinking about my dream from the other night.

The idea that someone is out there sharing my family’s secrets for some nefarious reason sticks to the back of my throat. Who is it, and why do they hate us so much? Do they realize what they did to a group of children? Do they care? Or do they think we deserve everything?

The streets are busy at this time of day, and I pay little attention to the direction I’m walking. While I’d claimed I intended to go to Sonya’s for the pies everyone loves, I first need to work off some of this building energy. I’ll double back and pick some up on my return.

I’ll also go and talk to Willow. She’s been my best friend my entire life, and there’s nothing we can’t work through.

For now, I allow myself to get lost in the bustle and activity of Aphelion at the height of the afternoon. I’ve entered the Sixteenth District, home to entertainments of a carnal nature, evidenced by the dozens of bars, restaurants, and brothels all open for business and enjoying plenty of customers in the middle of the afternoon.

“Hey, gorgeous!” A male voice slices through my preoccupations, bringing me to a stop. He sits with a group of male High Fae, all nursing a round of drinks. The one who just catcalled me taps his thigh and winks. “Want some company?”

His friends start laughing, and I think of the dagger stashed in my boot. I don’t know why I didn’t start carrying one sooner. While Mael explained concealing a weapon without a proper grasp on how to use it is more dangerous than not having one at all, I’m not sure I believe that. I don’t need any skill to stick a man in his gut or, better yet, slice off his dick. I curl my lip, my eyes narrowing as I stare back, unblinking, wondering where this idiot gets off thinking he has any right to speak to me this way.

Why does it always come back to this? Even when I’m dressed this way?

The conversation with Hylene last night loosened something tight living inside my chest. Knowing her past wasn’t all that different from mine made me feel less alone. Though she spoke matter-of-factly about it, I recognized that same haunted look I know so well.

But she’s also forged those experiences into a spine made of steel armor that I admire.

My scars will never be completely erased, but I hope they won’t define the parameters of my present or my relationships forever. Willow claimed she’s the reason I’m always so angry, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The leering man is still laughing, but whatever he sees in my face causes his grin to slip. I don’t move, glaring at him with the white-hot fury of my simmering rage, willing him to feel the shame of his behavior. Do I think he’ll learn a lesson? I’m not holding my breath, but at least for today, maybe it’s one less woman harassed by this prick.

Finally, he drops his gaze, muttering something to himself and then to his friends, who all cast wary, disgruntled glances in my direction, as though I’m the one to blame for ruining their fun. That’s right. Be afraid. Or ashamed. Or something that makes you realize that every woman who passes you doesn’t owe you her time.

When they’ve been sufficiently cowed to my liking, I turn away and scan the plaza. My nerves are still on edge. I wish I could tell what parts of that dream were real and what parts were simply conjured from the muddled haze of my memories. Did my subconscious fill in parts that didn’t happen? Did she really claim to know who and what I was, or is my mind stretching over the blanks, trying to close the gaps?

There’s a nicer-looking restaurant across the way where tables of women enjoy what look like tea cakes, along with sparkling wine. That seems a little more friendly.

As I make my way closer, I catch a snippet of conversation.

“A landslide in Tor,” one female High Fae says. “Crushed half the city at the base of the castle.”

“That’s awful,” says the second. “My Arthur says there are similar happenings in Alluvion. A hurricane wiped out half of the western coastline last week. Dead fish everywhere. Can you imagine?”

They both shake their heads as I frown. A second later, they catch me eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Sorry,” I say, about to retreat in the direction I came, when a woman emerges from the building, and I nearly miss a step.