“I don’t know what I mean,” I admit to him, nervous in my confession.
Despite us being brothers, a secret as big as this, a direct act of rebellion, is not something we’ve shared so openly before. I’ve griped about my father, certainly, but this is different. This is treason.
“It sure felt like you did,” he says. “It felt like you were considering throwing your life away to save that woman.”
I stare down at the black, empty street. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m tired of all of this.”
Silence settles over us, amplified only by the darkness, and the death that took over these parts of the country years ago. My stomach coils, my unease deepening the longer we wait for something—for him to respond, for this human girl to arrive, for Harland to fly off the walls, anything.
“Well,” Caz says at last, a little more cheerful than I anticipate, and immediately putting me at ease. “If you need anything from me, let me know.”
I stare at him, agape, entirely at a loss for words.
“What? You think it’s so shocking to find out that you want to disobey your father’s orders, release his most prized prisoners, and embrace a life of exile in the name of your own freedom?” He gives me a mockingly dubious look. “Please. You’ve been talking about giving him the middle finger as you ride off into the sunset for years. It was only a matter of time, really.”
As a smirk begins to grow, I thank him through the blood oath.
Jarring us from our private—bordering criminal—conversation, a smooth, rich voice coats the inside of my mind.
“Tell the others to look alive,” Rhain says, sounding as if he’s on the edge of ecstasy. “I just spotted our bleeder heading your way. And ooo, if she doesn’t look like a treat.”
“They’re coming,” I tell everyone through the bond, grateful that we decided to refresh our marks before we split up again. Most of the others managed to keep their oaths safe from the rain earlier, but this way I knew they could be relied upon. I turn to Caz, who’s expectant and waiting. “It was Rhain.”
“So, she’s coming from the west then,” he says, and then pauses to think, expression contorting. “He only mentioned the one?”
I nod. “I guess Lewis was telling the truth.”
Caz still looks unconvinced. “I guess. It just feels…like a trap. Or about the dumbest decision I’ve ever heard. Why would you send one mercenary to a spot where you know your people have already been preyed upon?”
He’s right. It doesn’t make sense. To send a single human into danger would be a fool’s errand.
Unless, like he said, it’s a trap.
“Be on guard,” I say into the bond. “We’ve spotted just the one girl thus far, but there could be others following behind her. Keep your eyes and ears open. And report anything suspicious—and I meananything.”
Beside me, Caz dons his soldier’s mask and presses lower, taking cover behind the short wall before us. But if Rhain was the one to spot her, given our position south of the well, we likely won’t even be able to see her approaching.
“Come on,” I say to Caz through the bond. “Let’s get closer. I want to be there when she arrives.”
“You mean you want to make sure Harland doesn’t do anything foolish.”
“Precisely.”
We climb down from the rooftop and make our way closer to the well. My jaw sets in a firm line at the sight of my aunt huddled there, but I try steeling myself against whatever empathy I might be experiencing for her. I can figure out how to save her later. For now, I need my focus.
* * *
We see the human girl before we hear her, which is more than can be said for most humans. In my experience, they’re loud and careless. The heavy breathing. The sniffling. The clunky footsteps as they struggle to meander across uneven terrain. They don’t give a second thought to how much noise their bodies make as they move about the world despite their very survival depending on it.
But the young woman who approaches is as silent as the moon rising into the night sky, and just a mesmerizing. The sharp angles of her high cheekbones, the slender curve of her neck, and the way her honeyed eyes glow in the night are striking. But even more so is the way that she moves, as if the night is as much a part of her, as she is it.
Most humans steer clear of the dark maw of shadows as if they might bite them. She, however, gives herself over to them. When she slinks from one to another, I notice the dried stream of half-cleaned blood crusted on her chin and down her neck. It’s not an unusual sight for a noctis—feeding can get messy sometimes. But for a human? I find myself suddenly entranced and curious to know more about her.
But first things first.
Concealed in the shadows, Caz and I hang back, awaiting the spring of our trap.
9
