Page 96 of Stroke of Shadows

“He’s from Asherah. He’ll follow the rules,” she said, pinching some of the glitter residue left between her fingers.

The rules didn’t make him feel better. It just made them master manipulators. “They’re taking too long.”

Patience was something he excelled in unless it came to Harper.

“It’s only been a few minutes.” Thea thanked the pixie who’d dropped her drink off before taking a sip. It was pink, and smelt like it would melt his teeth. “So what’s the deal between you and Harper?”

Sythe raised a brow. “It’s none of your business.”

“Hey, I helped you, remember? The least you could do is answer my question.”

“Are you usually this annoying?” Sythe eyed her drink. He swore the water rippled despite the table being stable.

“No.” Her lips pursed. “I can get much, much worse.”

Sythe growled, scaring a couple of the child pixies who’d been spying on him since he’d sat down. They screeched, flying higher towards their houses. “It’s complicated. Now, if you get to ask questions, so do I. How can a Fae have metal in her face?”

“Easy.” Thea played with the delicate band in her septum. “They’re not made from metal.” She said it as if it were obvious. “My turn again.”

“This isn’t some—” He sensed Harper before he saw her. “How did it go?” he asked when she approached the table.

“I know what’s wrong,” she said, her tone exhausted. “Apparently, I’m a Drenic.”

“Oh, your chi was suppressed,” Thea said, as if it explained everything. “I’ve heard that happens with human, Fae children. Especially when the Fae half’s powerful.”

“Yes, I have to drink tea imported from Asherah regularly, and that should help stabilise my chi.” She said the last word with a frown, and Sythe drew her in for a hug.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said, more to himself than to her. He buried his nose into her hair, wanting to drown in her scent. Except she smelt sweeter than usual.

What’s with Fae shit smelling so sugary? he thought.

Harper immediately settled into his embrace, only pulling back when he did. Her eyes were red-lined, with shadows deepening beneath.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand.

Harper nodded, her shoulders sagging beneath her oversized coat. After giving her thanks to Thea, he pulled her through the wall and back onto the grizzly London street. It was reasonably busy, but no one turned to gawk, so he assumed there was some sort of glamour around the doorway.

His phone vibrated violently, a single continuous sound that had Harper’s eyes dropping to where he pulled it from his pocket.

“Wyatt?” she asked, her voice quiet.

He guessed there was a signal block in the Three-Headed Dog.

Where the fuck’s Harper?

You not answering your phone is really pissing me the fuck off, Sy. Call me back.

We’ve been given a deadline. Find Harper.

You don’t want to piss me off right now.

Sythe knew he should call him back and smooth it all over, but he found he couldn’t. Right then, he’d struggle to pretend, not with Harper standing there looking so exposed. She was his priority, not his job. Not Gideon or Bishop, and definitely not Wyatt.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, typing out a quick text.

I have the chalice. Will call later with the details.

He put the phone back away, returning his attention to her.

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