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By the time we’re done, his wound closes up again, whereas mine will take days to heal. It doesn’t matter. We’ve still exchanged blood. Our promises are binding in a primal sense. If either of us knowingly chooses to break them, we’ll die.
Although Zale might well be cruel enough to choose to die just to piss me off.
I wince. “What the hell?” The wound is burning me, white hot though it was so small.
I turn my wrist and gasp. Before my eyes, I see my skin closing up. The simple straight line of blood moves to form a complex and strangely beautiful design around my wrist.
The pain fades, and I’m healed in seconds, but the design remains, branded on my skin in sky-blue ink.
I glare at Zale. “You branded me?”
He shrugs. “Well, that’s a permanent vow. I could have left it as a boring old scar, but what’s the fun in that?”
I want to punch him, but I consider that could go against the promise I just made. I don’t want to die just to get even.
“You’re an ass.” I roll my eyes, pretending he isn’t getting to me. “Let’s go.”
He doesn't protest as I jump back to shore, and take off down the streets, toward the only place that makes sense.
My part of the city.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
WITHIN FOUR WALLS
I've only seen Helyn move like this twice, once on that first night in the garden, and in my maze. Up here in the city, she's faster, never hesitating as she scales ten-foot walls or leaps to a roof yards away. I can barely keep up, though I'm better trained and part fae. I don't doubt she's stealthier.
She rebuffs my every attempt to speak with a stern look, and makes me crouch low, wait, and hide several times.
I push all thought of the attack away and focus on the moment. Explosions can still be heard all over the city. The priority is my safety and Helyn's. We need to return to Ravelyn and plan retaliation from a position of strength. Remaining caught as a bargaining ship for the brutes is out of the question.
At least I ensured that if I am taken, there's a future path for my realm, a successor to my throne.
She won't have it easy. Half of the coldbloods will try to manipulate her, and the other half's likely to stab her in a dark alley. I know enough about Helyn to trust she'll manage. Despite my best effort, she has enough allies and admirers to withstand the storm.
If we both live through this and reach our destination, she'll give me an earful once she understands what I tricked her into.
I grin, eyes on the fresh mark at her wrist.
I shouldn't be having as much fun as I am, given the circumstances, but I refuse to let myself think of all those in the arena. Reiks, his woman, my regents, my guards. I have to believe they found their way out. And if they didn't, now isn't the time to mourn their loss.
"We'll have to wait for dark," Hel whispers low, sitting on the flat roof of a two-story building at the corner of a sinuous avenue.
I join her as she closes her eyes. Her entire body remains on alert, tense.
"You can sleep, you know. I'll stand guard."
She snorts. "Right. Because you're so street smart."
She has me there.
I was schooled in warfare, in dueling and games of strategy. Our evasive escape is far from the behavior of a proper king, though it kept my head on my shoulders and laser-hole free, so I'm willing to adapt.
"I can sense people before you'd ever see them. There are…" I focus one moment. "About a hundred people in this street and the next one, all of their auras tinted by a degree of fear." A humorless chuckle escapes. "And excitement. Almost half of them…they like what happened uptown."
Helyn's green eyes cut through to mine. "Live in the gutter long enough, and you'd be excited by the prospect of change, too."
My jaw tightens.
