“Hmm?” I ask distractedly as I struggle to look around my mammoth-sized friend.
She’s got the dagger against the man’s throat. Her jade-green eyes are full of fury.
A dark chuckle escapes me; this snake is deadly.
Baltas looks over his shoulder, then back at me. “I said it looks like you’re leaving. Am I late?”
“Oh. No. Have a seat. Let’s order another round,” I say as I lower myself back into the chair, satisfied knowing the healer can fend for herself.
I don’t love the way she gives in to the soldier, nor do I relish the fact that she has another drink. My stupid fucking baser instinct is to protect her, but it would be nice if she’d make it just a hair easier by staying sober and keeping her wits about her.
Before Baltas returns with our drinks, the booming tenor of his voice reaches me, and I just know the loud crashing sound has something to do with him.
Heading toward the commotion, I slink back when I realize the healer has come to aid the young fae who was clearly collateral damage.
Fascination and awe engulf me as she heals the small wound. That’s more magic than many in this land can wield.
I wonder if she knows exactly how special she is.
“We ought to go.” Baltas’ eyes are wide but full of mischief as he all but runs past me to the door.
I try to give him a look of disapproval, but fail to compose myself. “What did you do?”
He throws me a wink over his shoulder as he pushes into the street.
A quick look tells me there are some angry soldiers patrolling the tavern, undoubtedly looking for Baltas.
When I stumble out the door, Baltas grabs me by the neck and pulls me into an alley. When his hand covers my mouth, I freeze. He’s the only person alive who can get away with covering my mouth, but it still surprises me when he does it. I struggle against him a little, until he hisses quietly in my ear, “Shut your stupid mouth!”
The tavern door creaks open. I hold my breath, expecting the soldiers to find us in an instant. A cough scratches at the back of my throat, and I swallow to fight it off.
Instead, soft footsteps and a familiar feminine shadow pass by.
Baltas releases me, and I make a show of wiping myself off.
“For a princeling, you are fairly terrible at self-preservation. Had I been an enemy, your head would be separated from your body in an instant,” he scolds me.
I glare at him. “You’re one to talk! Pissing off the soldiers when they outnumbered us by so much.”
Peeking down the cobblestone street, I catch a glimpse of the healer as she heads out of town. I know that I shouldn’t, but I’m dying to follow her.
“Sorry to ruin your evening, but they were running their damned mouths, and I couldn’t help myself,” Baltas says. “Shall we head back for the Underground?”
My conscience is battling between ending the night and tracking the healer, and my baser instincts win.
“You go ahead. I’ll meet you there in a little while.”
Baltas gives me a knowing grin, and disappears into the shadows. Maybe he’s more aware of my motivations than I give him credit for.
The stagnant air of this kingdom is dense and suffocating. I don’t know how these people live in this shit. It reminds me of the smoke from the forest fires they sometimes have in Clestraya. Except here there’s nothing to douse it out. The toxins are unending.
I take every precaution to keep whatever tiny particles of the dark magic out of my system I can, even going so far as to cover my mouth and nose with a piece of fabric I tie around my neck to keep from breathing in the Smog.
I trail her over the bridge and wonder what has her so distracted that she hasn’t noticed she’s being watched. Or maybe she knows but is addicted to the thrill of her own fear.
Crunch.
Shit.
