He stared down at it without a flicker of triumph or defeat in his gaze.
I fisted my knife in my lap. I had no intention of using it against him—yet. But holding it was a comfort all the same.
He gently laid his last tile next to mine. An eight. He won.
Fear quickly chased my disappointment away. “What favor do you want?” I whispered.
His smile sent a shiver ricocheting between my shoulder blades. “I’ll show you. But you have to wear this.”
He pulled something out of a drawer and tossed it on top of the tiles, making them bounce and skitter away.
A black metal Wolf mask snarled up at me.
The mask madeit hard to breathe.
But perhaps that was for the best as I walked through an alley in the middle of the Docks Quarter. Rotting fish, congealed urine, and a thousand other smells assaulted my nose through the holes in the metal snout.
I hated the mask. I wished I could say I hated the Wolf uniform, too, but it was gods-damned comfortable. Soft and loose, and the boots barely made a sound on the uneven cobblestones.
A long sunstone sword, inconspicuous in its sheath, tapped against my leg as I walked.
Renwell touched my shoulder. I stopped and glanced at his matching mask.
I’d nearly backed out of our wager when he met me at my door that evening, also dressed as a Shadow-Wolf. But if I could kill him for reneging, then he would likely do the same.
“No talking” had been his first rule. “Follow my lead” had been his second. When I asked what we were supposed to do, he simply said, “Keep Aquinon safe.”
I highly doubted our idea of safety was the same.
Renwell pointed to where a group of sailors swaggered down another alley adjacent to ours. Their loud jokes rattled against the stone walls like the cluster of bones tied to their waists.
I fell in step behind Renwell as he tailed them.
So far, we had done nothing but prowl the streets. Other groups of Wolves did as well. I wondered if they still lived in the Den after the battle two months ago. Renwell pointed out we couldn’t use the faster passage from the royal bedchamber to the Den because Aiden had destroyed it when we escaped.
I hadn’t replied.
Instead, I’d darted my gaze everywhere I could, hidden by the mask. I’d observed the cliff gate—raised as always. I’d peered into the harbor to see what defenses Renwell had set up but saw none, other than the two watchtowers.
I didn’t see his third warship.
Even if I did, I had no way of contacting Aiden. Holy Four, I was glad he couldn’t see me now.
We tailed the group of sailors until they piled into one of the busy taverns. Renwell swapped targets for a thin, mousy man who scurried between pools of light.
Why were we following this man? He looked harmless.
But then I spotted the bulging sack at his waist that rang with the sweet sound of coins, no matter how carefully he walked. He must’ve won a great deal tonight.
Surprise fluttered in my belly. Strange that Renwell seemed to be protecting this man, rather than stalking potential criminals.
After another turn down an alley, we lost him. Renwell held up a fist to stop me. We listened.
Muffled thumps and yells came from ahead.
We drew our swords and darted toward the sound. The mousy man was on the ground bleeding while a large, bald sailor snatched at the coin bag.
Renwell slid his sword under the bald man’s chin. The man immediately froze. He followed the sword’s glittering edge to its owner. The blood drained from his face.
