Page 10 of A City of Flames

“Thank you,” I say into the crook of his neck. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“You’ll always love adventure, won’t you?”

“I won’t just love it, Idris,” I whisper in wonder as we part. “I’ll chase it.”

The words my mother had spoken of on her deathbed... for me to always chase whatever bliss adventure awaits me.

Idris’s expression contorts into a look of pride before my eyes travel over to Illias and Iker.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me behind with Iker,” Illias mumbles, not meeting my gaze like a child.

I shake my head in amusement and pull them both into another hug, ignoring Iker’s complaints about squashing the rabbit as I close my eyes. “I’ll see you all soon, I promise.” My throat bobs as I let go, looking at the three standing with nothing more but saddened smiles. I want to take them with me, I want us to live in the city together...

Exhaling, I turn towards the parading crowd and where the venators are. The urge for tears is replaced with anticipation of a dream I’d been waiting on for years.

I place the satchel over me, careful not to let it catch against my sheath as I move through everyone. Bodies press to mine once I near horses and carriages, but brittle fingers dig into my wrist, pulling me backward before reaching Lorcan. I look to my left and see the person holding me is none other than Ivarron.

Not now, not now, not now.

His cruel gaze sets upon my face as he spits out the words, “Idris may have taken on your role, but don’t forget where you truly belong. Did you think leaving this place—”

“I can get you more money,” I say quickly, making him perk up with attention. “That’s all you want, right? Money to cover your retched gambling problems. It’s why you used me when I signed that contract, because you knew I could get you all the money you needed without lifting a finger.”

I subtly glance at where my brothers are as they raise their heads over the crowd, trying to spot me. It won’t be long before Idris notices something’s wrong, except Ivarron doesn’t seem to be making any plans to let go as I gaze at him. He looks to be pondering over what I said before, pulling me in closer. I try not to make a face at the dreary, pale complexion of his or the foul odor of alcohol seeping through his shirt.

“It’s not just money I want.”

“Then what,” I grit, not prepared to meet his demands.

“They speak of a shifter,” he says, low and quiet. The early sunrise reflects his glass eye as he glances around to make sure no one else can hear. “A thief that carries all three powers of a Merati, Ardenti, and Umbrati. And that his blood can make anyone immortal without having to see if a bite from one would work.” A wince comes out of me as his grip tightens. “The problem is that every venator is after him. They want him dead, but if you capture him and bring me his blood? I won’t bother you or your brothers again.”

Voices around us quiet into slurring praises although I know it is my mind losing focus of everyone. Capture a thief, bring Ivarron back his blood, and my brothers won’t have to deal with the mistake I made when I agreed to work with him. But a thief who happens to be a shifter isn’t simple, and Ivarron knows it.

His hold finally loosens, and he walks backward before I can get a word in, yet the cold gaze stays rooted on me like he knows those final words were enough to convince me.

I stay frozen, watching Ivarron disappear into the swarm of people. I contemplate turning to my brothers, but they don’t need that stress, not when I’d do anything for them in a heartbeat.

Turning once more, my expression must look no less than cheerless to others as I make it to Lorcan. He’s tightening the reins on his horse as his eyes, like fresh clover—ones I seem ever so fascinated by—look me over.

He finishes adjusting the horse as his solid gaze lingers on every part of my face, and a half-grin plays on his lips. “Did you decide?”

I nod absentmindedly, hoping to forget what Ivarron told me to do for now. “I already knew my decision a long time ago.”

“In that case.” His voice strains as he mounts the horse. “You’ll ride with me.” That scarred hand of his stretches out to meet mine.

And like how I’d done yesterday, I stare at it like an idiotic fool.

“Unless you’d rather ride with Martin,” he says, and I snap my attention to him as he gestures his head in front of him. I frown, following his movements to a guy no less my age, picking at his nose and spitting on the floor before wiping whatever residue he has on his horse.

I’ve seen worse.

Raising my chin, I say, “In essence, yes.” And pull my eyes away. “He seems lovely.” Not a lie. An honest answer because riding with Martin seems easier than Lorcan and his constant intense gazes.

Lorcan huffs in amusement, arching a brow. “Miss Ambrose.”

I exhale sharply, knowing I shouldn’t act stubborn, not to a venator.

We lock eyes as I grab his hand and haul myself onto the back. A spring of unknown bubbling sensations ride up my stomach towards my chest, seeing that same humored smile from yesterday appear on his lips. I try not to scowl at him as I cautiously wrap my arms around the density of his body and break our stare, looking at my brothers instead.

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