Page 9 of Fate of the Sun King

“Did you see what happened in the plaza?” I ask Nadir’s back. The path narrows, forcing us to walk in single file.

“They arrested some of the low fae, but most simply scattered.”

“Did they kill any?”

He peers over his shoulder at me. “Some. Yes.”

I don’t like that answer. “What was the point of that?” I look back at Gabriel now, continuing my line of questions.

“A message,” Gabriel says. “Atlas can’t take down Erevan yet and risk a full-out riot, but it’s a reminder that he won’t tolerate these acts of aggression.”

“Acts of aggression,” I scoff. “As if their demands aren’t perfectly legitimate.”

Gabriel says nothing as I cast another look over my shoulder, but I catch a falter in his eyes, there for a moment and then gone.

We continue in silence as we wind our way through the alleys until we emerge on the far side of The Umbra. It’s quieter here, where a small market sells fruit, fish, and other perishable goods. Food and other consumables are the only items low fae are permitted to trade and bargain for in the upper districts. So at least Atlas isn’t technically forcing them to starve. He probably looks in the mirror and pats himself on the back for his generosity.

We cross the northwest boundary of The Umbra and turn down a wider boulevard. Our Aphelion hideout is carefully situated in the Eighth District, which just happens to maintain the furthest physical distance from the palace. The nondescript house is of middling variety, owned by a High Fae of the working class named Nerissa. Apparently, she’s an old acquaintance of Nadir’s, and I haven’t entirely worked out their relationship.

Not that I care. It’s definitely none of my business.

I sigh, knowing how ridiculous I sound, even in my own head.

We always enter the house from the back—Nadir’s orders—so we make our way down another alley before we reach the gate that cordons off the rear of the property. I’m not sure if it’s safe to be showing Gabriel where we’re staying, but I’m trusting Nadir to know what he’s doing. If he’s known Gabriel for a while, maybe he understands his intentions better than I do.

We shove open the gate, ensuring the alley is clear before we file into the small backyard. The stone courtyard is surrounded by patches of green grass and flowerbeds stuffed with roses carefully tended daily and constantly by Nerissa, like they’re her children. In fact, she’s here right now, wearing her gardening apron, her chestnut hair piled in a messy knot on top of her head.

At our entrance, she looks over, a pair of clippers poised in midair. Her gaze skirts over me and Nadir and then lands on Gabriel.

“What happened?” she asks, dropping her tools into her basket and dusting off her apron. “Where’s Tristan?”

She peers past us, looking for my brother, as my throat tightens with fear.

“You mean he’s not back yet?”

Nerissa shakes her head, and I’m about to spin on my heel and head back towards the square when Nadir seizes my wrist.

“He’ll be fine,” Nadir says. “There’s nothing you can do.”

I grit my teeth, and my nostrils flare as I prepare to tell him I have no intention of abandoning my brother. But the gate creaks and a familiar head of black hair emerges through it. My chest expands in relief.

“Tris,” I say as he pauses at the sight of Gabriel. He’s definitely hard to mistake for a casual visitor, what with the wings, sun tattoo on his neck, and gleaming golden armor.

“Who’s this?” Tristan asks, his gaze sweeping over him with mistrust.

“This is Gabriel,” I say, and Tristan’s eyes narrow. He remembers everything I shared about my warder during the Trials.

“Why is he here? And why did you leave the bar so abruptly?”

“Come on,” I reply. “We’ll explain everything.”

Finally, we all filter into the house. I remove my hat and jacket and hang them on a hook against the wall. Gabriel follows me to the front sitting area, where we find Willow, along with Amya, Mael, and Hylene.

“I ran into someone who recognized me,” I say to Tristan to explain my abrupt departure from the tavern. “That’s why I left.” Then I look at Gabriel. “It was Callias.”

There’s a collective exchange of wary looks around the room.

“I don’t think he’ll say anything,” I say. “But I should probably try to find him.”