“What are you doing?” Zayde hissed from beside me.
The glare Layla sent me could’ve impaled me to the wall. Leaning around him, she sneered, keeping her voice low. “If you don’t stop acting like an ass, you won’t have to worry about my sister pulling her blade. I’ll gut you myself.”
“I probably deserve it,” I said.
That stole the energy from her anger. Her gaze sought Zayde’s.
“She loves you,” Zayde said softly. “I understand that you don’t remember her, that you don’t yet feel the same, but if you can find even a shred of kindness in your heart for her, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’m not being mean to her.” My hands splayed wide, and I met his gaze with my own steel. “I’m doing all I can. It hasn’t been long.”
“Don’t call her storm.”
“Why?”
“Because . . .” He scowled. “Just don’t.”
“Alright.”
Airia studied me with flinty eyes from across the table. I could swear she muttered something, though I couldn’t hear the words. Then her attention shot to Tempest before flickering away.
Marla came over to our table as we were finishing. “Will you be staying another night, my lords and ladies?” she asked, her gaze caressing Brodine.
“No, we’re leaving today,” I said.
“Very well.” She moved to the next table where the man well into his ale slouched across the surface. Her knee nudged his thigh. “Get a move on, Prager. If I know you, you don’t have the coins to pay for what you drank.”
Prager, huh? A common enough name, but . . .
Tempest’s gaze shot their way.
The man rose and grunted, staring around with bleary eyes before stumbling across the room and out the door.
“I’ll meet you all at the meadow.” Tempest rose quickly. “I need to . . .”
Go to the bathing area?
She bolted up the stairs with the crow fluttering his wings on her shoulder.
22
TEMPEST
Ididn’t have much time, but Madrood had told me to speak with Prager, and I would do so. At the top of the stairs, I rushed into our room and lifted the window. I eased my leg out, perching the toe of my boot on the narrow ledge. A metal staircase spiraled down on my right. All I had to do was cross the sparse ledge a few feet to reach it.
Easy.
I reevaluated that assumption as I clung to the window frame with one hand while stretching out the other to grasp the metal staircase handrail.
Disgusted with my antics, Drask flapped his wings, smacking my face.
“Not helping, little guy,” I huffed, stretching my arm out. Stretching . . . “Yes.” I latched onto the metal and hurtled my body in that direction. The tips of my boots landed on the outside edge of the tread, and I hauled myself up over the railing.Panting, I knelt on a metal surface, giving my poor leg a chance to recover.
Drask settled his wings as I wound my way down to the ground. I hurried to the head of the alley and shoved hair out of my eyes while peering around.
There. Prager reeled down the road, heading in the opposite direction, and because his drunken lurch barely covered any ground, it wasn’t hard to catch up to him. I followed, grimacing at the stains coating the back of his pants and ragged tunic, pinching my nose against the odor drifting off his body.
At the intersection, he turned right and headed down a narrow path winding between two-story, stone buildings. When he reached the end, he dug through a trash bin, and with a gasp of joy, hefted a wine bottle. Surely there wasn’t much left.
