Page 27 of A Blade of Lies and Spirits

“Soon. Do you want to borrow my jacket?” he asked, though he didn’t look my way.

I nodded.

His coat, still warm, draped around me. It smelled of him: leather, pine, and sage. The direction of the breeze shifted, and I smelled blood on him. Why didn’t I notice that by the ruin when he first arrived?

I’d been too rushed.

“Are you hurt?”

“Eh? No. Someone I had to audit decided to kill himself and the blood got on me, too. It happens. Idiot. It wasn’t an executable offense. I’d just debriefed to security when you appeared.” His voice was weary.

“Turn here.” He didn’t try to touch me to guide, which I appreciated.

We stopped at a row of houses. An expensive neighborhood, near where the estates started spreading out. The door opened before Walker could palm himself in. The woman waiting at the door was of the same ethnic stock as Walker, although her black hair had been liberally striped with white. Her brows winged upward as she looked me up and down, but her sharp glance was not unkind.

“Supper?” she asked. Her dark eyes assessed me, a fugitive gleam of amusement shadowed them. “Staying the night?”

“Yes, to both, Dove. Alys, do you mind if Dove shows you to the guestroom? I need to change.” Walker put his reader on the small table by the door.

“I could help…” I suggested, letting my gaze linger on him.

He laughed. “I need to put clothes backon, Alys, not the other way around.” His hand brushed my cheek.

It was disappointing, but I was exhausted and dirty, so it was probably for the better. Instead, I let him go and turned to the woman waiting quietly for me. Dove led me up three flights of stairs as she hummed, an odd smile lifting the corners of her lips.

A smile that was oddly nerve-wracking‌.

Compared to the décor at the Dumonts’ home, Walker’s residence was roomy, the furnishing old and worn, but lovingly tended. The room she led me to was an obvious guest room containing a basic bed, wardrobe, and desk. The chair for the desk was plain, made in the same style, all simple angles in a dark reddish wood. Dove pointed out the shower room. “Help yourself to anything you need, there are towels in the closet and I have some clothes in there that will fit.”

There was no entertainment screen on the wall. The only decoration was the rug on the wooden floor, worn with age, jeweled colors glowing beneath our feet. I pulled out a simple gauze shirt and skirt from the closet. They would be a little large on me, but I wanted to wear a skirt tonight. Easier access.

The adjoining shower was modern as anything I’d seen at the Dumonts’, though. As I toweled my damp hair, loud footsteps preceded a thump as something dropped on a soft surface.

“What is it, Carl?” Dove asked, her voice low.

Huh. Why was she in the room white I showered? Bringing in the promised clothing?

To listen better, I paused and eased the bathroom door ajar, peering at them through the crack. A young man, similar to Dove in appearance, though his features were even sharper and his hair trimmed short. Both of them looked to be of the same ethnicity as Walker, though I wasn’t sure precisely what it was.

He set down a bundle on the bed. “Did you talk to Hastiin Sání about joining the Wardens?”

Dove sighed. “You agreed to wait until you were twenty-one in exchange for coming to Capitol, Carl. He won’t change his mind. Or bend even a minute early.”

The youth stomped out. The door didn’t close behind him.

“Bring some fruit and tea up,” she called after him. The stomping increased in volume, echoing up the stairs.

I exited the fresher. “Is Hastiin Sání Walker’s birth name?”

She laughed, startled. “No, it’s a nickname.”

“What does it mean?”

“Mr. Old man.”

I dissolved in a fit of laughter. Walker? Old?

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