Tira shrugs and gives me an awkward, strained attempt at a smile.
“How many times did it take someone trying to kill you until you got used to it?” she asks. But I can’t turn this into a joke, even if that’s clearly what she wants. I drop eye contact and notice the empty scabbard tied to her belt.
“What happened to your knife?” I ask.
She flushes. “I lost it in the fight. The ruined knocked it out of my hand.”
“We’ll have to get you another one. It’s not safe for you to go unarmed.”
“I’m fine, Ana, really,” Tira says, an edge to her voice.
“I didn’t say you weren’t,” I reply, taken aback.
We fall into silence after that, but the quiet only gives my thoughts more room to wander. By the time we reach the gambling den, I’m certain bringing Tira on this trip was amistake. She has no idea how to defend herself—has barely even held a weapon before—and I’ve been selfishly dragging her around just so I can have the comfort of my friend beside me, no matter how risky that is for her.
I won’t make the same mistake again, especially when our lives are only going to get more dangerous.
Leon
“Warren, will you take our guests around the back to my office?” Corrin directs his bodyguard when we reach the gambling den. It’s nearly night now, and the windows of his establishment are ablaze with light, music spilling out of the doors as a uniformed boy exits to meet us and take our horses.
Corrin waits patiently, not batting an eyelid as the rebels remove Lafin’s body from the back of his horse. But as much as his people might be used to dead bodies turning up, I understand why he wants to protect his patrons from the sight of us. Even in this city, corpses are bad for business.
Warren takes us to a room that doesn’t look much like an office to me. Bedecked in purple wallpaper, there’s a desk in the corner, but most of the space is taken up by plump armchairs and low tables with cigar boxes on them. I count three separate drink cabinets, each with a different selection of spirits and set of glasses. The way Wadestaff does business looks more like entertaining people than anything else.
The rebels lay Lafin down on one of the long sofas. His face is already waxy with death, and Warren the bodyguard finds a blanket to drape over him. I feel Ana’s eyes on me and wonder if this small act of kindness has her evaluating again how I couldbe so cold. My thoughts are interrupted when Wadestaff enters, straightening his cuffs and leaning against the edge of his desk.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” he says coolly, addressing Ana and me. “I currently have multiple Temple officials upstairs, enjoying the pleasures my business has to offer. I know we’ve beenfriendlyin the past, Your Highnesses, but I can’t really afford to host you right now.”
“What kind of officials?” Esther asks abruptly.
Wadestaff gives her a hard stare. “Not that it’s any of your business, ma’am, but senior clerics. Meaning that if you’re caught with Trova’s fugitive princess, your fate won’t be much better than hers.”
I shift at the hint of threat in his tone.
“We don’t want to stay,” Ana says. Relief passes for a moment over Corrin’s face, but it’s quickly replaced by suspicion.
“Then may I ask what your business in Hallowbane is?”
“You,” she says. “Or at least, something you can help us with. Esther?”
She gestures for the redheaded woman to take over.
“Mr. Wadestaff,” Esther begins. “We’re members of the Hand of Ralus and?—”
The change in Wadestaff is immediate. His mild expression twists into anger and he leaps up from the desk.
“Not this again. I told you to stay away from me and my businesses. Nowget out.”
Shadows swirl around his feet like hungry sharks, and the rebels stiffen, but don’t move.
“They’re here with me, Mr. Wadestaff,” Ana reminds him.
He turns his rage-filled stare onto her. The veneer of charm is gone, and in its place stands a violent, dangerous man. I step between them, my hand wrapping around the hilt of my sword, still bloody from the ruined I slaughtered less than half an hour ago.
“Watch yourself,” I say, my voice rumbling like thunder. “Or I’ll bring this whole building down on your precious customers’ heads.”
It’s enough to remind Wadestaff who he’s dealing with, and he steps back, working to pull himself together again.
