“You coming with us or staying here?”
Night chuffed and stood. He bent his head and nudged each of his offspring. Pax and Willa took turns rubbing their faces against his before springing for the edge of the roof.
“Don’t—” Tate’s protest came too late as the twins dug their claws into the plaster of the walls, descending in one fluid movement that took the blink of an eye.
At any other time, Tate might have admired their skill, but now all she could feel was resignation.
“I really hope Thora doesn’t see those marks.”
Tate was already in enough trouble as it was. If he found out the Veles were responsible for more damage to his precious headquarters, he’d probably try to decapitate her.
“I suspect he’ll be more preoccupied with that giant dent Ilith left,” Dewdrop offered.
Tate wished she had his optimism.
Tate started walking, skirting the building in favor of the gravel path that would lead to the front gates and out of the palace.
By now, she knew the way by heart.
She passed in front of headquarters and the dragon’s head stamped in wood over the large door, walking down the wide gravel path that only served to draw attention to the stately manor.
She reached the end of the drive. Should she turn right, she’d end up at the palace where it perched along the edge of cliffs that overlooked the ocean and the area of the city known as the Lower.
Aurelia was called the gem of the empire in large part because of that palace. When it caught the light exactly right, the black stone it was built from shimmered as if diamond dust was trapped within its depths.
Turning left would take her to the palace gates and beyond it the Upper where the most affluent lived. Land came at a premium, but you wouldn’t know it to look at the houses. Every one of which was big enough to hold dozens of families from the Lower. The lots were large and well-tended, protected by impenetrable gates that offered their residents privacy.
In the Lower, homes tended to be much closer together. Many of the buildings, especially those that butted up against the cliff, were built from flimsy material that was meant to only offer temporary shelter but had somehow managed to last decades.
It was also where the wharf and docks were, along with several nighttime markets.
Of the two, Tate preferred the Lower. It was less stifled. Livelier than the Upper.
Tate slowed as they approached the gates, spotting a figure leaning against one pillar, his face tipped up to the sky. Eyes closed.
Dewdrop and Tate shared a look.
“Give me a moment,” she told him and Night.
“Come on, Night. If we linger, who knows what will happen.”
Night’s whiskers tilted forward in a silent laugh as he padded after Dewdrop, his children frolicking at his feet.
Pax pounced on Willa, sending her rolling. She chirped and pawed at him, giving chase when he fled.
Tate smiled as she stopped next to Jacob. “I thought you’d be watching over the children.”
“Blaise can do that.” Jacob finally opened his eyes to study her.
He looked better than he had during the visit to Silvain. Gone was the gaunt look on his face and his frame, and his features had finally filled out. He looked healthy.
At least physically.
Mentally, was another story.
Jacob carried scars no one should have to bear. She didn’t know who he’d been before his captivity and torture, but the man he was now was quiet. Reserved. He rarely spoke unless needed. Always waiting and watching from the background.
Many would pity him. They’d consider him broken and in need of fixing, never realizing how the way they saw him might act like poison within his veins, turning him from a survivor into a victim.
