Page 74 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
‘To call in a favour,’ they replied from the doorway, hands tucked carelessly into their pockets. ‘Worried I’ll meet a gruesome end?’
Thean lifted a mocking brow, smile sly and calculating. My heart fluttered and I told myself it was in irritation, from whatever form my anger wished for me to take.
‘Only that you’ll deprive me of the pleasure of doing it myself.’ I smiled sweetly, turning back to the books Williamhad gathered. Ignoring how the boy’s gaze shot between me and the voyav. Ignoring the voyav’s quiet laughter as they left. Somehow knowing they’d won.
I didn’t hate the image of their smile that came to my mind. Not with how rare they seemed to be. Like a strange gift I shouldn’t want.
‘Should we let them wander the house?’ William asked out of the corner of his mouth, nervously as if the voyav was still listening. Wiping his hands on his apron as if the compendium had dirtied his hands with the sorrow it contained.
No, Thean was gone. I knew by how my beasts settled and curled within me. Bored now.
‘We have bigger problems than a bothersome voyav,’ I sighed, dragging the crate closer to peer inside. ‘We need to find whatever bastard bloodline those lords share.’
Whatever Thean was up to, they meant no harm. My beasts might have been vicious but they’d warn me of that. They always had. Even if I’d never had a chance in how their vengeance came.
William pulled a stained scroll from the basket, brandishing it like a sword with a grin. ‘I found this family tree of the old houses. This should narrow—’
Only the scroll unfurled from his fingers at its own will, the page snaking across the table, knocking books free. Then onto the floor, rolling and rolling until it slid out of the door as if it were trying to escape.
William’s mouth hung open, looking down at the endless lines and lines of names. Centuries’ worth. ‘Bloody saints. It’s going to take forever.’
Foreverwas something I feared we didn’t have.
Chapter Twenty
Kat
The wild winds claim the east. Reavers through the underground move fey to the northern shores. Their numbers unknown and their intent dubious. Mortals and lesser fey are involved. The docklands are unsafe territory for those loyal to the civil republic of Elysior. Three patrols have attempted to secure the region yet supplies dwindle and retreat is our only option. For how should we fight a faceless enemy even the rebellion seems hesitant to conquer.
Council report from the eastern fields
Gulls screeched above on the unforgiving sea wind. Coating my lips in the taste of salt as I kept a tight grip on my hood. Thankful for the light mist of rain giving me a reason to conceal my ears. But the poor gloomy weather didn’t disturb the bustle of the markets beyond. Packed tightly with both fey and mortals.
A maze of stalls lined the great sea wall. The east coast of Elysior, known for its fishing and island trade. A fey haven, the Council having too much need of the items made and traded in the east to cause trouble here. One of the places I’d considered safe for Alma in my plans after the Institute. Yet the maps and stories had never done it justice.
The hiss of distant steam engines caught my ear, ready for their cargo.
Then came the traders’ shouts carried on the wind as women scurried past with buckets and baskets of wares. Young boys with hooved feet sold pies from shop doorways.
So much normality it put me on edge, where I lingered in a narrow alleyway. Right where Emrys had left me, in the company of Gideon – and his disapproving scowl – standing opposite me.
Much to the healer’s annoyance. The harsh winds disrupting his golden hair – he hadn’t bothered to pull up his cloak.
He’d protested my coming. Stating it was best I was left in the house. Emrys hadn’t said anything, he’d given me the choice and despite my track record with foolish decisions I didn’t want to stay put. I needed to fix things. Needed to learn. Needed to help.
Kysillians healed by training, moving, and hunting. They didn’t do well sitting still. Besides, if Montagor could send another blood seeker, I’d rather face it in the open than have it run into William or the house first.
I pressed myself back against the chipped brick, returning my focus to the beings that bustled past the mouth of the alleyway, the wind bringing the smell of roasting nuts and hot wine. The shriek of children playing and dockworkers laughing as they hauled rope while girls sold flowers from small crates.
How strange such peace was to me. How it threatened to drag me back to the memories of my own childhood that now only stung like an open wound.
‘You must have impressed someone,’ came Gideon’s dry voice from next to me, making me jolt with surprise at how silently he moved. ‘That’s quite a striking likeness.’
He was still studying the market, but he held a piece of paper out to me, torn where he’d pulled it from the notice wall at thealleyey’s end. I took it, oddly not surprised to find my own face looking back at me.
Katherine Woodrow.
Rebellion accomplice.
