“We shouldn’t make a spectacle of ourselves,” Fairon says tightly, and I cross my arms. I may have to defer to the crown prince, but I’m the captain’s soldier before I’m anyone’s subject.
“If there’s any danger, you’ll need the extra security,” I say.
Fairon exchanges a look with the captain, and he nods.
“Good,” I say. “Now will anyone tell me where we’re going?”
It turns out Fairon’s theonlyperson who knows our destination. All he’ll tell us is that it’s something to do with the king, and that’s why Respen absolutely can’t hear about our trip.
We leave by the back gates, riding past the sanctuary we were all crowded in just yesterday. It feels like longer ago. How quickly we’ve all accepted that the captain is back and all is well again. I glance at Morgana, wondering if the ritual really did leave her untouched. Itlooksthat way…but looks can be deceiving.
We pull our hoods up as we leave the palace grounds behind, passing along backstreets toward the city’s northern neighborhoods. I keep checking we’re not being followed as the houses slowly get less impressive and the streets narrower, until we need to dismount.
Though we’ve borrowed inconspicuous horses from a city stable, some people still glance curiously at the group of cloaked travelers. But then I feel the buzz of magic in the air, and they look away, their attention pulled elsewhere. Fairon’s using his sensic magic—distraction—to draw their interest away from us.
Eventually, Fairon stops us in a street that’s clean and well-kept, but not noteworthy. The medium-sized houses are all painted in the bright colors of the city, and Fairon leads us to a mustard-colored one with a dark brown door.
I scan the street as the crown prince turns to us. An old woman leaves her house with a shopping basket, not sparing us a second glance. Other than that, it’s quiet and empty.
“I want you to just listen,” Fairon says, staring particularly hard at the captain. “And don’t talk too much, or you might scare her.”
The captain shrugs as Fairon knocks. There’s a pause, and then a woman answers, her brown eyes going wide as she sees Fairon standing there.
“Your Highness,” she mutters, bobbing a curtsey. I examine her for potential threat, but she looks utterly ordinary in her plain, rust-colored day dress. It’s nicely made, but far from the finery fae nobles wear.
And yet she doesn’t seem completely surprised to find the prince outside her door. She wasn’t expecting himtoday, that much I can tell. But she has met him before. Flustered and speechless, she ushers us into her home.
When we push back our hoods and she recognizes the captain, I think she might faint. There’s an unusual edge to her nervousness. She’s not just intimidated by the princes—she’s afraid of them. Even as she takes us into a small living room, pulling up chairs and offering us something to drink, she eyes us all like a sheep wondering which wolf will attack her first.
“No need for refreshments, thank you Ms. Frinach,” Fairon says, inclining his head as he settles into a deep-seated chair in a far corner. Morgana perches on a chair opposite, but naturally Alastor, the captain, and I stay standing.
“We won’t take up too much of your time,” the crown prince continues. “But I think you know what we’ve come here to discuss.”
“Please, Your Highness, I’d rather not speak of it again,” the woman says, twisting the fabric of her skirts in her fingers.
I don’t hear what Fairon says next because a prickle runs across my skin, raising my hairs on end. My pulse quickens, and my gut lurches. Call it soldier’s instinct, but I’m hit with the unmistakable knowledge that danger is nearby.
As Fairon tries to coax the woman into telling us whatever the gloam we came here to hear, I shift my weight, glancing around the room as casually as I can. I make sure to keep a bored expression on my face. I can see the street through the windows from here—it’s still empty—and the living room door is open, so I’d hear or see anyone in the hallway beyond. What am I missing?
I touch a finger beneath my collar, alerting the little scaled head nestled there. Barb’s already sensed my heartbeat speeding up; she knows what I’m looking for. Raising her head slightly above my collar, she flicks her tongue out, reading the air.
Sssseeven,she hisses.
Seven. There’s seven people in this room. Not six. Barb knows what my next question will be without me asking—she smells the threat, so where is it?
Ssss…the corner…behind the sssitting man…
The corner behind Fairon remains stubbornly empty tomyeyes, but I’ve had Barb for more than a decade, since she was a hatchling, and I trust her absolutely. She’s never once made a mistake when it comes to her sense of smell.
In one, swift motion, I draw my knife and fling it across the room.
Instead of clattering against the wall, it stops midair, catching on something soft. Red blooms on its tip, then it jerks and falls tothe floor, accompanied by a yelp of pain as a figure flickers into existence in the same spot.
The fae is slight, a male with a leather mask tied to his face and a raised dagger in his hand.
“Intruder!” I shout, though everyone by now can see the man as well as me. With a shrug of his bloody shoulder, he launches himself across the room, straight toward Ms. Frinach.
Chapter 7
