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“She’s a solid mare,” he replied without looking at her. “We can always use more good horses in Meresin.”
“Good livestock is always valuable,” Nic agreed, beaming at him innocently when he glared over his shoulder at her.
“Is this you being helpful?” he asked.
She blinked in false surprise. “But you told me—in no uncertain terms—that you didn’t need my assistance.”
He grunted, lifting his gaze to the second story, wondering if the wizard and Narlis lived above the shop.
“She won’t be up there,” Nic said at his elbow.
“Why aren’t you on your horse?” he ground out.
“Because I dismounted,” she confided, smiling sweetly. Then she tapped a gloved finger against her chin, pretending to think. “If only there were a way for you to make me follow your orders… Oh! I know. You could—”
“Stop.” He sighed out his exasperation, fighting not to laugh at her mischief.
Nic’s eyes sparkled knowingly. Though she had the hood of her cloak down on the chilly, overcast, but so far rainless day, the white fur ruff framed her striking beauty perfectly. “Narlis almost certainly lives out back,” Nic told him.
“Out back?”
“I don’t condone this enterprise, but I don’t care to linger in this town either. Iblis isn’t the type to keep his familiar in his quarters. She’ll have a space in the carriage house at best, stable or kennel at worst.” She lifted her brows at his shock. “Livestock.”
“I hate this,” he muttered, going back to gather up the horses’ reins, leading them down the row of shops and looking for an entrance to the alley behind.
“It’s exhausting fighting the world,” Nic agreed.
“You would know,” he shot back, then regretted it. “I’m sorry,” he said, though she looked thoughtful, not upset.
“No, you’re right. I did find that out, the hard way.” She had her hands tucked inside her cloak since he was leading the three horses. “That’s part of why I gave up.”
Ouch.“Nic, I—”
“No, no.” She extracted a hand and waved him off. She never did seem to want his sympathy. In fact, she actively rejected it. “I’m in a mood this morning. Don’t mind me.”
She picked up her pace so she was leading the way, and he followed after, knowing full well that their conversation of the afternoon before was the cause of her mood. Oh, she’d been perfectly charming company, alternately playful and solicitous. As promised, she’d soaked in the tub for hours and emerged looking like Lady Veronica Elal again—tightly swathed in the warm robe he’d bought her.
And she’d also retreated behind that wall of polite formality, her manners beyond reproach, no sign of the sensual woman who’d nearly succeeded in seducing him despite his better judgment.
He had to lengthen his stride to keep up with her brisk pace as she walked purposefully down a winding path behind the shops. He’d expected loading docks and so forth, but the rear side of the shops were residences. Several stories tall, most had expanses of windows, porches, and balconies to take advantage of the view of the harbor and ocean. He’d never have guessed they were there, but Nic seemed unsurprised.
“Have you been here before?” he asked, catching up with her, feeling quite sure she said she hadn’t.
“Never. Why?”
“You knew about these residences being back here.”
“Don’t they do this in Meresin? This is pretty standard for the Convocation. Shops face the street, then residences are on the quiet side, away from traffic and commerce.” She pointed to a row of rooftops on the downhill side, occasional stairways leading down. “Those will be the stables, kennels, and carriage houses, bordering the next street down.”
They reached the back of the locksmith shop, the residence there looking equally dark. “Could be he left town,” Gabriel noted. Hopefully the bastard wouldn’t renege on the secrecy Gabriel had bought.
“Iblis said he knew the maker of the collar,” Nic said. “It was a hunter collar. Therefore, the Iblis maker that our lowly locksmith knows has a business relationship with the same Convocation folks who sent the hunters.”
“I paid him for his silence,” Gabriel reminded her, following her down some steep steps and leaving the horses tied above. He had a bad feeling about the situation, though.
Nic shrugged. “The Convocation will probably pay him even more. They no doubt consider me a renegade. Even if they didn’t feel they needed to make an example of me—which they undoubtedly do—there are few things the Convocation fears more than an uncontrolled familiar.”
He caught her arm. “Why?”
