Page 105 of Bloodguard

I scratch Toso’s furry back, making his hind leg twitch. “Guards would attract attention.” I shrug. “Attention is not something I need right now. I’ll only be to the aviary and back.”

Neela raises her bushy eyebrows but doesn’t question me further. “Fine. But don’t dawdle and be back before supper.”

She flaps her hands and heads in the direction of the kitchen. Toso leaps from my shoulder and races after her.

I hurry to the stables. I saddle Knight and mount quickly, then circle back to the manor, where Neela waits. She lifts Toso, who grips a leather sack with a long strap in his teeth. The moment I loop the strap over my shoulder, Toso jumps in, burrowing and squirming inside the thick leather until he’s comfortable.

Then Neela hands me three pouches of gold. “The proprietor drives a hard bargain.”

“Of course he does.”

“The aviary is in Lady Ashara’s former abode.”

I nod.

“Be careful, Maeve. Don’t draw attention.”

She knows what I mean to do, and she’s not trying to talk me out of it. I urge Knight forward, and he charges away from the manor.

“Try not to look so smug,” I tell Knight when we pass the main city stables. Moon horses are intelligent and full of personality, too. He knows what I’m saying.

He huffs and swings his tail, communicating that he can’t help it if he’s pretty. I laugh and stroke his mane. “Yes, you’re the prettiest,” I agree.

The elderly human woman who sells turkey legs looks up from her stand as I enter the city, her thick brush dripping with the honey, salt, and pepper combination she uses to baste the legs. “Princess—” she begins.

I cut her off by pressing a finger to my lips. She nods and whispers to the fairy helping her. He flutters off to spread the word that I’m trying to go unnoticed.

Neela mentioned that the mailing service is in what used to be Lady Ashara’s home before she was stripped of her title and banished from Arrow. I never met her, but Papa told me she was one of the few ladies of privilege to openly speak out against Vitor and my grandmother for their role in slaughtering the phoenix.

Lady Ashara was tough and loud, and it cost her. Grandmother could be generous, but she had little patience for anyone she suspected of disloyalty.

Knight’s hoovesclop-clopalong the cobblestone path that leads to the older part of town. The run-down neighborhood once brimmed with affluence. As we reach the top of the hill and look down, I catch sight of the glass dome of Lady Ashara’s former home.

Papa mentioned that she was a bird and butterfly aficionado and that she kept them in a massive solarium. “It makes sense that the mailing service would set up their shop there,” I tell Knight and Toso. “It’s the perfect place to rest and care for the messenger hawks.” As I say it, one takes flight from the rooftop, its large wings stretched and several packages tied to its talons.

When I dismount from Knight in front of the shop, I tug my hood farther down my face. I readjust Toso’s bag so it’s more comfortable over my shoulder, then grab my saddlebag.

I reach the entrance, noting all the available merchandise lining the windows. There’s quite an eclectic collection of everything. A bell rings above me as I open the door to the shop.

“Hello? Hello?” a voice calls.

I deepen my voice to mimic Leith’s and do a terrible job. “Good day,” I say. “I need to place an order.”

The front of the shop is what was likely a grand foyer. Erected walls have cut the room in half, and they feature rows of shelves filled with trinkets, bags of rice, beans, flour, and even sweets. Soaps, perfumes, and more luxury items line the shelves behind a long counter where the shop owner waits. The counter takes up almost the entire wall save for the two closed doors at the far end. The glass cases display simple jewelry, silver pipes, and frames of gold sparkling with crushed stones—none well-made or befitting of the royals of Arrow’s court. They are made for those of far less fortune.

A human man not much older than me with long blond hair motions me to the desk, scroll and plume ready in hand. A chain links the piercings on his nose and ear—oddly regal and expensive jewelry for a simple shopkeeper.

“What do you wish, and where, son?”

His voice is quick and animated. I slip the wide strap of Toso’s pouch off my shoulder and set it gently on the floor, then fumble through my saddlebag and pull out several vials of carefully wrapped elixirs and crushed herbs that help with fever. He places them on a scale.

I hold tight to my altered voice. “I’d like to send these to the village of Grey in Siertos.”

He stiffens, his bright-green eyes shifting in my direction. “It’s good that you came. This is the only way to get anything there,” he says. “Who is this on behalf of, boy?”

My muscles tense, and I slide my hand to the hilt of my sword, camouflaged by my cloak. I’m unsure he knows who I really am, but his stiff demeanor bothers me. “It’s on behalf of Leith—”

“The gladiator,” he says. “Yes, yes, I know of him.” He scribbles the weight on parchment, resuming his work. “Anything else you wish to add?” he asks.

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