Out in the street, the sun is just as hot as it was before. Lochlan folds up the slip of paper with the names and shoves it into his pocket.
“You could’ve just given her one silver,” he says.
“I know.”
“You’re not Prince Corrick here. You don’t have an endless supply of coins in your bedroom.”
“For what it’s worth, I never did.”
“You haveno ideahow much it’s going to cost to buy passage to Fairde.”
“True, but even if we kept all ten,” I say, “I rather doubt Oren gave us enough.”
He says nothing to that. After a minute, he gives an aggravated sigh, digs a hand into his pocket, and thrusts a coin at me.
I shake my head.
“Take it,” he snaps.
We’re nearing the boarding house, and I wait for a break in the crowds in the street so we can cross. “No.”
He leans close and growls, “I’m going to force-feed you thiscoinin a second—”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Lochlan.” I stop in front of the blue door and knock. I hate the curl of fear in my gut that’s warning me that he’s right, and I should’ve held on to the coins. “If you want to make it up to me so badly, just use it to pay for the room.”
He inhales sharply to protest, but the girl opens the door, and Lochlan does exactly what I said.
We asked for a private room and we got one, but there’s only one bed and one washroom, and a small table with two stools in the corner. We won’t be here long, and there’s no sense wasting a coin on a second room. The woman from the clothier’s shop was right, and Harlow gave us a basket of towels and soaps when Lochlan handed over his silver. A small bowl of fruit and dried biscuits sits on the table, too, along with a pitcher of water. Once we’re inside, Lochlan tosses the bundle of clothes onto the bed, and I tell him to take the washroom first. I expect him to argue about that, too, but he doesn’t. He slips the shaving kit free from the bundle of clothes and disappears behind the door.
Then I’m alone.
Much like the moment we walked into the city, that’s a bit jarring. I can’t remember the last time I was alone. We spent so many days locked in the cave together. We didn’t talk much at all, but until this very second, I didn’t realize how weirdlyaccustomedI’ve grown to his company. I don’t think I’ve ever spent so many hours in the presence of anyone, including my own brother.
I unbuckle my jacket and toss it on the bed, then sink into one of the chairs and run a hand over the back of my neck.
I should be making a plan, but I keep thinking about the man and woman in the shop. I wonder if everyone here is as desperate as everyone in Kandala, just in a different way.
Not like I can do anything about it.
And now I’m supposed to go kill someone I’ve never met.Someone who might be just as desperate. Someone who’shelpingRian help these people.
Tessa would hate everything about this.
I know, my love. I’m trying.
I have to choke back emotion before it can form. If Lochlan comes out here and finds me on the verge of tears, I’ll perish on the spot. I wonder if Ford Cheeke is on the list of names. I should’ve asked Lochlan before he went into the washroom.
There’s a flaw in the wood on the table, and I pick at it absently while I think. Again, I should be plotting, planning, strategizing, but instead I just keep seeing Tessa. I hope she’s safe. For as much as I hate Rian, I don’t think he would hurt her. I remember the way he sat across from her at dinner in the palace, mocking me and flirting with her all at the same time.
He’s exactly the man Weston Lark would be, if he were real.
I swallow and it hurts. She thinks I’m dead. Rian might not harm her, but what I’m imagining him doing is a whole lot worse.
The washroom door opens sooner than I expect, and Lochlan emerges with his black hair damp and slicked back, his skin pink and scrubbed, his face freshly shaved—cleaner than I’ve ever seen him, and that includes the day he was invited to the palace to meet with the king. He has a towel wrapped around his waist, held in place with a clenched fist.
“Your turn,” he says.
“All right.” My thoughts are still tangled up with Tessa and Rian and nothing I want to imagine. Maybe I should just drown myself in the bathtub.
