Aldric escorts Amara over to Skylar’s side, beaming at the people watching. He’s chosen to be a redhead today with jet-blue eyes. He holds up one of each of their hands. “I give you, Blade and Dancer!”
Skylar notices that behind her blond hair, one of Amara’s ears is bleeding, clearly sliced. Oops.
But still, Amara curtsies, a beautiful smile on her heart-shaped face. Skylar doesn’t bother, still scanning for Cam. She sees Izzo, prowling through the crowd unnoticed, her hand occasionally moving into a pocket or a loosely hanging bag, while the unsuspecting audience drops coins into the collection tub in front of them. Above them, stone dragon perches loom, but everyone here must be used to the sight of them—not one person glances up. Skylar supposes it’s probably a different matter entirely when the dragons are actually using them.
As the crowd dissipates, quick to get bored now the performance is over, Amara glares at Skylar. “You deliberately nicked me.”
Skylar scoffs. “I did not. Thought they’d like to get a sense of the stakes, that’s all.” Not true, but she doubts Amara would appreciate her admitting her concentration hasn’t been on point—she’s the one who gets daggers thrown at her.
“If you do that again, Skylar, I swear to Arach—”
Skylar rolls her eyes. “Pray to the dragon god all you like—he doesn’t give two shits about anyone but the royals.”
Izzo weaves her way toward them, still unnoticed by anyone—even the two city guards who stopped to watch the performance earlier. Izzo knows how to be stealthy, Skylar will give her that. And from her self-satisfied smile, it’s a good haul today.
“You only think that because you’re going to Vaar when you die,” Amara mutters.
“I heard that,” Skylar says—but she doesn’t really care what Amara thinks. She’d like to see her—see any of them—do what she can do.
“Oh, are you a Sensor now?” Amara asks scathingly.
Skylar ignores her, pulling the pin out of her hair, then twisting the knot back into place as Aldric jerks his chin to the lot of them. Skylar sees the illusion he’s holding over Amara fade, her blond hair becoming duller, skin paler. Izzo’s hair is back to being short and dark, and the tattoo down the left side of her face is once again on show. Aldric always hides that tattoo, says it makes her too noticeable. So that means Skylar will be back to her usual bronze-haired, amber-eyed self, too, then.
Aldric keeps the illusion around himself as they head off the main street, back toward their temporary camp on the outskirts of the city. He always uses his power on them for the performance but finds it too hard to maintain for much longer—not that he’d ever admit to that. He’s an Illusionist, arguably one of the more coveted Blooded orders, but he’s clearly a grade two—as much as he might try to pretend he’s a three.
Torin skulks behind Aldric as they walk. He’s packing enough muscle that most people skirt out their way, put off by his sheer presence—and he’s not even a Physick, his strength purely natural. Skylar wonders just how many Blooded are hiding in the Stone City—she’s only encountered a handful in the last few years. Torin eyes up a woman who gets too close to Aldric and she scurries backward, nearly falling over herself. Torin’s mouth stretches into a cruel grin. Skylar knows he’d just love an excuse to break someone’s nose—or worse.
Izzo sidles up beside Skylar as they meander along so as not to call attention to themselves. It’s not that they’re doing anything wrong—well, the performing part, not the stealing part. But there’s always a chance some guard or other takes issue with the way they’re living, and given they only make half what they earn through the actual performance, it’s best to keep a low profile.
“Good show,” Izzo says.
Skylar shrugs. It’s the same thing over and over, not particularly good or bad. They turn left, down one of the side alleys, Skylar’s leather boots slapping against the orange stone. You can tell they’re heading to the poorer part of the city—the buzz of magic, running through overground lines, is quieter here. Fewer people can afford to pay for Vitalas to cool or light their homes out this way, Skylar suspects. Not that she’s ever needed that sort of magic—no use for it, when you’re moving from place to place every few months.
Izzo is watching her out of dark eyes.
Skylar raises her eyebrows. “Yes?”
“Cam still didn’t show.” It’s a statement, not a question, so Skylar doesn’t answer. “It doesn’t mean—”
“Of course it does,” she snaps. She takes a breath, inhales the taste of sulfur. She wonders if it’s the dragons that cause that smell—she’s never known anything like it, and the Stone City is the nearest point to Isla Draka, where all the dragons, save the three that belong to the royals, reside. The stench doesn’t help the coiling in her gut or the way her blood heats, making her want to act.
They all had the same reaction this morning, when they headed out and saw that Cam still wasn’t in his tent, having never come home last night. They’d told her not to worry, that he’d probably just partied too hard. Well, Izzo had told her that. Amara told her he’d probably found someone to run off with, leaving her behind, and Torin had said nothing at all. Because none of them give a shit.
“You coming over later?” Izzo asks, curling a strand of her short black hair around her ear.
“My best friend is missing—so I’m not in the mood, but thanks.” Izzo narrows her eyes, and although she doesn’t say anything, Skylar feels the tiniest surge of guilt. She likes Izzo—as much as she likes anyone she sleeps with, at least. But right now, all she can think of is Cam.
It’s as they’re walking down the final alley, toward the abandoned lot they’re calling home for now, that Skylar sees it. Stuck on a crumbling stone pillar that may once have been a dragon perch, a poster flutters in the smallest of breezes. She saw a poster like this when they arrived here a couple of weeks ago and didn’t think anything of it, but now…
She snatches it off the pillar, staring down at it. She feels a pounding in her head as the writing blurs in front of her eyes.
Breathe, Lar.
It’s Cam’s voice, only it’s not reallyhis, only an echo.
“Skylar?” Izzo is waiting for her. “What are you—?”
Skylar doesn’t know what, exactly, is showing on her face—but it’s enough to cut Izzo off. Izzo glances down at the poster in Skylar’s hand. “We still don’t know anything for sure,” she says, her voice low.
