Without a second thought, I make my way across the garden and through the same door he just fled. As I reach it, I hear the soft close of the next one—the one that leads to the alley. I step behind it and wait, counting imagined footsteps. Even though the hesitation poses the risk that I could lose him, it gives enough delay that he won’t hear the door open again…and see me following.
After several seconds pass, I take a deep breath, and quietly open the door.
The alleyway is empty with no sign of him to the left or right. I nibble my lip, debating which way to go, and settle on the left. It won’t be too inconvenient to double back if he isn’t there. I stalk down the alley, my heart hammering with something close to excitement. I’m not sure what I expect to find, but part of me is desperate to catch him attempting something vile. If I do, it will prove Nimue’s claims about his nature. I could even stop him in the act, deliver my kiss when he’s caught unawares, and fulfill my mission without the slightest hesitation. There will be no more fluttering nerves when I look at him. No more stammered words when I try to speak around him. No more heat on my flesh when I remember his touch.
No more second guessing if I’m doing the right thing.
My confidence grows as I reach the mouth of the alley, but then another possibility comes to me. Instead of sneaking out to perform some violent act, he could be…visiting a lover.
The thought sends a wave of fire rising to my cheeks, but I breathe it away. I suppose finding him with a mistress wouldn’t exactly prove he deserves to die, but I could use it against him. There are a few contestants who would be livid to discover their desired beau is unchaste. It might even be enough to get them to quit the competition early…
I round the corner and head for Cygnus. The streets are about as busy as they get on Salvation Street after midnight, meaning far less populated than Halley, but vastly more active than the quiet inside the sleeping church. I scan the streets, seeking his retreating form somewhere on the sidewalk, and spot him. He’s on the corner across the street, but he isn’t retreating, stalking, or skulking about. He’s at the Lumies vendor.
I nearly stumble when I see him but force myself to keep walking and cross to the other side of Cygnus. There I pause next to the Church of Horticulture and glance back at the Lumies stand. Dorian accepts a paper bag, hands the vendor payment, and then takes off west down Cygnus. I let him take the lead before I start to follow from the other side of the street, watching as he pops a Lumie into his mouth. I assume that means he enjoyed my gift this morning.
He scarfs down two more Lumies in rapid succession, then disposes of the bag in a garbage bin outside the last church on Cygnus. There he turns the corner and heads north. The streets aren’t nearly as busy here, so I follow him at a greater distance to avoid being spotted. However, not once does he look behind him. Hands in his pockets, he strolls at a leisurely pace, seeming far more at ease than he did when he snuck through the garden. Soon the lights on Halley Street beckon just ahead and the sidewalks grow busier again. I quicken my pace to keep him in sight as he turns left on Halley. For a moment, he’s swallowed by a crowd of rowdy men hovering outside a tavern, but as I skirt around them, I find him on the other side, strolling away. The west end of Halley stands in stark contrast to the east where I stole my shell comb outside the opera house. Where east of Third hosts elite clientele, high-end theaters, and private clubs, west of First finds more taverns, vapor houses, and gambling dens than anywhere else in Lumenas. Not to mention brothels.
My stomach tightens as I revisit the possibility that Dorian has come here for the pleasures of the flesh.
Finally, his stride breaks, and he halts as if taken by surprise. I pause too and lean against the nearest wall, posture slouched like the drunkards stumbling down the sidewalk around me. Dorian, of course, doesn’t bother looking my way. His attention is fixated on the marquee outside the Emerald Comet Arena. He rubs his jaw as he reads the sign, something about Emmet versus Hastings to take place tomorrow evening…
Ah, a boxing match. Of course.
I study his face and find longing in his expression. He stares at the marquee a few seconds more before he takes off again. I follow too, my curiosity growing with every step. Finally, he turns toward a building and strolls right through the door.
I linger outside the establishment, studying the simple black sign above the door. Club Scorpius. I’ve never heard of such a club, but I catch strains of music coming from inside. Panic laces through me as I reach for the door, debating whether Club Scorpius might be someplace I’d be better off not entering. Despite the music, it could be a pleasure house. Or a private gentlemen’s club. Or…
A terrifying thought strikes me. This close to the Emerald Comet Arena, it could be a…a fighting den. Anillegalfighting den.
Hardening my resolve, I pull open the door and enter Club Scorpius.
25
Ipause just inside the door. Club Scorpius is neither a pleasure house nor an illegal boxing ring. I couldn’t be more underwhelmed. Not that the establishment is by any means plain, it’s just…I didn’t expect Dorian to come to a simple music hall. The club looks like little more than something you’d find on Orion Street, with its modest layout, lack of doorman, coatroom, and ushers. There’s just a stage, a dance floor, a bar, and a dining area with tables, chairs, and a few curtained booths. The lights are dim, creating a secretive ambiance, and the air is heavy with a pungent concoction of perfume, smoke, and alcohol.
A band plays an upbeat tune from the stage, the ensemble consisting of drums, piano, and three horns I don’t know the names of. At the center stands a fae female with short red hair, pointed ears, and a long green dress. She sways side to side, singing to the music in a trilling voice. It’s the type of song one only finds at a small music hall like this one, and the kind of music I like best.
Before I came to the city, I never cared much for music or dancing. I was never tempted to remove my sealskin and dance on the shore with my cousins, never felt any desire to learn their sultry moves. Then I came here and discovered there’s far more to music and dancing than I ever knew. While I still can’t stand opera or those slow, precise dances performed in the many ballrooms throughout Lumenas, I’ve gained an appreciation for the type of music I find now. And the dancing is exactly the kind I can tolerate. Here the moves are wild and chaotic. Some people dance alone, others with a partner. There are no reservations when it comes to touch, with some holding hands, others pressing the full length of their bodies against their companion’s.
I blush a little at the copious displays of the latter and remind myself why I’m here. Shifting my gaze away from the dance floor, I scan the club for signs of a tall form and dark wavy hair. Finally, I spot him settling onto a barstool. I walk into the dining area but don’t know what to do next. I followed him, I found him…and he’s ordering a drink. Not visiting his lover. Not seeking pleasure at a seedy brothel. Shells, he certainly isn’t betting on illegal fighting matches or beating up fae in alleyways. Maybe trying to dig up dirt on him was a mistake—
“Pearl!”
My heart leaps into my throat as Martin’s voice rings out from the far end of the bar. He’s leaning casually against the countertop, and when I meet his eyes, he nods with a wide smile. I whirl quickly around and head back the way I came, but before I can take more than three steps, Martin is before me.
“Pearl, hey, how are you?”
I press my lips into a weak grin and force myself not to glance over my shoulder at Dorian. Keeping my voice quiet, I rush to say, “I’m fine, thank you. I was just leaving actually—”
“How’s the…you know…the contest going?” There’s hesitation in his tone and something like hope. The look in his eyes brings back memories of our time together a few weeks back. Times I never let myself dwell on because I knew it could never be more.
For the first time since I’ve known him, freedom is within my grasp. Soon I won’t have to run anymore. Once I succeed in my mission, I’ll be free from my deadly magic. And I’ll finally have the chance to experience the one thing I’ve avoided since I discovered my power.
Love.
As I think it, the word sinks my stomach. At first, I think it’s guilt over what I must do. And that’s certainly there, a constant companion twisting my heart with every breath I take. But it’s also because I know love is not what I feel for Martin. Not even close. I doubt it’s what he feels for me either.
For a moment, I don’t know what to say to him. Partially because I can’t lie and I’m a little too flustered to weave deception right now. But also because what I say now could finally bring closure to our relationship.
