Page 67 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

Noticing my struggle, Asheros lowers his shadows just enough to clear my vision.

I give his shoulder a light squeeze, silently conveying my thanks. With my sight unobscured, the familiar sprawl I see before me rings true with my memory. The river splits the city in half, continuing all the way to Esvelon’s furthermost boundary, where it flows out into the sea.

On each side, following the river, are narrow cobblestone streets sprinkled with pale sand connected by stone bridges at roughly even intervals. People bustle to and from shops, wearing modestly colored clothes while carrying baskets of weaved cloth, knitted garments, or painted pottery.

The buildings—faded blue-gray colors, the paint worn from the salty winds—are only about two stories high with sloped roofs. White, wooden shutters frame the second story windows, some of which have people, humans and fae alike, peering out from within them.

We continue deeper into the heart of Esvelon, the cerulean waters visible along the outskirts of the city. Horses pulling wagons pass by us in either direction, likely merchants headed for the market. Despite being small in size, the city’s lively port sits in the distance. Vessels compact enough to pass through the strait that shields Esvelon’s secluded cove from ocean storms, wait at the docks.

“Any idea where to find Arella?” Asheros asks, scanning our surroundings.

“No.” I sigh. I should have asked Viridian more questions about the sole witness to Vorr’s murder. Coming here blind wasn’t my smartest move.

“That’s all right,” Asheros assures me. “I have an idea.”

I arch a brow. “An idea?”

Beckoning to the others with two fingers, he veers us off to the side of the road in front of what looks to be a pottery shop. We gather outside the building, huddled into a semi-circle that faces the wall.

Asheros’s shadows retreat, allowing me to see the others clearly.

He begins to explain his idea, and Ronan and Orim immediately sport shit-eating grins.

I listen to his ludicrous plan, my curiosity morphing to astonishment with each word spoken.

This is his plan? Truly?

When he finishes, Asheros shrugs. “You’d be surprised how much information people are willing to part with when given the opportunity.”

He can’t be serious. In my time as Captain of the High King’s Guard, information was never obtained that easily. It took planning and patience. Not… whatever kind of theatrics this is.

Blinking at him with disbelief, I cross my arms. “You mean to tell me you’re just going to walk up to people and ask?”

He glances back at me, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Watch and learn, Bladesinger.”

“You must be joking.” When none of them respond, I turn to Savell, Kheldryn, and Gryska for support. “They’re joking, aren’t they?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Kheldryn tells me, an exhausted look setting into her brow. “You weren’t here the last time they did this.”

“The last time?” I echo, my voice growing firm.

“I know it’s ridiculous,” Savell says, shaking his head with defeat, “but it’s surprisingly effective.”

“Of course it is,” Asheros cuts in, confidence brimming in his expression. “Orim’s a brilliant actor.”

Ronan gestures to Orim’s head and grabs his face, smushing the other male’s cheeks. “And who can say no to that face?”

Orim merely shrugs, a little too innocently. “It’s a gift.”

“Let’s go through this again to make sure I’m understanding this plan of yours.” I cross my arms. “The three of you are going to wander the streets and pretend to be Arella’s long-lost cousins who have suddenly decided to pay her a visit?”

Ronan nods, a whole-body motion rich with enthusiasm. “Right.”

“Yet her so-called cousins have no idea where she lives,” I say. Without intending to, my voice rises several octaves.

“That’s why we’re long-lost cousins,” Orim explains. “We’ve lost touch, so it makes sense that we don’t know where she lives now.”

“That’s…” Inhaling deeply, I rub my forehead.

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