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“Is that why you left?” Oleander asked.
I rapidly blinked. “Is this really the conversation you want to be having now as we’re dragging your severely injured friend on a covert route to try to smuggle you two out of the area?”
Oleander ducked her head, and some of her gorgeous blond hair—that was silky smooth with not a strand of frizz, which I would bet was an elf trait—slipped over her shoulder from where Jaqleon’s arm had pinned it. “I overstepped my boundaries, I apologize.”
“No, don’t apologize,” I groaned. “It’s just…really? Now?”
“I am a Mors, and I was an active member of King Noctus’s guard,” Oleander said apologetically. “Though it’s been many years, I am used to active war zones. And Jaqleon is in rough shape, but not critical. He’s from the Auron province—not as tough as a regular Mors elf.”
“I see,” I said, trying not to think about the implications of an ex-guard who now worked for aclothingboutique? “We need to turn here,” I said. “There are a couple of alleyways we can use—I want to get us off the open streets.”
“Understood,” Oleander said.
She was silent, and I felt bad for questioning her. It wasn’t like she’d really asked that personal a question—I was more shocked that Noctus hadn’t given everyone a reason for my sudden exit. Though I suppose he also never explained why he’d suddenly adopted a cat, so maybe his people were used to not getting explanations.
I sighed as we edged down a dank alleyway, the noise from main street fading away. “My family is human. They live like humans,” I said. “My brother and sister are involved with supernaturals because of me, but they’rehuman. No matter how much I try to protect them, a fae or vampire could charm or daze them with their abilities and anything they knew would be fair game,” I said.
“In theory they could have moved into Calor Villa, but they’rehuman.” I glanced at Jaqleon—not nearly as convinced of his health as Oleander was. “My parents are traveling around the USA right now, living out their lifelong dream of camping. My brother and sister—as much as they want to be with me—have their own dreams they want to accomplish. They’d move to Calor in a moment if I asked, but they’ve given up so much for me, I can’t ask for them to stay permanently in Calor, and they’re too much of a risk to just let them keep living normal lives, knowing about the existence of Noctus and…you all.”
We popped out of the alleyway and headed south again. I could see the clocktower getting closer—we were almost there.
“So you fear accidentally revealing…us,” Oleander slowly said.
“Yes,” I panted.
“I understand.” There was something about the tone of her voice, but I couldn’t risk looking away from the skyline.
Oleander, apparently, was tracking this complex conversation perfectly while doing most of the work carrying Jaqleon. Meanwhile, I was struggling to keep my brain calm enough to figure out what streets we were following.
“It seems our shortcomings have finally grown consequences,” Oleander said.
“What?” I asked.
Jaqleon groaned, and Oleander busied herself with repositioning her comrade.
“We’re almost there,” I nervously said. “Do you want help carrying him to the gate?”
“Yes, please,” Oleander said.
We turned another corner, and I saw the bottom floor of the clocktower. No one was standing outside it, but cars were driving up and down the street, so we had to wait a minute before crossing—I didn’t want to risk popping out and testing my magic. Not today!
Once we reached the clocktower, I struggled to hold on to the pair and open the heavy door with one hand, but I did it, and wedged my foot in the doorway before pushing it open with my hip.
Jaqleon’s head sagged alarmingly, and he groaned again when we jolted him while scuffling through the doorway.
“I’m sorry, I have one last potion in my backpack. Maybe we should have administered it once we got far enough away.” My voice was loud in the near silence of the clocktower—all the businesses in the tower were elf owned, so they must have vacated it based on the dimmed lights.
Oleander shook her head. “Rodaric indicated there would be help waiting once we got through the gate. They’ll have elf made potions, which will inherently work better on Jaqleon.”
“Okay, I’ll trust you on that. Where are we going?”
Oleander nodded to an employees only door that I personally knew had what felt like an endless staircase. “To the basement.”
Now that we were in the clocktower, I wasn’t so militant on touching them—I was pretty sure no one was going to be lurking around the tower, and if they were my magic wasn’t going to do much given the situation.
So I scurried ahead, opening the stairway door, and helping tuck Jaqleon’s limbs in when we went through the door.
It was a tricky trek to the basement—I had to pull an ID card from Oleander’s pocket and swipe it, and we passed by two magic shields—but it struck me as odd that Oleander was supporting Jaqleon’s side.
