Page 41 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

“Good morning,” he said as she approached.

Ava sat down, but she didn’t speak. A smiling waiter brought her tea and set down a plate of fruit between them. Figs drizzled with honey and fresh green grapes. She pulled at one of the grapes and popped it in her mouth before she spoke.

“You were injured last night. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” She couldn’t have sounded more disinterested, but he supposed he couldn’t blame her. The woman wasn’t stupid; she wasn’t buying the story he’d told her the night before, so he’d have to be more convincing this morning.

“All right. Convince me why I shouldn’t call my stepfather and have you and Leo both fired for being so high-handed.”

A fraction of the tension fled. She hadn’t called home.

“I apologize for how we handled things at the bar last night. I was worried, and I overreacted. I’d just come from a confrontation with one of this gang, and I saw one talking to you, obviously trying to trick you into going somewhere with him—”

“Did you also see me telling him off in my somewhat inebriated state? He wasn’t really all that appealing.”

“I’m glad.” He paused to watch her bite into a fig. “But I’d just watched my friend take a half-dead girl to the hospital. I wasn’t entirely rational at the thought of the same thing happening to you.”

She paused with the fig at her lips, met his eyes for a moment, then looked away, leaning back in her chair and looking around the courtyard as she nibbled on the fruit. Malachi was practically growling in frustration. How could this human woman be so impossible to read? Her calculating stare and disinterested posture ate at him.

Malachi continued to sip his tea as casually as he could as Ava ate breakfast. He had expected a torrent of questions. Anger. Doubt. Instead, there was… nothing. It was maddening. Finally, she put down her fork and looked at him.

“I think I’d like to get out of the city today. It feels like it’s going to be hot and the traffic… Are there any places we could go that are close? Day hikes? Maybe some trees? Somewhere with not so many people?”

What was her game? Whatever it was, he could play along. “We could go the islands. They’re just off the coast. It’s a day trip if you take the ferry. One of the islands has a nice hike up to an old monastery. Very beautiful. There are no cars allowed. On foot or horses only. Some carriages if you don’t feel like walking.”

“No. Walking sounds perfect. I could use a good stretch.”

“Okay.” He looked at the clock on his phone. “If you’re ready, we could catch the ferry in about an hour. Wear good shoes.”

“Sure thing. Meet you in the lobby? I have a couple things to do in my room. I need to clean up. Make myself presentable, even if we’re hiking.”

She looked fine to him—she looked beautiful, if he was forced to admit it—but Malachi wasn’t about to question her.

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

She stood and turned toward the lobby, heading for the front desk. Malachi followed her. She picked up a small box the concierge slid across the desk, then tucked it under her arm. Malachi intercepted her before she made it back to her room.

“Ava, if that was delivered last night, I might need to check—”

“You really want to go through the feminine-hygiene products my mom sends me, Mal?” She gave him a rueful smile. “I mean, it’s possible someone snuck a bomb in with the tampons, but I’m kind of doubting it.”

He cleared his throat and stepped back. “If it’s from your mother, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She turned and walked to her room, Malachi’s eyes following her every step.

The rideacross the Sea of Marmara was smooth, but Ava didn’t sleep as Malachi thought she might. She remained quiet and watchful, clutching her bag as they rode the waves out to the Ottoman-style ferry terminal on Büyükada, the largest of the Prince Islands. Once the favored spot for exiled royalty, the islands had become an even more-favored vacation spot for Istanbul’s wealthier citizens. Shops and cafés dotted the street leading to the central square, which was dominated by a clock tower. Instead of stopping for lunch in the square, Ava picked a few snacks from one of the shops catering to the summer tourists.

“Okay, which way?” She packed the snacks in her small knapsack and threw it over one shoulder.

Malachi pointed toward the carriages by the clock tower. “Are you sure you don’t want to hire someone?”

“Definitely. I could use the walk.”

“This way, then.”

It was early summer and the middle of the week. There were a number of tourists, but most seemed to head toward the beach or the restaurants. Only a few stopped to hire a phaeton to take them up the mountain, and even fewer looked ready for the steep climb through the town and up to the Monastery of St. George. As Ava and Malachi started out, they were alone. Leo stayed near the terminal, watching for any visitors, per Malachi’s request.

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