Hart disappeared that afternoon. I recited my uncle’s papers from memory, searching for new meaning, and counted the wood slats in the floor to pass the time.
Still, Hart didn’t return.
Ava had told us to stay hidden. She’d said it was dangerous in Kavios for both of us, but if Hart didn’t have to remain locked in this back room, maybe I didn’t, either. Of course, I knew he was still in the tavern; he wasn’t far enough away for our curse to cause discomfort. Annoyed, Icrossed to the door leading into the main room. With a light press, the door swung open a few inches, and sound poured in. The tavern was filled with patrons. This door opened near the private alcoves under the stairs, so few near it paid the fraction of an inch any attention. Still, the dull roar of joviality spiked my anxiety.
There were so many people.
I kept the door open just a crack and tried to catalog the space. The barstools were filled. The tables and chairs beyond had customers eating hearty meals and milling between groups. I swallowed as my gaze returned to the alcoves—the tell-tale orange glow emanated from almost all of them.
The color alone was enough to issue a retreat. I couldn’t think of taking lust, or of Hart’s instructions the last time we were here. He’d explained how a Blessed should stoke their partner’s lust continuously during the process, so even as the emotion was taken, more was built.
I shivered.
A nasally voice, one too entitled and familiar for my liking, interrupted my unproductive thoughts. “We need to talk somewhere private. I told the bartender I’d use this room.”
Vaddon Camm.
The king’s advisor had hair too slick to be clean, and a long, pointed nose that I’d rather not see from the position of him glaring down at me. His long strides brought him closer to the door I stood behind.
My pulse quickened. I needed to hide.
A hand gripped mine and pulled before I could turn to search the room. Panic left me as quickly as it flooded me, because the heat of his touch left no question of the owner’s identity.
“Don’t fight me, Chaos. We have to go.”
The door out of which I’d peered opened before Hart got us through the side entrance. If we left now, Vaddon would see.Hart must have drawn the same conclusion. He didn’t release my hand as he tugged me under the banquet table that lined the side of the room. A large black cloth draped over it. It would shelter us from view so long as Vaddon didn’t lift it to search.
We didn’t have time to be precious about it. Hart slid under on hands and knees, yanking me with him. I followed so quickly that I landed across his chest. With rapid movements, he tugged my legs beneath the cloth, and as I silently righted myself, I found myself astride Hart’s supine form.
“Fucking Chaos,” he whispered as I pushed to move off him.
We both froze, his hands on my hips holding me in place, as Vaddon spoke. “Go on. I don’t have all day.”
I hadn’t seen who entered the room with the advisor. I hadn’t needed to see more than Vaddon to know I had to run. But in this moment, I agreed with Hart’s desire for stillness. Any chance of sound from movement was too great a risk. Fear prickled my spine. If Vaddon found us, Hart could wield my fear with ease.
“It’s not as if the text you request is easily available, sir.” The man’s voice was meek, nervous. I couldn’t imagine he wanted to be in this room with one of the most powerful Blessed in Kavios.
“Do I look like I care, Weston? Get me the book, or get out of the city. Those are your options.”
I heard the second man’s choked swallow even from our position beneath the table. My own silent swallow followed, and I glanced down to meet Hart’s steady gaze. His brow furrowed at the conversation, but his green eyes focused solely on me. His hands hadn’t left my hips, holding me in place above him, and I found the reassurance of his grip comforting.
“I’ve searched the jeweler’s workshop. I even searched the queen’s study?—”
Hart flinched at the mention of the queen, but the man continued.
“I’m not sure it’s here.”
Vaddon’s voice was quieter. I found myself leaning forward to hear it, but that was ridiculous; it only meant I leaned closer to Hart’s mouth.
“Are you calling the goddess a liar?”
Mumbled excuses fell from Weston’s lips like rain from the sky. Vaddon cut him off. “Good. Now that we agree it’s here. I need you to find it. Alaric wouldn’t have had it. This book is for those who worship Order, something we know the jeweler never did.”
“What about the teashop in Woodside?” Weston asked.
“That heathen doesn’t worship Themis either.” He snapped his fingers as if an idea came to him. “But I’ve heard he hides books he thinks favor order. He can’t bring himself to destroy them. I can issue a raid if you can’t search it discreetly.”
Hart’s breath on my neck calmed me as the horrifying conversation unfolded just beyond our covered hiding spot. I’d hate myself later, but I leaned further into it. What I’d always loved about Hart was that he needed little explanation. He justknew. He knew what I needed now. His fingers regripped my hips and put just enough weight on his pointer and middle fingers to guide me closer to him.
