Eleos leaned against my arm and whispered in my ear. “You have to open your mind, too.”
My nose wrinkled in concentration as I let my own walls fall—only enough to seek the pair’s words, not to hear the whole world as I had earlier.
The exact words circling in their skulls eluded me, but I gleaned their emotions.
Excitement shivered in the young man’s bones. He bounced on his feet, both eager for what came next and terrified of it. Rage bristled in his heart, red and hot.
The older man was quieter, muted. Wariness held him in its shroud, and he did not trust the young man, not entirely. His eyes darted about. Worried. Always so worried.
But convicted. Whatever frightened him, he would not flee in the face of it.
The young man said farewell to the man and walked away, leaving his package behind. He caught my eye and winked.
Seth glared at him until his ratty cloak disappeared out the door.
“Stop scowling,” Eleos said. He turned to me. “Did you hear?”
“No. Just emotions.”
“That’s normal, when you’re still a novice.” He smirked at Seth. “That was one of your cousin’s.”
One of Cerys’—an insurgent.
“Oh.” Seth relaxed. “So that’s why he was acting shifty.” Clearing his throat, Seth offered me a hand. “The bard’s playing a good song. Would you like to dance, princess?”
I wanted to say yes. My mouth opened, trying to form the word, and my hand brushed his.
Seth tried to take my hand, but I yanked it free.
Lifting my mug, I drained the last of my ale and slammed it down on the table. Smoothing my skirt, I stood. “I’d rather sleep. But you and Eleos should dance.”
“Frankly.” Eleos returned to his journal. “I’d rather die.”
“So would I.” Seth’s eyes flicked back to the stick, but I caught a hint of his feelings.
He swallowed tightly, hiding the hurt my words had caused him.
Squeezing Eleos’ shoulder, I slipped through the back door and passed through the back room. Seraphim stood outside, sharpening her knife by the channel beneath the evening sky.
“Oh,” I exclaimed, hurrying to her side and kneeling. A small white lily bloomed from the cracks in the road.
“Find a good one?” Seraphim asked. Her whetstone rang across her dagger, reflecting the foggy look in her eye.
“Mhm.” I tilted my head. “Did I come at a bad time?”
“No.” Seraphim scraped the whetstone again. “I’m just thinking. About Phaedrus. My parents. Themis.” She blinked a few times. “My time here.”
“I . . .” Twirling the flower between my fingers, I stepped closer. “I think we might be able to win Phaedrus back. But, I suppose you’d know best if I’m being a fool or not.”
Seraphim sharpened her blade one last time and sheathed it. She turned to me with bright blue eyes. “Because of Eleos? Yes. I had the same thought.” She gazed at her reflection in the water and tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. “My brother and I were always thick as thieves. And the bastard has the same dry humor he always did. It’s hard to separate the truth from memories.”
“I felt that way about Ainwir, once. But I learned my fond memories were still the truth.”
Seraphim smiled. Plucking the flower from my hand, shetucked it behind my ear. “Go get some rest. You’ve been through a lot, recently.”
“I sure have,” I agreed, leaving her to her thoughts.
I brushed the flower with my fingers, remembering the nights I had returned from work and searched for blooms in the slums.
