“Yes,” Séraphine cut in smoothly, voice rich with satisfaction. “An’ it is truly fascinating.”
Rion stepped closer to Séraphine, his tone shifting to something smoother—almost dangerous in its charm. “Really? I think I’d like to see it.”
Her smile curved knowingly, a predator humored by the prey. “In the back.”
“Lead the way,” he said, offering a roguish grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Rion leaned in close to Séraphine, his smile all silver edges and easy charm. He said something low, something only she could hear, and she laughed—head thrown back, jeweled throat shimmering in the lamplight. The room shifted around them, her focus caught entirely in his orbit.
That was when she placed it on the counter. The Eye. Not forgotten. Left.
She chuckled low, clearly enjoying the attention, and turned toward a beaded curtain at the rear of the room. The strands clinked softly as she pushed through, candlelight catching in her hair. Rion followed like a shadow, keeping his voice low and teasing—every word meant to coil around her focus.
Rion met my eyes for a heartbeat longer than necessary—long enough for something unspoken to pass between us—then tipped his head toward the counter.
The instant her back was turned, the world narrowed to the counter. My pulse hammered so hard I thought it might shake the shelves.
I moved without thinking, fingers brushing cool glass, the weight of it a shiver in my palm.
Why would Séraphine be so careless with it if it was truly so special? My stomach knotted. Either she didn’t know what she held—or she did, and this was some cruel test.
Without a sound, I tucked it away and slipped toward the door. The city’s cool air hit me like a wave as I stepped outside, swallowing the scent of myrrh and roses with the taste of freedom.
It was almost dusk, the sky bruising into twilight. I needed to get back to the ship before the streets turned dangerous.
My thoughts snagged on Rion—this mysterious man who’d bought me food and helped me get the Eye, the one thing I so desperately needed. Now I might never see him again. Never get the chance to thank him. Never know his true intentions.
I hurried through Shadeau’s winding streets, weaving between market stalls and shadowed alleys. Alaric would wake any moment now and realize I’d left—after making it clear he wouldn’t approve of me putting myself in harm’s way… again. And soon, Séraphine would realize what had happened—and who knew what she might send after me.
I reached the edge of the forest that stretched between the city and the docks. Through the thinning trees, I could see the Black Marrow waiting, lanterns blooming to life along her rigging as the crew prepared for nightfall.
Relief swelled in my chest—until the hair on the back of my neck rose. I wasn’t alone.
Four of them emerged from the shadows—creatures I had no name for. Their eyes burned crimson, locking onto me with a predator’s hunger. Patchy fur clung to bodies half-rotted, ribs and sinew exposed like something that had clawed its way out of the grave. Their muzzles dripped black saliva, teeth jagged and too long, glistening in the fading light. The air around them shimmered with heat and shadow.
I didn’t know if they were Séraphine’s doing… or simply the kind of horrors that roamed Shadeau.
I was so close to the Black Marrow—but there was no way I could outrun them. I’d gotten better with my legs, but these creatures had four—and there were four of them. Sixteen legs to my two.
Fear settled in my stomach as the last threads of sunlight bled out of the sky.
My options were slim: fight them off—four of them—with a single dagger and mediocre battle skills… or try to outsmart them. Either way, it felt like it ended with my blood soaking into the forest floor.
They began to fan out, slow and deliberate, their low growls vibrating through the ground beneath my feet. My mind raced. I needed a distraction—something to pull them off me long enough to slip past.
Then I remembered: the body of the vendor Alaric had killed earlier would still be lying on the path just ahead. There weren’t exactly clean-up crews for that kind of thing here. If I could reach it, maybe the scent of blood and death would distract them.
I’d have to move fast—keep their focus on me long enough to lead them to it—then break away before they decided I looked like the fresher meal.
I forced my legs to move, slow at first—keeping their attention locked on me—before I broke into a sudden sprint toward the body. Their snarls deepened, claws tearing at the earth as they gave chase.
The metallic tang of blood grew stronger with each step until the crumpled form came into view. I skidded to the side at the last second, tossing a loose stone so it struck the corpse with a sickening thud. The head lolled, spilling a fresh trickle of blood onto the dirt.
The pack faltered, the scent hitting them like a whip crack. One lunged for me, but the others turned toward the body, snarling and snapping at each other in a frenzy. I used that heartbeat of chaos to dart for the tree line, lungs burning, praying the distraction would hold long enough for me to reach the Black Marrow.
It didn’t.
The frenzied snarls cut off, replaced by the thunder of claws closing in behind me. I risked a glance over my shoulder—they were on me, eyes blazing.
