Gregor grunts. “What?”
“The blood oath. Looks like the rain got to it.”
The blood…what?
Clothes shuffle again.
“Fuck,” Gregor says, and the two of them fall silent for a moment. Whatever the blood oath was, it sounds like something they wanted to hold onto, and therefore despite having no clue what it is, I’m grateful it’s no longer in their possession. I listen to Gregor’s thunderous pacing. “We search the area on our own then. See if we can find anything.”
There’s a long stretch of silence, punctured only by their subtle movements as they explore the marketplace ruins. My heart bangs against my insides, rattling my ribcage and telling every inch of my body to run far, far away. But maybe I’m thinking about this all wrong. They have no reason to believe I’m on this rooftop. They didn’t see me up here. And the blood Gregor scented could easily be shirked off as belonging to the ghoul or the rat once they stop presuming a human is nearby. They will, however, see me if I move. They’ll know I’m here if I so much as swallow too loudly.
I’ve made the mistake before of running when I should’ve stayed hidden. I’ve let my nerves convince me I’m in danger when logic could’ve assured me otherwise. Hiding is how I survived Hulbeck and it’s how I’ve survived most of my days since.
“How long you think?” the one called Boris asks. “How long before they’re back?”
“Meat spoils fast. A trap like this would need to be checked often. Every day maybe. Whoever set it, they’ll be back. Soon.”
There’s a short pause, long enough that I start to fear that one of them might’ve heard my heart pounding and rattling Sable where she’s clutched against me. I squeeze her tighter. I need a plan, one that won’t draw their attention up here.
That’s going to be nearly impossible given our proximity and the way these old, dilapidated buildings like to creak.
“Or maybe this guy, here—” To enunciate his meaning, Boris thumps something. The ghoul maybe? “—ate whoever it was. He’s plump enough. Could’ve had a meal recently.”
Gregor makes a frustrated sound. “True or not, we’re here for one reason: to find the king some fodder for his fucking Hunt.”
The king? As in, King Tor Devonshire? Fuck, of course he meansthatking; there are no others. Which means he’s talking about the same king who strode into Hulbeck on horseback and commanded his noctis to go home-to-home searching forhim—whoeverhimwas.
At the mere thought of his name, my heartbeat triples its pace. I’m back beneath those floorboards again, those horse hooves galloping overhead, the noctis pillaging my home while I lay curled in a ball in a hole.
I’m so busy trying to catch my breath and convince myself that I’m not that frightened, helpless little girl anymore, that the second part of that sentence goes unnoticed.
“It doesn’t matter what’s in this ghoul’s belly as long as we don’t return empty-handed!”
“I know, I know,” Boris groans. “You don’t gotta remind me what’s at stake here.”
“Apparently, I fucking do,” Gregor bellows, the sound exploding throughout the courtyard. “What did the prince say before we left?” He hardly gives Boris a chance to respond. “What did he say?”
Reluctantly, the other noctis does as he’s beckoned. “That it’s our hides if we don’t bring back some live ones. Fresh blood pumping through their veins, or nothing.”
“Mmm. So, you’re not a complete idiot?”
“Only half,” Boris says with an almost boy-like chuckle. “So, what do we do? Where do we start? Oh man, can you imagine the look on Malachi’s face if we actually find a human? Do you think he’ll give us a taste?”
“Doubtful.”
A sorrowful moan whines from the scrawny noctis. “What I wouldn’t give to drink some real blood—not that ghoul sludge-shit.”
“Mhmm,” Gregor mumbles his agreement, but even though I can’t see him, I can sense his attention isn’t on the ghoul, but on every alleyway, shadow, and even the rooftops.
I don’t know what to do. They don’t seem to be moving on. And if they need to return with a human and the only lead they’ve found is my trap, then what reason would they have to go before turning every inch of this place over?
“We start here,” Gregor says, returning to Boris’ original line of panicked questioning. “The ghoul was chomping on rat guts, for fuck’s sake. I doubt he ate a human recently. I think the man who set this trap is still out there—”
Man?
Whatever. He can presume whatever he wants to presume. His underestimation of me can be forged into a weapon, one I intend to use if I get the chance.
“Even if he is long gone, it’s the best chance we have in this ghost town.”
