“And we don’t have the funds on hand to pay them,” Roderick grumbled. “Not without the sales from the pixie dust that got stolen.”
I followed Peter into the house and shut the door behind me. “There are at least seven guards on the outside patrolling at all times, and we’re guessing more than twelve inside.”
Roderick let out several oaths.
Lochlan looked up from his knitting, but his needles still flashed and clicked. “You used to buy and sell there all the time,” he told Roderick. “Don’t you still have some contacts you can ask to get us in?”
“Not any that are still alive or operating after all these years. The Nightsworn killed several and imprisoned the rest. They have new leadership now, and they don’t particularly like me.”
Peter threw an apple into the air and caught it again. “Why not? You’re so charming and likeable.”
Roderick let out an amused snort. “At least someone appreciates me. Now we just need a way to get inside.”
“I think we should sell Gil,” Peter suggested.
“What?!” Lochlan’s head snapped up.
“That’s a good idea,” Roderick said, nodding appreciatively. “Sell Gil and let him get some inside information while we collect a payout for him, then we have someone else buy him back and Gil can tell us what we need to know about the pixie blood inside the warehouse.”
“No.” Lochlan’s voice was firm. “He’s too young.”
“He’ll never actually be a slave. Calm down. I told you, we’ll buy him back.”
Peter threw the apple at Lochlan. “Come on, lighten up. It’s a good idea and you know it.”
Lochlan swatted the apple away so it rolled across the floor. “We aren’t going to sell him,” he said angrily. “It’s too dangerous.”
“It would be too dangerous for me or Peter,” Roderick answered. “They’d never buy that story. But no one knows Gil.”
Lochlan held his chin high. “Sell me instead.”
We all whipped our heads around to stare at him. His jaw was locked and a vein bulged on the side of his neck.
“Why?” Suspicion laced Roderick’s voice.
Lochlan snorted in derision and I couldn’t help but think it was exactly the same sort of sound his father made when he was annoyed. “Because I don’t trust some young whelp who doesn’t even have his whiskers in yet, no matter how much he pretends, that’s why. Gil is what, twelve?”
“I’m fourteen now! I had my birthday,” I protested, trying valiantly to ignore how my chest was suddenly burning. Lochlan was trying to protect me. It felt flattering but also smothering at the same time. “And my whiskers are coming. If you look really close?—”
“He’s too unpredictable, and I don’t trust the memory of any young boy. We have too much riding on this to place it into his hands.” Lochlan crossed his arms and glared like he was about to set Roderick on fire with his gaze but didn’t look at me evenonce. “If you want a pair of inside eyes, I’ll handle it. Leave Gil out of it.”
“I’ll do it,” I offered. “I’m not scared.”
“Absolutely not!” Lochlan roared, sounding much more like his father than his usual self. “There are the Nightsworn and bounty hunters and a thousand other people who would…” His voice caught and he cleared his throat. “I won’t do that to him.”
“Shoals, calm down,” Peter said. “We’d get him out and it’s not like we could try to sell me or Roderick. We have wanted posters up for us all over. We need someone that no one will recognize.”
“I can do it,” I repeated.
“I don’t want you to do it,” Lochlan huffed.
“But it isn’t up to you,” Roderick snapped. “We’ll sell Gil in the morning, and you’ll be the one to do it.”
Lochlan snatched up his fallen knitting and threw it into the basket and stomped across the room. “I’m going for a walk,” he muttered in an unnaturally harsh tone.
“I’ll come with you,” I piped up, following after him.
“What’s eating him?” Roderick said as the door closed.
