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“Er, yes,” Lord Bard said quickly. “That would be agreeable.”
“Fine,” I replied flatly. “Then I don’t see why we can’t all come to some quicker resolution than sitting here and arguing.”
I did not care about the thieves or the soldiers overly much. I might like to find Ambrose Dullahan, but not precisely for the same reasons as Scion, and not enough to spend infinite time with him.
I would never see Rosey’s journals again—I’d accepted that, albeit bitterly—but the one thing that stood out to me was her dream about this ship sinking and a message that was meant to be delivered. If, by some chance, it was the same ship…it was a slim chance, but better than nothing, that the group who’d sunk it would know what the message was.
If I could not read Rosey’s words, could not speak to Dullahan directly without giving up too much of myself in exchange, perhaps I could ask the thieves about my sister.
If, indeed, the dream was real.
Just as easily, this could prove to be nothing—unrelated—I’d almost prefer that. But either way, I had to know.
* * *
Scion barely lookedat me as we stepped back outside onto the city street. I was not sure I’d ever seen him so angry without shouting or shooting shadows from his fingers, and indeed, the silence was almost more alarming as we set off again—toward what, I was afraid to ask. He didn’t even remember to put the rope back on my arm. Not that I was going to remind him.
The streets had grown, if possible, busier in the time we’d been in the home of the lord and lady, and I found myself shivering as more and more eyes followed us. Strangers shouted unintelligible things, and on occasion, some brave fairy would try to approach. Despite the animosity between us, I found myself pushing closer into Scion’s side and berating myself for it.
My worst enemy had turned himself into my safest harbor, and I could not have hated him more for it if I tried.
“This is worse than I imagined,” Scion hissed as some brave Fae took a jolting step toward us as if he intended to reach for me.
Oh, is he speaking to me now, then?I did not know why I cared. I hardly wanted to speak to him either.
I danced out of the way and kept moving. “What is?”
Prince Scion turned to look back and shook his head. “It crossed my mind that bringing you out in public would cause a commotion.” He paused and shouldered a Fae male out of the way, his expression growing darker as he did so. “…but I did not think it would be this obvious.”
I coughed, sucking in air too sharply in my surprise. “I assumed they were staring atyou.”
It was impossible to deny that whether they realized they were staring at the Prince of Ravens or not, anyone looking at Scion would be taken aback. He was a head taller than most anyone else on the street and startlingly good-looking, even by Fae standards. His presence alone was like dangerous, violent waves of shadow, and when he looked at you, it was impossible to decide whether to run toward him or as far away as your legs could carry you.
“No.” The prince spoke low and pointedly. “They’re not looking at me.”
I gaped at him. It had not even occurred to me that I could be the cause of the commotion, but of course, it should have.
My entire life, the Fae had been drawn to me like moths to a flame. As a servant, it had been hell and made it impossible for me to make friends, as everyone viewed me as dangerous to be near. Now that he mentioned it, however, I realized something I hadn’t noticed before: in the last month or so, the curse had not been nearly so debilitating. “I didn’t think—”
“We should not discuss this here,” Scion growled, reaching down to touch the back of my elbow and steer me to turn to our right down a less crowded alleyway. “Go this way. I would prefer to avoid a fight in the next fifty yards.”
I followed his lead, supposing it was better than being dragged or allowing some strange fairy to accost me in the street. Scion, at least, was the evil I knew, which could only be better than some unknown threat.
We crossed the street and came to a halt in front of the shabby, pinewood front door of a two-story stone building. Scion let out something like a growl mixed with a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall to the left of the door. “Thank the fucking Source.”
I glanced around the street, hoping to glean for myself more about where we were. There was faint noise coming from the building, and a sign hanging off the roof above the only window on the first floor read “The Crossroads.”
“Where are we?”
Scion sneered down at me. “You don’t know? I thought this was your mission to run now.”
I drew myself up, annoyed. “Is there something you wanted to say? You weren’t exactly getting anywhere back there—excuse me for coming up with another solution.”
He looked at me, more disgusted than angry. “Is that what you think you accomplished? No, rebel, you’ve hardly come up with a solution. What you’ve done in addition to destroying the monarchy and ruining my family is gone and nearly started a fucking civil crisis because you do not understand how the country is run and never will!”
I reeled back as if he’d slapped me. “What are you talking about?”
“I can’t discuss this with you right now.”
