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Nerron pressed his boot into the soil Jacob Reckless had stood on a few days earlier. He smelled salt in the air.
Water.
He shuddered.
Hopefully, they weren’t about to land up to their necks in it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE SECOND TIME
They had the head. Jacob caught himself feeling ridiculously confident as he and Fox checked in to an inn. After all that cold water, they wanted to spend at least one night in a warm bed. They were in Saint-Riquet, a small town with narrow alleys that spoke of a time long forgotten even on this side of the mirror. The market square was lined by timber-framed houses whose roofs were tiled by Giants, and the church bell always chimed right before death claimed one of its people.
That evening Fox set out to find a livery stable and organise some horses for the journey, and Jacob telegraphed Dunbar and Chanute, hopeful they might have leads in the search for the hand and the heart. He wasn’t sure how Dunbar would react to the news that his theory had been right and that they had found the head. Maybe he’d at least be glad they were still alive. Jacob also sent a telegram to Valiant just to keep the Dwarf happy, but he didn’t tell Valiant about the head, nor where they were at the moment. Jacob did not trust Valiant’s discretion, and the Dwarf would find out soon enough that Jacob had no intention of selling the crossbow to the highest bidder.
It was the first warm day of spring, but the barefoot flower girl selling primroses on the corner was probably still freezing. She was redheaded and as scrawny as a young bird. Fox had barely been much older when Jacob had first seen her human form. He bought a posy off the girl because he knew how much Fox loved primroses. He was just taking the flowers from her small hand when the pain shot into his chest again.
It was even worse than the first time. Jacob stumbled against the nearest wall and pressed his forehead against the cold stone, desperately fighting for air. The pain was so horrendous that he nearly dropped to his knees to beg the Fairies for mercy. Nearly.
The child looked frightened. She picked up the flowers he’d dropped and held them out to him. Jacob could barely grip them.
‘Thanks,’ he stammered.
He somehow managed a smile as he put a copper sou into the girl’s hand. The child smiled back with relief.
The inn was only a few alleys away, and yet he could barely manage to get back. The pain lasted until he unlocked the door to his room. He locked it before unbuttoning his shirt. The moth had another spot on its wing, and he could remember only four letters of the Fairy’s name.
TPRINT
Coast . . . his hand . . . almost crushed. The spider danced haltingly, as though she’d swallowed as much water as her sister.
Albion had lost its fleet, and Nerron had almost lost his eight-legged spy. Luckily, twin spiders were made of hardier stuff than ships of wood or iron. And Reckless had also done quite well, if the spider’s report was true. Fire from the sky . . . water . . . smoke . . . death. Nerron had some trouble figuring out exactly what had happened, but in the end all he needed to know were two things: the Goyl attack had made the crossbow even more attractive to all their enemies, and Reckless had made it back to the mainland – with the head.
Oh, this race was fun. Even if the princeling had the hand for now. And speak of the devil . . . the knocks on Nerron’s door sounded like someone who wasn’t used to standing in front of closed doors. Nerron nudged the spider back into the medallion and opened the door.
‘Look at this!’ Louis shoved a discoloured shirtsleeve into Nerron’s face. ‘They can’t even wash clothes in this dump! And what do you think my father will say when I telegraph him that Lelou had to pick lice from my hair this morning?’
Nerron pictured the chandelier he wanted to build from Louis’s bones. Imagination was such a wonderful gift!
‘What are we looking for next?’ Ah. He’d tasted blood. The hunger for the hunt. Louis had far too many royal robbers in his ancestry to be immune to it.
‘Get the others and meet me behind the stables.’
Nerron wanted to slam the door shut, but Louis put his expensive boot in the jamb. ‘You’re not really the chatty kind, Goyl. I think you’re not telling us everything you know about this search.’
And why should I, my princeling? So you or your dad might get the idea to search for the crossbow yourselves?
‘Ask Lelou. He’ll know more than I,’ Nerron replied. ‘And about those lice: why don’t you just have the landlord waive your wine bill?’
Louis picked a particularly fat specimen from his forehead and crushed it with disgust between his fingers.
‘Fine,’ he said, pulling his boot out of the door. ‘Behind the stables. But remember, I don’t like waiting.’
Of course, it was Nerron who ended up waiting. Maybe they found some more lice. Quite astonishing that Louis’s eau de toilette didn’t kill them all on the spot. Eaumbre trudged silently behind his royal charge, but Lelou was talking at Louis in his usual breathless way. He only quieted when he saw Nerron beside the saddled horses.
‘Lelou says you told him we have to also find a heart and a head before we get the crossbow?’ Louis had the swindlesack with the hand hanging from his gold-studded belt. He ran his fingers over it, as if to remind them that so far he was the more successful treasure hunter, not Nerron.
Blue-blooded idiot.
