Page 89 of Crown of Tides and Fury

“Who’s your employer?” I asked.

Sackett made a face. “Dunno. But since you didn’t want to give your name, I reckon that makes you even.”

The one with the gun gestured to the damp ground. I ignored him and turned to Wickham. “If it was Orion, he would have popped in by now, right?”

He nodded but pulled his silver blade out and nodded for me to do the same.

Ivy patted her waist where there were no blades or scabbards. “What about me?”

He leaned down to kiss her quickly on the mouth. “If it’s Orion, I’ll pop ye out and come back. Lennon will be fine.”

“Ah, so your name is Lennon,” the gun toter sneered. “All of you, on your knees or on your arses. I don’t care which.”

Wickham rolled his eyes. “That’s enough out of ye, pup. Ye and yer friends, in the tent, now.”

The kid sneered again, then his mouth dropped open when he recognized his own gun in Wickham’s hands, while he held nothing but air. The exchange had happened while he’d been busy blinking.

Wickham nodded at the tent and lowered the weapon. The boys hurried to obey. The shorter one waited his turn through the flaps and turned back, a frown making thick rows across his forehead. “I know it’s much to ask, but if you wouldn’t mind lingering until he arrives, it will mean we’ve done our jobs, you see—”

“And ye wish to be paid.” Wickham smiled. “How much, then?”

The boy was caught off guard by the question. “Tu…tu…tuition, sir. For all three of us. For the year.”

“A rich employer, then?”

“If he keeps his word, sir, he’d have to be.”

“And what color were his clothes?”

The kid panicked. A pop quiz he wasn’t prepared for.

Wickham and I smiled at each other. “NotOrion.”

And that left only one possibility.

33

Keep Your Shirt On

Beyond our view, a car approached along the road and slowed. The wheels crunched onto the shoulder and the engine cut. A second later, the door slammed, and we heard Sackett’s employer run across the road. My heart pounded with his thudding steps along the animal path.

He burst around the large bush and stopped.

Griffon.

He was dressed as an Oxford professor this time, in herringbone and stiff cloth that prevented his wings from spreading. It was all I could manage to keep my seat on one of the camp chairs. Ivy sat near me, the two of us stirring in the dying fire with long switches we’d pulled from the trees. Lying in the hammock, Wickham swung slowly back and forth. We all paused to look up and say, “Hello.”

Our new guest looked at Wickham for a long time, then nodded at Ivy. “You must be the wife. I’m Griffon Carew, at your service.” He gave her a nod before turning his attention to me. Just the sight of him lit me up and warmed me much more than the hot coals at the end of my stick, and time condensed. Suddenly, it seemed like only a minute had passed since we’d stood toe to toe in the library. And I promised myself that no matter what was said there, in that clearing, I wasn’t leaving without finishing that kiss.

Griffon glanced at my lips, so I knew he clearly remembered our last conversation, but there was something cold and hard in his eyes I didn’t recognize. And I had the ridiculous thought that maybe someone else was wearing his skin.

It was a long minute before he blinked and looked around. “Where are Sackett and the others?”

“Here, sir!”Three voices rose from the green tent behind me.

“Good lads,” he told them. “Stay where you are.”

Wickham gestured to the tent. “A lot of trouble for nothin’.”

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