Page 64 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
“Did you find it?” Rose asked.
Bristol nodded.
“Good. Problem solved,” Julia said. “Let’s go to the dining pavilion before afternoon lessons. You’re going to need food after that sprint.”
They left for the pavilion, but as they walked, Bristol wasn’t thinking about food.
Hollis’s words burned behind her eyes.We all have bones in our closets.Bristol had more than a closetful—she had a whole house full of them. And she could guarantee that every one was mortal.
CHAPTER 43
Cat? Harper?”
Bristol sat on the floor in Tyghan’s study calling through the portal, staring at the small view of her mudroom, but was only met with silence. It was the second time her sisters weren’t there, and her heart sagged, but at least it still looked like the same mudroom, the same broom and dustpan, the same overflowing baskets of laundry. That much was reassuring. They were probably already at work or school.
She left a note on the washer instead.
All is well. Still searching for Father. Off to investigate another promising clue today. I’ll check back again soon.
I love you both,
B
With Tyghan gone again on kingdom business, it was left to Cully to escort Bristol to a bridge on the north side of the city. Eris said a merchant there claimed to have encountered a tall, haggard mortal on a deserted trail that ran through the Bollybogs three days ago. The wordhaggardcaught Bristol’s attention, because most fae were fastidious, even their simplest attire always clean, neat, and pressed. She clung to this detail, because if her father was running from trows, there was no doubt he would be haggard. Knights had already searched the bogs, with no result, but Bristol wanted to question the merchant to see if the man he saw was actually her father. Even a possible sighting offered hope.
Mug Ruith Bridge was by far the widest of the many bridges she had seen. It had three rows of shops and homes divided by two busy avenues wide enough for carriages and wagons. Still, they exited their carriage on a street near the bridge, since there was nowhere to park. Inwardly, Bristol grinned, amused that even fae had parking problems. Maybe some annoyances were as universal as roaches.
While she was riveted by the sights on the bridge, Cully ambled along with his hands in his pockets, bored, not appearing to notice anything.
She paused to gawk in a shop window at pinky-sized sprites weaving ribbons as they danced in circles. In another shop, she spotted beautiful woven scarves that reminded her of her mother’s work. Cully was several paces ahead before he even noticed she was lagging behind, but he didn’t complain, and just slowed his pace.
Their destination was a shop of poisons at the other end of the bridge. She had just dragged herself away from ogling a self-pouring teapot, when a cloaked passerby stepped in her path. She mumbled an apology as they did a little dance back and forth trying to walk around each other, but the next thing she knew, her sidesteps led to her being backed down a dark alleyway.
“Excuse me,” she said firmly, realizing this maneuver wasn’t an accident. She tried to shove past him, but only found herself pushed deeper into the darkness, trapped in a corner. “Get out of my way before I—”
“Bristol, Bristol, is that any way to talk to an old friend?”
The voice. She froze and peered into the shadows surrounding his face. He pushed back his hood and smiled, revealing his signature charming grin that turned every woman’s head in Bowskeep. His blond hair was still cut close on the sides, and on top, a loose strand tumbled over his brow. His warm brown eyes danced with amusement.
Not him, too.
Sweet fuck, all of Bowskeep was infested with them. Her knees turned liquid, but then old resentments ignited and firmed them to steel. Anger had become her new best friend. “What are you doing here, Mick?”
“Business,” he answered.
“Sure you are. Giving bike tours in Elphame now? I suppose that’s why you rushed off without saying goodbye?”
“That’s right. The more intriguing question is, why areyouhere?”
“None of your business. But I’m guessing you already know why.”
His nose wrinkled, and he nodded in a way that was grossly superior. At one time she’d thought that expression was purely sympathetic. What a complete mess she must have been not to see it before. But maybe when a person was hurting, good sense wasn’t as important as stopping the pain. And she guessed he knew that.
“Yes, I know why,” he answered. “Rumor is you’re looking for your dead father.”
“Another rumor says he’s not dead.”
“Who told you that?”
