Page 41 of Of Blood and Banes
His quirked eyebrows ask the question his lips don’t have to.Do you want to do this?
I nod.
He lifts the hood on my cloak over my head, then tucks the long strands of my silver-blonde hair into the back and out of sight.
“C’mon,”he mouths and then tugs me back toward the main street. He peers around the corner of the alley wall, still managing to find and lace his fingers through mine.
Is this for my own peace of mind or his?
I don’t have long to determine which, as he tugs me after him into the street. A mob of shadowed figures shifts far down the road, and Cole follows them at a slow, cautious pace. We stop a block away from Sethan’s office and slink down a shadowed alley with multiple barrels up against the brick wall of an old tavern.As we peek around the corner, down the street are two guards posted at the front of the building. Their spines are straight and gazes fixed on the distance.
Cole draws me back from the corner and unlaces his fingers from mine. He flips my palm up. With a series of points and drawing words with his fingertip across my gloved palm, he sketches out a plan.
My eyebrows raise as the pieces click together. He wants to be the distraction. To lure them away as I slip into the office by myself, and he’ll meet me inside. I shake my head. I don’t even know what I’m looking for, and I’m not trying to chance that even if I get in there, he can’t join me. It’d all be pointless. I glance down at my boots, mentally searching for another way. A grin splits my lips as I stare down at what’s beneath our feet. I grab a small loose cobblestone in the street and pluck it free, my gaze anything but innocent as I smile up at Cole.
I chuck the stone down past us in the opposite direction of the guards, and as planned, they both flinch, exchanging a glance before one of them heads our way. Cole leans his head to the side. Eyes wide in aare-you-trying-to-get-us-killedlook.
But we don’t have long to discuss it because the guard unsheathes his sword from his side as he walks toward us. As he passes the entrance to our alley, Cole strikes like a serpent. He snatches the unsuspecting soldier and rips him into the shadows with us, clapping a heavy hand over the man’s mouth to muffle any sounds as I pry the sword from him. Quick as the night, Cole wraps his second hand around the thrashing man’s throat and squeezes. I keep watch on the second guard still posted at the office down the street and flinch when Cole’s victim kicks a stone and it skitters across the road.
The second guard’s attention whips from the stone that stills in the middle of the street to our direction.
Now or never.
A heavy, sliding thump hits the ground behind me, followed by Cole stepping in front of me as the second guard approaches. He does the same as he did with the previous guard, quick to silence and knock the second man unconscious. After checking to make sure they’re still breathing, we take their swords and slice off strips of their tunics and wrap the fabric around their wrists and ankles into makeshift restraints. Cole takes another piece of fabric and bunches it into a ball, his eyebrows pinched in shame as he opens the guard’s mouth and stuffs it in. I follow suit, and then we slide them into the empty barrels stained with a stench of old ale. Once we close the lids, I pull out the stoppers on both barrels to ensure they can breathe.
I tell myself at least this way, it’ll afford us extra time if they awaken. Without another moment to spare, we head to the office, checking over our shoulders and down every direction the street splits into with each step.
I reach the door and turn the handle. Locked.Damn…well, it was worth a try.
Cole and I turn to each other at the same time, and he nods toward the eastern side of the structure. We slip away from the front and edge around the side of the building until we get to a set of tall, skinny windows. The inside is nearly pitch black, with only vague silhouettes of furniture scattered inside.
Cole tries each window then stops at the third one, finding with a little resistance and a creak, it opens. We freeze, waiting for any neighboring buildings or guards on patrol to hear it, but slip inside after a few still moments. My heart pounds in my chest.
Something about seeing this room in pure darkness is eerie, and my gaze is immediately drawn to the painting Cyrus shredded. The shadows accentuate how violently the art had been torn through. And I’m supposed to be related to him? It’s still a truth I can’t yet swallow.
Cole takes a few steps across the room, his profile blocking out half the painting against the far wall until he turns his attention to me. “What? What is it?”
When I don’t answer, he turns, following my gaze over his shoulder toward the painting, before he blows out a soft breath through his nose. “Yeah, Sethan has quite an eclectic taste in furnishings…”
I shake my head, ridding myself of the distant intrigue tingling at the base of my skull. “He said Cyrus did that. But I still can’t understand why he’d hold on to something so damaged.”
Cole blinks, as if the statement drives a dagger into his heart. Like I meant it in some other, roundabout way. Before I can try and say anything more, he stalks across the room to Sethan’s desk and waves a hand over the pieces left in plain sight, squinting in the dim light. “Shit…I don’t see it here.”
I sigh, then join him. “Can you at least tell me what we’re looking for?”
“It was…” he turns to the bookcase, scanning each tome. “It was a book. Or a journal, I suppose.”
“He already showed me the old dragon journal.”
“No. It wasn’t a study on dragons. This spoke of breaking magical bindings.”
I suck in a breath, blinking away the shock. “Like…”
Cole stops his searching of the bookcase and turns toward me. “Yes. Like breaking a blood pact.”
“He wouldn’t?—”
“And how do you know he wouldn’t?”
