We pack up the camp and make our way through the forest, toward a run-down city that smells like absolute shit.
“Where are we?”
“Solmead,” Zadyn says, close by my side.
“The glittering gem of Vod,” Kai pipes, leaning on a broken tree branch we fashioned into a walking stick for him. I hang back to keep his pace as he limps alongside us.
I was worried he would never smile, never joke again after Kylian all but wrecked him with his brutality. I thank god his spirit isn’t broken after all.
Zadyn leads us toward a decrepit building that looks like it could collapse at the drop of a sneeze. The wooden stairs groan as we make our way up to his apartment. But when we reach the door, we find it slightly ajar.
Heavy boots sound on the other side.
Someone is here. And they’re looking for something. Or someone.
Zadyn freezes, his hand coming out to block me from taking another step. I hold my breath as he lifts a finger to his lips and Jace sneaks around his other side, silently drawing his sword with the onyx hilt.
Zadyn cranes his head to peer through the door and turns back to us.
Go, now, Zadyn mouths.
We retreat silently the way we came, bursting out into the hot sun. Zadyn’s hand wraps around mine as we fly down the rat-infested alleyways.
“This way!”
We follow Ilayna onto a narrow street lined with trade booths, past an old female seated behind a cart of crimson apples. As we pass, she stands, clamping a crinkled hand around Jace’s arm with shocking strength.
“Heed my warning, boy,” she says to him.
He wrenches free and marches away.
“What was she talking about?”
He shakes his head, ignoring my question. But I’ve studied and dreamt of that face enough to know what the strain in his eye means.
“Zadyn, can you glamour the six of you?” Ilayna asks. “It’s best if no one sees you come in.”
He nods. “Is this safe?”
Her eyes dart around the empty corridor. “Safe as you’ll get right now.”
“Come on.” He urges us forward. “No one say a word.”
Under the invisibility of Zadyn’s glamour, we make our way down a long, red-tinged corridor and into a perfumed parlor with luxurious curtains and daybeds. Beautiful females in expensive-looking dresses strut around on the arms of well-kept males, fawning over them flirtatiously.
Is this a brothel?
No one says a word as Ilayna turns down a few hallways and holds open a door for us.
“Okay,” she says, closing us in.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“A whorehouse,” someone answers mildly.
Ilayna looks at the ground. “These rooms are usually reserved for our highest paying patrons, but there are no reservations today. Idoubt anyone will come snooping. It’s a suite, there’s another room through that door. You should be safe here for a while.”
“Thank you, Ilayna,” Zadyn says sincerely. He turns to me. “Stay here. I want to go see what those men in my flat were up to.”
