only sadness in her eyes.
pain in her scent.
annoyed with Raven now.
but all my anger is for Azarel.
want to kill him.
want to tear his limbs.
want to make him suffer.
they all move now.
gathering things.
talking plans.
I rise.
follow Moon.
where she goes, I go.
even to the end of the world.
Chapter 18
COSIMA
The streetsof Surhiira are so fucking clean you could lick them. And I'd consider itlongbefore I willingly ate anything from Geo's club.
We're drawing stares everywhere we go, and I know it's not just because we're a mismatched pack of outsiders trying to blend in with the elite and posh tourists that have been let in.
It's because of Knight. Even with the tactical jacket and the heavy scarf wrapped around his lower face, even with that intricately crafted silver mask that could pass for Surhiiran artistry, he's still at least eight feet of violence stalking through their pristine streets.
Not many white-haired alphas—oromegas—around here, either.
At least Surhiirans' default response to obvious outsiders ranges from curiosity to concern rather than outright hostility like in Reinmich. So far, we haven't run into any trouble.
The palace will be its own test.
A woman clutching a basket of those spiky pink fruits I've grown fond of does a double take as we pass. Her eyes go wide, darting between Knight and the rest of us, then hurries across the street as if we might eat her children. To be fair, Knightdoeseat people, but he has a taste for rowdy alphas, not innocent civilians.
"Maybe we should have left him at the inn," Nikolai mutters under his breath, adjusting the red-tinted glasses he stole back from Geo.
"We're pack. Where we go, he goes," I say firmly. Besides, if we left him at the inn, the chances there would stillbean inn are slim to none.
Knight's hand brushes against my shoulder, a gentle touch that's become his way of asking if I'm okay. I pat his arm reassuringly. He's trying to make himself smaller, slouching and keeping his head down.
It's like watching a dragon try to pretend it's a house cat.
"There," Raven says, pointing to a shop with an elaborate window display of flowing silks and embroidered robes. "That should have everything we need."
The shop front is all carved white stone and gleaming glass, with mannequins draped in fabrics so fine they seem to float. It screams expensive in a way that makes my mouth water.
Theonegood thing about being an upper-crust omega in Reinmich was the shopping, and it's been ages since I indulged in a little retail therapy. But we need to look the part if we're going to waltz into the palace like we belong there.
