She rose, lifting her chin.Be brave, Calliope.“Let’s go.”
The man on the right stepped forward and seized her arm, rough fingers clamping around her elbow. His grip was iron, and she had to force herself not to resist, not to fight. She glanced back as they escorted her out. Prince stood in the middle of the shop, ears pricked,body rigid. She pressed her lips together, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Her gaze darted to the empty shop next door.
Afternoon shadows stretched long, and for a wild moment she imagined Maxen striding from one of them, dark coat flaring, eyes blazing, come to sweep her out of these men’s clutches. But the lane was empty save for three horses.
She thought of her promise.
Maxen wouldn’t believe she’d abandon him, would he? Not with Prince still here. Knowing him, he would suspect something amiss. The man’s senses were sharper than a hawk’s. She would bide her time, keep her wits, and pray her beast discovered her absence quickly.
Rough hands lifted her onto a horse. She shot a glare at the man swinging into the saddle behind her, but he didn’t so much as spare her a glance.
The leader of the three tossed a cloak at her. “Cover yourself.”
She dragged the coarse thing over her shoulders and head, stealing one last look at her shop. Her heart plummeted.
No! Prince!
These villains hadn’t even shut the door.
Horror numbed her as Prince padded out, those loyal eyes fixed on her. The man spurred the horse into a trot, and she swallowed her protest in fear that they might go back on their word and kill Prince.
Pure hopelessness enveloped her.
Bad people, it seemed, had a way of finding her, no matter how fiercely she tried to avoid it. And danger, it seemed, was an ever-present shadow, no matter how meticulously she safeguarded herself.
*
Maxen stood inthe middle of Calliope’s lodgings, clenching and unclenching his fists.
She was gone.
So was her hound.
Other than that, nothing had changed much since the last time he’d been here. She hadn’t cleared all her belongings. Hadn’t cleared her candles or the stock at the back. It was as if she’d left in a hurry like the last time she’d tricked his brother. The door had not even been locked. It was so bloody similar he wanted to punch a hole in the wall. But instead of his brother being duped, this time it had been him.
She’d left.
Again.
She’d promised . . .
And? Who are you to have asked that of her in the first place?
He was nobody.
Just some beast.
Maxen cursed.
He hadn’t inherited his place in the world. Every scrap of authority had been purchased with cracked bones. Whatever authority he possessed did not extend to her. He had no right to her at all. Except the rent of her shop. And he wanted all the rights. That made him greedy. impatient, and impulsive. All the things that got men like him killed.
His gaze swept the room once more, inventorying what was there and everything that wasn’t. Had she thought him comical when she’d said yes, she promised to tell him before she ever left? Had she smiled into the dark and let him have his pretty fancy because it cost her nothing in that moment? Or had she regretted it the instant light returned, when she saw him as he was in daylight—too large, too rough, too much of the wrong world?
Don’t bloody spiral, you fool.
Too bloody late, he returned to himself.
