Oskar strode out to the center of the cobbled street and filled both hands with swords. Peeling from the shadows, the Blades joined him, their strong bodies wrapped in leather and cloaks, black hoods drawn over their heads. The five assassins waited with patient breath, feet spread, weapons held at the ready.
“Comeon,” Petrina hissed, dragging Selene by the wrist.
On the next street over, Petrina pulled Selene inside a tavern and took a pair of gray cloaks from a line of pegs. They outfitted themselves on the way to the bar, where Petrina ordered two pints.
“We don’t have time for a drink,” Selene said, nearly gagging on the body odor wafting from her stolen cloak.
Petrina raised her hood. “Quiet.”
Their pints arrived, and Petrina raised hers for a toast. Selene mirrored her, and they clinked glasses, then drank.
“Out the back,” Petrina said, taking her ale with her.
They moved deftly through the crowd—Selene had never known so many people to drink this early—then thrust into a kitchen, startling a pair of large men.
“What—?” one began.
Petrina shoved her ale at him. “For you.”
Selene handed hers to the second man, who was too shocked to deny it. Then, they were through the rear door and in a shadowed alley with hoods raised.
“Do you think he followed us?” Selene asked.
“I don’t know. He got the drop on a Blade, so he’s good. We need to be better.”
A pebble hit the ground right in front of them. A heartbeat later, a second landed and bounced as if thrown.
Selene flashed her gaze up in time to see the swish of a cloak.
“That answers that,” Petrina said, pulling Selene into the busy street.
“We could go after him.” Selene didn’t know if she could run up the wall without enough space, but Petrina could. And there were plenty of crates to climb. “We can take him together.”
Petrina met Selene’s gaze. “You’re not ready for someone like him.”
“But, you are.” Selene took her hands. “Go. I’ll be fine?—”
“I’m not leaving you. Come on. We need to lose him, and then we decide our next steps.”
The only step after that was to find and help Augustus.
Selene and Petrina wound blindly through the city, weaving in and out of random businesses, exchanging clothes as they went. Inside a scorching hot building with a forge and an anvil on the sign, they listened to the smithy and a customer gossip over a swordfight between a bunch of foreigners only a mile away.
“Think it’s related to the big show over in The Crossroads?” the smithy asked.
“D’know,” the man said with a thick-shouldered shrug. “Don’t think so.I’m heading over as soon as we’re done here. You should close up for an hour. Don’t want to miss Phya take down the Triarius boy a few pegs, do ya?”
Petrina pulled Selene outside after that. “Don’t react. Just walk.”
They were now wrapped in bright, thin shawls that the women around here used to cover their heads and shoulders.
“I thought Thorne was setting a trap,” Selene whispered, heart thudding against her sternum like a drum. “Isn’t Phya just a money man? What would he do to Augustus?”
“We can’t worry about that.” Petrina scanned the rooftops. “We have to survive first.”
“Is he still there?” As far as Selene could tell, they hadn’t been followed.
“Yes.”
