“I do not,” she muttered. “And his name is Aidan.”
All three women blinked.
“He has a name?” Beatriz looked repulsed by this.
“He has three pint-size dogs and a beautiful home.”
They all sat back and pondered this for a moment until Beatriz finally got down to it. “Alright. So, he’s sexy. He's got three tiny-ass dogs. And we need a secret to force his hand. Anything else I’m missing?”
Elysia nodded at her sister’s summary. “We each belong to an important sector. Beatriz, you’ve got the undead market. I don’t know what your business is, but I’m not stupid—you're moving something. Jessa, you run a bar that caters to people who travelthe seas and keep our city running. People treat them as if they’re invisible—which means secrets are spilled around them constantly, so get nosy, ask questions. And Doorman, well, you have the House.”
Beatriz’s mouth flapped open wordlessly as she sputtered at being found out, but her girlfriend just patted her hand and shushed her.
Jessa frowned. “What about you? You’re the one who can sniff out a secret like a dog’s behind.”
Elysia grimaced. “Thank you for that, Jessa. What a painting of my skills. I will assist all of you, but... I will also visit the librarians and the office in charge of the census. Find out if any of the death priestesses survived the aftermath of the Fall. Oh, and I want to see if that old meela is still around.”
Jessa leaned back on one elbow. “I thought it was common knowledge that all the priests and priestesses were killed by the king’s edict after the Fall, and I hate to break it to you, but the meela is long gone. She never stays more than the days it takes her to get to Bellia.”
Elysia shook her head. “There were some priestesses so powerful that they were afraid to kill them. The thought being it's best not to murder those with a supposed direct line to the gods even if magic is gone.”
Everyone fell silent at that. Lost in thoughts of abandoned temples, rituals, and magic long buried. The people they knew and didn’t know who had lost their lives over the years for so much as a spark of magic surviving.
“It’s not likely we’ll find anything. There’s every chance we’ll be right back where we started and I’ll regret not getting on a ship out of here, but what we’re doing matters. If there’s a chance that someone else can grow up differently... then it’s worth it,” Elysia said quietly.
The words were as much for herself as they were for others. Even though the women in her living room knew that none of them called her on it. Instead, they raised their long-cold teas in the air.
Beatriz shoved her mug against the others. “To the women whose names are never known who fix the mistakes of men that we all may have better lives.”
Chapter 35
Topp Blatz had foundhimself in some strange and unfortunate places in his life. Much like today, it was usually completely and entirely his own fault. He was made for direct confrontation, not hiding in cabinets half his size. Yet here he was, feigning he had any skill at this sort of thing.
The blinding pain in his knee felt like it might be an indicator that he definitely didnotpossess any skill for subterfuge. To be fair, it had only been a few days since catapulting out of Elysia’s window, and his body still hadn’t entirely forgiven him for that little stunt. Shifting his already contorted frame, he tried to pretend the ache in his knee was not trying to murder him. One false move and he would be found out, so he bit down on the pain, refusing to so much as breathe wrong.
He’d been waiting in his father’s office when he heard not only the king coming but also Terrin. He would say that Terrin reminded him of a weasel, but he’d rehabilitated a weasel once, and that would be rude to vermin everywhere. Terrin was King Blatz’s favorite sort of advisor. He had no wife or husband or lover of any sort, no kids—he had nothing.
Nothing but ambition and his king.
And by the gods, did Topp hate the miserable man. Anyone with their nose that far up his father’s ass ought to be made a snack for a pig. Or just needed a good punch to face. Either would be fine, so long as he didn’t have to listen to Terrin snivel anymore.
Topp tried to adjust his shoulder against the confines of the cabinet only to find his arm now dead and numb to the point that he couldn’t even tell if it had moved at all. He gave an inaudible sigh. Throwing yourself into a cabinet in order to eavesdrop on someone was downright uncomfortable. He much preferred intimidating people into confessing what he needed to know.
Except his father was the one person his tricks would never work on. Never had, never would. That was the problem with family. Anyone who's seen you butt-ass naked, waving your cloth diaper in the air as you run through the castle halls, is never going to see you quite the same as anyone else, even when you are a grown man.
His arm throbbed painfully as it decided to come back to life. He didn’t know how Elysia did this sort of thing all the time. Shewasrather bendy. The thought almost helped him forget the shooting pain spreading from his knee to his thigh. Almost.
Hearing his own name tossed out amongst the rubbish they’d been blathering on about, he tilted his head to peer out the small crack between the door and the framing.
Money. Killing off that irritating group of vigilante magic users.
“Was surprised Topp led that charge, Your Grace.”
His father edged his response with the appropriate amount of derision. “You question my son’s loyalty, even now?”
Topp focused on keeping his breathing both silent and steady—hearing them speak of the dead rebels triggered him to retreat into himself, but that wasn’t an option at the moment. Heneeded to listen even if he’d rather disappear than hear about his failures. Years of hiding and studying other culture’s magic as he traveled—and what had he accomplished? Nothing.
All he had to his name was a long list of people who never made it home.
