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I charter a ride on the globe, using the main city craft provider, rather than giving my location to my guard. This house is Hel’s, and I will not have its placement known to more people than necessary. For one, who knows when we might need a hideout again?
"The hovercraft will be here in five," I say.
I can think of a million different ways to make use of those few minutes, but Helyn's writing short letters. Instead of disrupting her, I watch her, face scrunched up in concentration, biting her lip.
"Anything I can help with?" I ask when I can bear to interrupt her.
She shakes her head, eyes staying on her work."I'm almost finished. Just letting Alva know she can let anyone who needs it use the house, and telling the utilities to bill me, so they keep the water and heat, that sort of thing."
I can't pinpoint why I don't like any of this at first. "You grew up here. Don't you want to keep it, visit it when you feel like it?"
I might have used the Whyte Fort for years, but the Dark Keep is my home.
"Maybe," she admits. "But I haven't come here in the last ten weeks. I'd rather it house a family in need than sit empty for the sake of nostalgia."
While I understand her, I don't want her to sacrifice anything. "Keep the house. I'll build a shelter ten times its size, if it makes you feel better."
She frowns up at me. "A new shelter would be nice. But when it's full, someone might need the house too. You underestimate the poverty of the undercity if you think one act of goodwill can fix it."
I don't underestimate anything—I'm fully aware that I know nothing of her neighborhood, save for its reputation for crime and debauchery."It's my offer: you keep the house, I build a shelter. Take it or leave it." I'll have her keep a piece of joy for herself, even if I have to barter for it.
Hel's jaw tightens. "Fine," she grumbles, crumpling one piece of paper in her hand. "Happy?"
"Exceedingly." I glance at the time. "Let's be on our way."
"To Ravelyn?" She hesitates. "I should stay in the city. Check on the Rhodeses." Her nose wrinkles as she says it, her loyalty reluctant but there nonetheless.
"I called a meeting, and as my regent, your stepfather will be there." That is, if he's alive. I didn't think to enquire about his welfare when I contacted the palace. "The fighting may be over, but I'll feel better if you’re out of the city for the time being, Hel."
She sighs and nods, though grudgingly. I can't be surprised at her lack of enthusiasm, given that I threw her in my labyrinth and dressed her in my mother's pearls on her last visit. "It won't be like your last time in the Whyte Fort. I won't torture you." I stop to think one moment. "Much."
"You don't have to. Your weather will do it for you."
I remember how she suffered in the Devar house, mild as the temperature is. My country must have been unbearably cold to her over the weekend.
"You have my protection, remember? You'll be fine."
She's doubtful, but she joins me all the same. We leave the house by the front door, in daylight this time. I get to see the gray-paved sinuous street, the sandy small houses stacked like hay, with colorful doors and tiny square windows. The street might have been picturesque in a romantic painting, but from here, I smell the stench and feel the blinding heat, so much heavier than in the rest of the city, with so many people enclosed in small quarters.
The ride I order stands out, sleek and matte black. The driver's parked a little farther down the street, as it gets too narrow this far up. A small crowd has gathered around it, admiring the model. One man stands out to me, dressed under a cloak, holding himself straight a few steps away from the hovercraft, eyes looking straight at us.
"Khel!" Hel calls, smiling. "I'm glad to see you here. How's Alva, and the rest?"
She starts to walk toward him, and I tense.
If there's one thing I'm good at by right of nature, it's reading people, and this man holds a shadow. I trail her steps close, my attention glued to the man.
"Well. She took no part in the fight yesterday."
I note that he says nothing of himself.
The man, quite handsome and a little older, looks up to me pointedly.
Hel clears her throat. "This is Zale. Zale, Khel. We're on our way out, but I'll check on the Claws very soon."
Claws?I have so many questions, none of which I want to ask here and now.
The man doesn't say anything, staying planting between us and the transport. I take Hel's hand and start to lead her away. "We're late."
