“Then that Queen of his he sent to the Isles must truly rue the day she killed his mistress,” Lucie said, headed toward the door with her basket swinging on her arm. “A crime of passion, I know, but if I was marrying a King who looked like that, I would turn a blind eye to someone on the side.”
Gabe swallowed down the harsh retort that rose to his tongue. It tasted bitter.
With a wave, Lucie was gone. He and Mari both waited until the sound of her footsteps had faded away and Mrs. Cavendish had bustled into the other room.
Then: “Fuck,” Mari said, forehead in her hands, elbows braced on the table.
“Quite,” Gabe replied.
Gabe left the house with his scone half eaten. The walls were starting feel like prison bars, and nervous energy kept building in his body, desperately needing an outlet. He gathered his cloak and walked out into the mist, planning to wander around the city until the exertion made him feel slightly less like screaming.
The citizens of Farramark walked fast, the weather not lending itself to lingering. But today there was a person standing in the pre-rain, wearing a hooded cloak, leaning up against the wall of the neighboring house, and smoking a cigarette. Gabe didn’t think anything of it.
At least, not until the person pushed off the wall and started walking.
They stayed yards behind Gabe, ambling along the street. Entirely possible it was nothing.
But at this point, Gabe didn’t count on that.
He took a side street at random, trying to look nonchalant. Moments later, the person with the cigarette was behind him. Another side street, headed left again; the person took that turn, too.
So he was being followed. Wonderful.
His plans for a long walk to pass the time soured. Gabe headed for the fighting barns. If Eoin was having him followed, maybe it was to protect his investment. Make sure Gabe didn’t do anything that could compromise his safety, at least not before Eoin had seen him flick a flame in and out of existence at least a thousand more times.
All the way to the barn, the person followed, staying a few feet behind, never approaching any closer. When they were on the right street, the whoops of the crowd and crash of fists faint but audible, the person stopped next to another wall and lit another cigarette, within view of the door.
Gabe marched into the barn. He stayed at the back of the crowd, too far away from the ring to see anything. A crunch as a fist met a nose. Cheers and boos as a winner was called.
He stayed by the door and watched his follower smoke.
A minute. Two. Five. They flicked the ash to the ground, and then started up the street, apparently satisfied that Gabe was occupied.
When they were almost out of sight, Gabe slipped out into the mist. Turnaround was fair play.
The follower walked much faster now that they didn’t have to worry about tipping Gabe off. It was obvious within two turns that they were headed to the Rotunda.
Gabe hung back, watching them approach the building and continue around the side, to the same entrance where they’dattended their first meeting of the Brotherhood. He walked slowly, keeping close to the sides of buildings, as they produced a key, unlocked the door, and slipped inside.
With a burst of near-silent speed, Gabe ran to the door, shoving his fingers into the gap before it closed all the way. He gently pushed it back open just enough to slip inside, then twisted the handle so it didn’t make a sound as it closed.
The staircase was dark, but there was a dim glow down at the bottom. Someone was here.
He didn’t press his luck by heading down the stairs. Gabe stood as close to the wall as he could manage, made his breath quiet.
“I’m honored you chose me, Eoin, don’t get me wrong.” That must be the man who’d followed him. “But I must say, it seems Finn would be the obvious choice, since his entire line of work is subterfuge.”
The man sounded nervous. Whatever Eoin was doing down there, it wasn’t something the delegates of the Brotherhood apparently wanted to take part in.
Rich men, comfortable men, who didn’t like changes to those comforts. Even the ones who were fascinated by god-power didn’t want to think of it as more than an academic exercise.
“I have my reasons.” Eoin’s voice, slightly strained. A clang of metal, something dropping to the floor. He hissed. “Damn, that’s hard to hold on to.”
“Seems an odd place to keep such a valuable thing.”
“You say odd, I say safe.”
“I suppose that’s true,” the other voice muttered. “Especially once you solder the door shut.”
