“Greenwood tales seemed to be more metaphorical than most, but I do believe…” Harold’s lips pinch. He thinks for a moment before reciting in an exaggerated thespian accent, “‘In the heat of the sea, the ocean claimed its victim with savage abandon, before the sun burned the corpses whole. And thus Abysses vanished, lost to our world and the next. We mourn! We mourn! We… die.’” He pretends to fall to the floor.
“Oh, brilliant performance, my sweet!” Gerald applauds with eager enthusiasm.
Harold flushes, but he stands and bows regardless. “Thank you,my pet.” To Arion, he adds, “I used to partake in a theater troupe. I was the lead seven years running.”
Arion attempts to smile again, but it’s more grimace than anything as his rough voice manifests in my head, scraping against my skull.“‘The heat of the sea.’ The sun. Sounds like it’s either referring to the climate of the Sol or the centermost point of our world. What do you think? Or are you determined to be completely useless throughout this entire journey?”
I glare at him.
“You can think back to me. I’ll hear you. Just search for the silver cord in your mind and follow it to me.”
“Like… this?” I think nervously, allowing Gerald to slip my feet into a pair of silk slippers.
“Yes,” Arion thinks back.
“Great. Fuck you.”I bare my teeth in a murderous grin.“He has to be talking about the Sol. Its waters are shallow. The Syl can be warm in certain depths, but most of the waters are too deep to properly capture the heat of the sun.”And I’m not going back to the fucking Syl if my life depends on it.“Of course, itisa random story that a man in a random shoppe just randomly performed for us, so probably not something on which to stake our futures.”
It’s his turn to glare this time.
“We can cross-reference this with what we find in the Illuminated Library.”He steps away from Harold, who has finally finished grooming him.“Do you know how long it will take us to trek—”
I cut him off before he can finish the question.“It’s through the apple orchard. Maybe a ten-minute walk from the market.”
“And we only need to keep our intentions pure?”
“Yep. Empty heads and happy thoughts, warlock. Or should I call you ‘guppy’ from now on?”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“Oh, birdman, I know I am.”
His lip curls grudgingly at that, and it almost looks like a smile. Arealsmile—a true one—for just the briefest of seconds. And it’s so shocking, I almost fall over. Harold, however, actuallydoesfall over. His hand flies to his heart and he careens to the floor with a shriek.Scrambling backward, he kicks away from Arion as if the warlock is suddenly holding a knife. Blinking rapidly, my gaze falls to his hand to ensure he isn’t, but—no. He holds no weapon at all, magical or otherwise, unless I count that smile.
Gerald still rushes to his husband’s side, crouching low. “My sweet? My sweet, what’s wrong?”
“I—I’m sorry.” Harold blinks rapidly at Arion. “I thought… for a moment, it appeared as if—as if something wasgrowingfrom your back.”
Shit. Our disguises.
Arion stiffens. His jaw clenches. I hold my breath.
Blinking in confusion, Gerald glances at the warlock, but unlike his partner, he doesn’t fall; he doesn’t scream. Instead, his brows contract as he studies Arion, which is hopefully a good sign. Then—“My sweet, I do think you’ve been smoking too much mugwort. I don’t see a thing.”
The bond hums with relief as I relax, ever so slightly. Not Arion, however. He remains standing there as if carved from stone, his entire body rigid. Disciplined. And something more than relief travels through the bond as realization descends. He must’ve—lost control of the enchantment somehow, and even though he regained it quickly, even though his face remains hard and impassive, shame still tinges the bond.
I frown at that, but before I can speak, Arion is already moving, helping Harold to a chartreuse settee to cover for his mistake. To protect us from being caught.
Gerald, indeed, appreciates the effort. He grins when Arion offers him a hand next, helping the shopkeeper to his feet. “Thank you,” Arion says tersely. “For the clothing and your aid.”
Gerald beams even wider, and any doubt he might’ve harbored toward Arion vanishes in an instant. “Polite and handsome. Stunning combination.” He turns to me. “I thought the last boy you brought here was charming, but your dear husband might prove to be even better.”
I blink at him, my smile becoming fixed.
The last boy.
The… last…
boy.
