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“Any word?” he inquired, jerking them all around to meet his gaze.
“Nothing,” Eno growled as he lowered his phone and shoved it into his pocket. He opened his mouth to probably start with a barrage of questions, but Rayne spoke before he could.
“The owner of the shop has kindly offered us the use of the second-floor apartment for the night,” he said, opening his hand to display the old brass key on a silver ring. “I suggest we retire there so we can speak on what has occurred.”
Caelan nodded and turned toward the alley with Rayne following on his heels. The prince was clearly distraught. No, the king. It was hard to think of Caelan like that. Not because he wasn’t capable, but that he’d been Prince Caelan for twenty-three years. It was woven into his identity. While Caelan wouldn’t officially be named King Caelan until the ascension ceremony in Stormbreak, it didn’t change the fact that he was now the king of Erya.
But his friend didn’t need the added burden of a new, heavier title right now. He’d lost his mother, his throne, his birthright, and his people all in a matter of minutes. Rage had to be coursing through Caelan’s veins. Rage and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. A need for revenge.
Those were certainly the feelings that pricked at Rayne’s mind when he didn’t keep a tight clamp on his thoughts. What of his parents? And his younger sister? Were they still in the capital? Were they even still alive? Anger swelled but he tightened his fist on it and shoved it down again. Impulsive action and brooding would save no one.
His first thought had been to reach out to his family, but it was too dangerous. Right now, secrecy was on their side. The world thought Caelan was dead. If the Empire truly believed it, that gave them some room to plan and maneuver.
But if they knew Caelan was alive, then Rayne was a known associate. The prince’s dutiful advisor. If the Empire got their hands on Rayne’s family, they could be forced to reveal what they knew about Rayne’s location, leading them to Caelan.
He had to put his own family and worries aside for now. For the protection of Caelan, and ultimately, for the well-being of all the people of Erya. He had to be the strong, stable voice of reason for all of them.
Back at the shop, Rayne moved to lead the way up the exterior stairs, but Eno placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, pulling him to a stop. The warrior held out his hand and waggled his fingers once. Rayne placed the key in his palm with only a small glare. It was on the tip of his tongue to argue that he could check the security of the room, but then what was the point? That was Eno’s job.
Before climbing the stairs, Rayne caught only a glimpse of the pain reflected in Eno’s warm brown eyes. Rayne started to reach out to him, but stopped himself, curling his fingers into a tight fist to keep from touching Eno. He managed a brisk nod and stepped back. Later. They would be able to deal with it all later.
They waited as the bodyguard quickly ascended to the second floor and unlocked the exterior door. It opened on a low, loud creak. Reaching inside, Eno flipped on a light and immediately sneezed.
“Dus-dusty,” he managed between another fit of sneezes.
“Is it clear?” Caelan demanded.
“The front room is clear. Come up. I’ll check the others.”
Rayne led the way up the stairs followed by Caelan and Drayce to find a cozy main room with a blue sofa that had certainly seen better days and a pair of bright orange armchairs. All were positioned near a scarred wooden coffee table. A small kitchen stood off to one side of the room and two doors opened off of it. The wooden floors creaked and groaned under their feet with every step. At least they’d hear if there was an unexpected intruder in the place.
The walls were creamy white with a couple of faded spots where pictures had once hung, hinting at a life lived here for a time before the person moved on to something else. Their presence here would be even more temporary. Just a night or two. Long enough to plan their next steps and gather some information.
Eno had left one door open to reveal a small bathroom covered in white-and-blue tile. He could see only a small portion of the remaining room, but it looked to be a bedroom with a pair of single beds. Not the best sleeping arrangements, but definitely a step above camping in the Ordas.
He dropped his pack on the hardwood floor and quickly hurried over to the pair of windows to pull the blinds closed. “Shut the door and lock it,” he ordered.
