“Don’t get lost, you two!” Jezebel’s voice drifted from down the street.
Tolek smiled against my lips. “I’m tempted to do exactly that.” Keeping his hand beneath my chin, he surveyed the area. “It looks private behind that tent. We could…”
Wings fluttered in my chest, my core aching for him at only the thought. “Later,” I said, kissing him chastely, but I didn’t miss the way his stare heated at the promise. I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Vincienzo.”
“Yes, Revered,” he said, smugly satisfied.
I pulled him after me, invigorated at the promise of being in the land that held a piece of my ancestry. As we wound down the aisles, I committed every sight and sound, every smiling warrior and bartering seller to memory.
I got my wild, dreamer soul and proclivity for magic from my grandmother. I hoped, while we were here, I would be able to connect with her.
A pleasure housewas not what I had in mind.
“You’re certain this is the best way?” I asked Erista again as she, Cypherion, and I stood at the bar of yet another inn our party was commandeering for a few evenings.
This one, unlike the one Harlen had procured in Starsearcher Territory, wasn’t cleared out for our stay. It was quite the opposite, with residents littering the dining room and filling the rooms above. The front door was propped open directly onto a hectic market street.
Given that we were in ally territory now, the Engrossians were staying in the same inn, seated around our table in the dining room with everyone else. Even the fae were there, with hoods up. Mora had been increasingly quiet since the catacombs, but things had been more amicable with Lancaster. As if us tending to his sister formed a temporary truce.
“The pleasure houses are the best option,” Erista said confidently, elbows resting on the turquoise tile bar as we waited for drinks.
Water was placed before me, and I spun the glass between my hands.
Cypherion asked, a bit stiffly, “Why, though?”
“The Storytellers of Lendelli have formed nests,” Erista explained. “Something about the freedom of the pleasure houses attracts them.”
It made sense when she put it that way. Brothels didn’t usually operate under strict rules. It likely made for a comfortable, reclusive space for those of the famous cult to withdraw from the world, even if they were not working members of the establishments.
“Then, I can’t wait to see.” I tipped my glass to hers, and the Soulguider flitted off to claim a seat between Jezebel and Vale with our friends.
“Have you heard back from the Bodymelders?” Cypherion asked, his attention drifting to the table.
“Not since Esmond’s last letter. He said the chancellor has declined any aid being sent now that they got the flames under control and didn’t lose too many crops.” A devastating fire had swept through villages near Firebird’s Field a few days ago.
“That’s good,” Cyph said. “But it’s still unprecedented. Do they think it was sabotage?”
“It is,” I agreed, “and they have no idea. Esmond is leaning toward no.” He’d been the Bodymelder Chancellor’s apprentice in Damenal, had been stationed with Lyria’s troops at the border, and spent some time with us in the outposts post-war. Esmond was one of the best of the healing clan; I trusted his insight.
“That’s worrisome in a different way, then,” Cyph said, but his attention was still snagged on Vale, so I let the conversation drop.
“How’s she doing?” I asked, nodding to the Starsearcher.
Cypherion observed her, sitting quietly in her seat but smiling at the conversation. Cyph’s lips twitched upward, too.
“She’s okay,” Cypherion said. Then, he dropped his voice. “I think she’s grateful Harlen had also been named apprentice and few people knew she was back. It was fucked up that Titus treated her that way, but maybe it’s for the best. Harlen is acting-chancellor until the council decides what comes next and she…” His gaze drifted back to Vale, nothing but pure adoration glinting in those blue eyes.
“She’s free,” I said, understanding.
No more oaths, no more toxic savior relationships, no more tattoos and brands and temples.Freedom.
“Yeah,” Cyph said, wonder in his voice. “She’ll get there. The loss of the tattoo has been the hardest part.”
The breaking of a soul-bond. Automatically, my hand drifted to my own North Star.
I brushed it away, clearing my throat and looking over Cyph. Scruff still adorned his chin and longer auburn curls stretched to his shoulders. “And how areyoudoing?”
Cypherion looked at me, nodding. “Better now.”
