Page 76 of The Last Heir of Elsewhere

It had been nearly a week already, and my greatest fear was that Lonnie would arrive in the harbor before we did. If she disappeared into the lands of Underneath before we could find her, I couldn’t imagine any way to track down where she’d gone. “If she’s already here?—”

“I know,” Bael cut me off. “Then we’re fucked.”

“But what if she is?” I pressed. “Where would Ambrose take her? To the king?”

“By Aisling, I fucking hope not,” Bael muttered. “Even Ambrose can’t be stupid enough to visit the king.”

“Shut your mouth,” a gruff voice hissed from the darkness nearby, and I jerked to a tension.

We both spun around to look as a ragged figure emerged—an unseelie beggar. Horns protruded from his temples, and his completely black, bug-like eyes wild with fear or madness. Possibly both.

“What did you say?” I hissed angrily.

“I said to shut your mouth, Idiots,” he hissed. “After dark, the king hears everything. Even the walls have ears.”

“Then you’d best be on your way,” I snapped. “Or the walls will hear me cracking your skull against the pavement.”

Nervously, the man retreated back into the shadowy embrace of the alley, muttering curses or prayers—I couldn’t tell which. As he disappeared, I shared a look with Bael.

“Is that true?” I asked him.

Bael shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I ground my teeth in frustration, not liking to bring up my cousin’s clear connection with the King of Underneath any more than absolutely necessary. “Can you…”

He shook his head, already knowing what I was going to say. “I can only see, not hear.”

I couldn’t ask anything else, as then, heavy footsteps sounded inside, and two red-robed guards stumbled out, drunk on ale and their own inflated egos.

“Ready?” Bael whispered.

I nodded, even as bile rose in my throat. There was no honor in this, only necessity.

As the first guard fumbled with his belt, I stepped forward.

The man was a bulky bastard, all muscle and no finesse. He barely had time to register our presence before I struck. I reached behind him, and twisted his neck with a sickening crunch. The guard crumpled to the ground.

Meanwhile, behind me, Bael had made quick work of the second guard. “Do you think you should take the time to behead them?”

I glanced down at the crumpled soldier. High Fae might be able to heal a broken neck, but I wasn’t sure about the Unseelie.

“No,” I said, reaching down to pluck the sword from the guard’s belt. “It will take too long. Even if they eventually wake, it will be to find their robes and weapons gone.”

Bael shrugged. “Fair enough.”

I dragged the body of the first guard behind a barrel, and bent to pull off his robes. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a flash of crimson. A third guard was creeping out of the shadows behind my cousin, a long, Source-forged knife clutched in his shaking grip.

“Bael!” I called out, “Behind you.”

Later, I’d realize it was that yell that sealed our fate. That the walls really did seem to hear all, and that mentioning Bael’s name after dark was perhaps the most foolish thing I’d ever done in my immortal life.

Like he’d been summoned by my yell, a silence descended, profound and chilling. Then, out of the shadows, a hulking figure emerged, flanked by more guards than could be counted in a single gasp. They swarmed like locusts, their red robes a sea of blood against the city’s cobblestones.

“Seize them,” the king commanded, his voice devoid of emotion. “My son and I are long overdue for a talk.”

31

AMBROSE

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