Page 87 of The King's Queen

“To find wherever Mavis is going, as per usual.” His second in command’s voice chases him from the room. “One of these days, you’re going to get yourself killed. Get all of us killed!” I shoot her a nasty look that she returns before chasing Rowan into the snow.

I find him standing in the courtyard outside, the shadows clinging to him as they usually do. I unfurl my fingers towards his, catching the moonlight in my scarred palm.

“Do you ever contemplate the gods?”

His back remains turned to me as he considers his response.

“Just as much as nature contemplates the poet.”

I tut my tongue and wrap my fingers around his wrist. Feeling his pulse. It quickens under my light grip, and a smile graces my lips. It fades as soon as I see the weariness on his face. He’s letting his guard down for once.

“You and your riddles,” I murmur, tracing a pattern on the inside of his arm with my fingernails. He shivers slightly but says nothing. His pinched brows and taut muscles speak for his firm mouth.

Am I going too far?

I kiss his shoulder.Not at all.

He relaxes slightly under my touch.Will you stand by me?

I prop my chin on his chest and stare into his eyes, my nose brushing against his collarbone. The rest of the tension in his body melts as his heartbeat syncs with mine.

Always.

Chapter34

Rowan

Vera focuses intently on a single buckle of her boots that refused to snap into place. She swears at it to the high sun and back as she realizes the problem. She’d forgotten to dry them after her trek in the snow, and the bulky clasp has rusted.

“Fuck!” she shouts, now red in the face and fuming. She tosses her hands in the air and glares at her boots for the obvious offense.

“Language. Laei, maybe Rowan’s been a bad influence.” Derrín stares pointedly at me now, as if it’s my fault. It probably is. Nonetheless, I stick my tongue out at him with a childish sneer. He returns the gesture, and Amír rolls her eyes.

“Does everyone understand what they’re doing?” She flips her gun in her hand, and old habit. She grows impatient as we throw out vulgar gestures towards each other.

“Yes, Mom.” Derrín jests, pulling out a tool from his pocket. Kya planted the listening devices that Derrín had made all throughout the tavern they will be scoping later today. Derrín will wait outside, and if something important is heard, he will vibrate a device in Kya or Vera’s pocket. If something dangerous is heard, he will buzz Amír’s device twice. I will be heading on my own elsewhere.

“Just to be clear, this tavern isn’t that one from Belam, right?” Vera shifts from foot to foot, biting her lip. I hold back a smile as I force my face into a neutral countenance.

“Why? Did you get drunk and flirt with the bartender or something?”

Silence.

“Ohgods, you did!”

Vera’s face flushes scarlet, and the shade is dark enough to cover her freckles. “Just shut up and go already!” she screeches, shoving me hard in the chest. My laughter chases her out the door as she buries her face in her hands. Kya pats her shoulder and whispers soothing words through a grin that Vera can’t see. I pull my hood up and step out into the snow.

Belam. The seediest town of the East. On the outside, it often appears to be one of those poorer western cities, where the nobles can pretend they give a damn. But where there are far too few prying eyes…

I would say it is a miracle Vera survived as long as she did in this city, but the true miracle is that anyone can survive and flourish in this environment. Despite things such as contaminated drinking water, low income, and the uptake in crime, Belam’s inhabitants seem to be doing just fine as long as they keep their head down.

I pull my hood closer to my face in a sorry attempt to conceal my identity. Belam is Mavis’ territory. To be me or anyone associated with me walking in these streets is a sure death warrant.

The oil I coated my hair with is slick and sticking to my forehead, no doubt leaving behind black residue on the powders we’ve covered my face with. Any trace of my distinctive features is covered, save for my eyes.

The cold rain has ceased for a few days now, though sometimes some small flurries of snowflakes slip through. The air is heavy, and dark clouds hang low in the sky. Any day now, we are due for a snowstorm.

My mount squirms beneath me. Even she seems to detest the city, or maybe she senses that we are not welcome here. I swing my leg over the saddle and dismount in one fluid motion. My feet barely make a sound as they land in the dirt outside of the most infamous tavern in Belam.

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