Page 28 of Wicked Endeavors

“You’re bleeding.”

His voice was rough with concern, and she was too tired to figure out what game he was playing now. She was more useful to him alive, so she could at least trust that he cared about her well-being, but he was laying it on a little thick. Noelia had already seen them together. Bas knew the truth. Was Teo afraid the footman would gossip if he didn’t seem wildly in love?

Marisol placed her hand over his. “We were robbed by rebels. We fought back.”

“I can see your chemise.”

“You’ll see much more than that once we’re married.”

Teo’s cheeks reddened. He peered up at the sky. “We should get you back to Wildridge. Can you walk?”

Marisol opened her mouth to point out to the panicked prince that she had been standing without his support, but the words balled in her throat when a blanket of warm fabric fell over her shoulders and against her back. The scent of citrus and familiar musk enveloped her, terrifyingly comforting. Bas had approached without her noticing, and now he stood in nothing but his olive doublet and beige shirt while his forest-green jerkin covered her.

Though jerkins were meant to be close-fitting jackets, he was taller and wider than her. She swam in it, her chemise covered and her heart pounding. “What are you doing?”

“We should take a look at your wounds as soon as possible,” was all he said to her. “Lady Galvan, will you be all right getting back to House Muerte by yourself?”

If he could feel Marisol’s eyes burning into his back, he didn’t bother to turn around. Every inhale made her agitated. It felt as if he were on top of her, surrounding her, and she hated how good that felt. Her hands came up to fasten the jerkin buckle by buckle while she played at indifference, but she was awash with restless energy. Memories of when Bas had been her safe place threatened to choke her. They took it, she wanted to tell him, because he was the only one who would understand. My last dolphin pendant is gone, and it feels like they took a piece of me, too.

Careful.

She couldn’t trust him, and she wouldn’t let him get to her. Not again.

Never again.

“Well.” Teo touched her cheek, and that was part of the act, of course. He kept watching her as if he expected her to collapse at any moment and he wanted to be there to support her if she did. “Are you ready to go?”

Marisol nodded, leaning against him when he wrapped an arm around her to lead her to the carriage. Her voice was soft enough for only him to hear. “I found the courtyard garden in House Muerte, but there were too many witches in there to get the plant.”

“House Vida is hosting the first event,” Teo murmured against her temple. “It will be a while before we can get into House Muerte. Should I ask for a tour?”

“They won’t need the orange blossoms until the closing ceremony, but if they notice one is gone, then the other Houses might increase their security. Let’s gather information about House Vida. The closer the two thefts can happen, the better.”

Teo nodded just in time for them to reach the carriage. Marisol put a small distance between them, raising her voice to continue the show. “Thank you for coming.”

“You had the situation well in hand.”

“It doesn’t matter that I didn’t need you here,” said Marisol. “It matters that you wanted to be.”

Teo’s smile was brighter than the sun beating down on him, a perfect complement to her fond words and soft looks. It was almost enough to make her forget the shadow of a boy lurking behind them, whose jacket was her only armor against the blow her torn dress would be to her reputation.

Almost, but not quite.

As soon as they were all safely in the carriage, Marisol burrowed deeper into the jerkin to avoid further conversation. It had been such a long day.

MARISOL SPENT THE WEEK LEADING UP TO THE HOUSE Vida hunt pretending that she was looking for Rodrigo for purely altruistic reasons. She had confessed to Teo that the Criterion had stolen a family heirloom, but she hadn’t told him exactly what. That had been enough for him to happily escort her around the city center, searching the ground for discarded flyers and asking vague but pointed questions that got them waved away by annoyed vendors who realized they hadn’t come to buy anything. She was no closer to finding the Criterion than when she’d started, so her plan to throttle Rodrigo until he got her pendant back for her had to wait.

The Criterion, however, waited for no one.

The morning of the hunt dawned with a newspaper article that had everyone talking by the time she arrived. Marisol had read it in the carriage, sitting across from a dozing Teo and brooding Bas. Its front page was emblazoned with the words CRITERION ATTACK SINKS SHIPPING VESSEL. Beneath the headline had been a sketch of a boat sinking into Soltura Harbor, while four masked people sprinted down the road with crates in their arms. One of the figures was smaller than the rest. She wondered if that had been Rodrigo.

Of course he would be at the harbor while she had been searching the city center. He’d always been contrary.

“They’re getting bolder,” said a black-haired witch dressed in pale pink, walking arm in arm with another witch in deep bronze. The path they were on cut through the thick forest that had surrounded House Vida in Gaspar’s pictures of the building. Above, the interwoven tree crowns formed a canopy that let the sun pierce through in intermittent shafts of light. “The Trident needs to deal with them once and for all.”

“If we start attacking the welks, we’ll only feed the Criterion more members,” her companion tittered. “Ignoring them is the smart move. They’re no threat.”

Marisol’s fingers twitched where they rested on Teo’s arm. These witches didn’t see any welks as a threat, even when three walked among them. Gaspar’s potion still threaded magic through her veins, but Marisol was a welk through and through. When the Coronet ended, and the tourists returned to their country, these witches would treat her as if she were invisible.