Page 194 of Lana Pecherczyk
“Why me?”
“You’re the murder’s golden boy, aren’t you?” Bitterness laced his words. “You and your mate with her Well blessing.”
Piercing blue eyes hardened on River, pushing unsaid accusations into his heart like daggers. Although no threat had been made, his body reacted as if it had. Mana surged to the surface of his skin, lifting every tiny hair on his arms. Perhaps thinking about reconciliation was premature.
Something felt off. First, Cloud turned up in his uniform, uncaring that it would ruin the Order mission he obviously knew about. Now he was asking for help? Since when did Cloud ask for help?
“Are you asking?” River ground out. “Or claiming the debt I owe you?”
“Forget it.” Cloud tried to shoulder past, but Ash and River closed ranks to stop him.
The three of them stared at each other for a long moment, distrust lingering in the air. But if this was an olive branch, then they had to take it. Small steps forward were better than none.
“We’ll go,” River said. “Of course, we’ll speak on your behalf.”
“Wait here,” Ash added, darting an almost relieved glance around the stall, tracking his mother’s progress as she moved onfrom the trader. “When we return, you can take us to where the cryptex is.”
Cloud’s exhale was so small, it almost went unnoticed. “I’ll wait here.”
“We’ll be back soon,” River replied.
“Don’t let her see you.” Ash stepped backward, eager wings already flaring. “And don’t let her leave.”
“Oh, I won’t.” A wicked glint entered Cloud’s eyes as he moved to a spot behind the next tented stall, which had a better view of the market. He leaned against a nearby tree trunk and folded his arms, staring into the distance.
Ash stalked off in the direction they’d arrived, but River hesitated. It wasn’t as though he expected a spoken word of gratitude, but a hand sign might have been nice. Anger tried to force its way back into his heart, but he shoved it down.
“I know it’s not the time,” River said. “But I’m still willing to listen. Maybe we can talk on the way to the cryptex.”
No answer. He sighed and snapped out his wings, ready to fly the moment he located an exit point through the canopy. The ruffling and rustling of feathers drew Cloud’s attention.
“Your mate,” he said, eyes taking in River’s new primaries, “must be powerful to restore wings that couldn’t be healed.”
“Sparkles is.” A pause. “But she doesn’t think so.”
Their eyes met. “I thought her name was Blake.”
“I call her that because—” River gestured to his hair, warmth flushing his cheeks. Every crow saw different UV patterns. Why the fuck was he bashful over this? Maybe because he’d never felt this way about a female. Like she was his destiny and his doom all in one. Maybe because he still felt guilty. Sorry.
“Don’t take all night.” Cloud rotated on the trunk, facing the market.
Dismissed.
It was on the tip of River’s tongue to say more about Blake, to tell Cloud that he’d get along with her if he gave her a chance. It only took a week of being in her presence, and vengeance had melted away. All he wanted now was for his triad to be back together. But he held back, even though it killed him.
“Cloud,” he said, “we’ll also speak on your behalf at the Order. Just so you know.” He paused, waiting for acknowledgement. The only sign Cloud heard was a slight tensing of his jaw. Nevertheless, River plowed on. “When you’re ready to face the consequences of your betrayal, we’ll be there.” He scrubbed his face. This was coming out wrong. “I mean, when you’re ready to tell us how we can help, we’ll do it.”
Cloud’s knuckles popped as he clenched his fist, still staring into the distance.
River sighed. At least he’d tried.
“Okay.” He stepped back. “I’ll … just head off.”
Then he jogged in the direction Ash had gone. When he popped through the mana-enforced sound barrier cloaking the Shadow Market, he found a gap in the branches and launched into the air.
River wasn’t farbehind Ash as they flew over the Great Murder. The storm clouds had receded, and a glimpse of moonlight illuminated UV trails left on the ground. The tiny glittering, intersecting lines were tracks left by rodents, other animals, and people. The more false light produced by campfires and manabee lanterns, the harder it was to see the tracks. The crow half of River wanted to chase down the freshest, brightest tracks to see what he could catch.
But the more human part only cared about one path—the one his matebond created, tugging his heart toward the Umbria roost. It took every ounce of control he possessed to resist going to Blake. The kernel of guilt he felt at leaving her so unsettled was blooming into something hard and frightening, something that confused his primal instincts. Something was wrong with her. He knew it in his soul. But a quick check with his senses revealed she was asleep. She would want him to do everything he could to repair his broken triad.
