Page 130 of A Warrior's Fate

The shop was quiet, save what seemed to be the soft hum of music from the back of the stacks, and the air smelled faintly of burning incense—jasmine and sandalwood. Isla turned to Jonah who was working at each lock on the door. Five, to be exact.

She wanted to ask him why he found them all so necessary, but instead, found herself drawn to the dark patterns on his back, visible beneath the light, almost-sheer fabric of his shirt. “What are the tattoos?”

Jonah finished the final lock and spun. He brought his eyes to his chest, clenching and releasing his fist. “A symbol of codependence.”

The dry answer was all he seemed prepared to give.

While the shop owner disappeared to the back, telling Isla to give him a minute, she found herself meandering around the shelves, fiddling with books, bobbles, and machine parts. There was more reading here about Deimos than she’d ever been able to track down in Io—more on the other packs too. Books on its history, its culture, and fiction weaved by local authors. A lot of the books Jonah had were used but still in decent condition. Some had writing in them, notes in the margins, comments made by those now beyond. Isla found those to be her favorites.

She heard a door open and close, and the hum of music cut to silence. Jonah emerged from behind the shelves with two mugs in his hands, steam billowing from the tops of each. Isla could catch a rich, nutty scent wafting from them. Her mouth watered.

“I don’t know if you’re one of those tea people in the morning, but that’s not enough for me.” Jonah handed her one of the cups. “Especially when I’m wrenched from sleep at ungoddessly hours.”

Isla wrapped her fingers around the mug, letting the heat leech into her skin. “The sun’s up. Don’t be a baby.” She took in a greedy whiff. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

Jonah snickered at the jab and gulped down a hefty amount of the searing beverage. “I’m assuming you didn’t come here to ask about our tattoos.”

Isla sipped on her drink and nearly moaned at the taste, going in for another quickly. But everything turned sour as she remembered why she was here.

She lowered her cup, moving towards the check-out counter. “No.”

Her bag made a light clunking sound after it was hoisted onto it. She rifled through, Jonah appearing behind her just as she pulled out the marker, then the book. Her heart felt stuck in her throat, beating in her ears, as she placed them down on the table.

She waited for the Imperial Guard to storm the shop, for the world to tilt on its axis, for her and Jonah to burst into flames.

But when she turned to the shop owner, he was indifferent.

He scratched at the stubble sprouting along his chin. “What are these?”

Isla took in a deep breath. “That’s what I need you to tell me.”

Jonah looked between her and the items again, suspicion fluttering over his face. “And where did you get them?”

“Does it matter?”

The question caused the corner of his mouth to tick upwards. “Ominous.”

“Just keeping you on your toes.”

The statement riled the other side of his lips, and Jonah put his brew down, going for the book first. The second he opened it, his features fell.

Isla was quiet as he flipped, and flipped, and flipped, opting to fan through to the end. She cleared her throat. “Do you know what it is?”

Jonah snapped the book closed. “Not a clue.” He ran a finger over the spine covered with dried blood, but he had no question about it. “I’m curious though, which is a good start, but I’m also concerned.” Jonah picked up the marker and examined its surface, realizing what Isla had, so went through the book again to catch the similarities in the writing. “This is why you asked me about languages.”

Isla nodded. “It’s none of the native tongues, and it’s obviously not the Common…what are you worried about?”

“The fact you also asked me about Phobos.” He cast an eye in her direction. “I can’t think of the last time I’ve heard anyone refer to that pack, or try to look into it as anything other than the Wilds. And from personal experience, it’s never good when Imperial Pack members ask questions.”

Personal experience?

Before Isla had a chance to ask what that meant, there was a pounding at the door. Reflexively, she spun, arms splaying slightly as if to shield the book, marker, and Jonah from whatever it was. A pool of red haloed the glass and was cast down upon the floor by the sunlight. They both knew who it was.

“Is everyone in the mood to visit this morning?” Jonah mumbled, placing the book and marker gently on the counter. Isla shifted her bag to hide them from view, at least until Davina left.

The hotel secretary didn’t cease her banging on the door, even as Jonah went through each of the locks again, calling for her to relax. When he pulled the entrance open, Davina—still clad in her pajamas, hair still mussed from bedhead—was panting, her face flushed as if she’d run here a few minutes after waking.

But as her gaze fell upon Isla, all the color drained away. “Oh, Goddess, you’re here.”

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