The cold metal soothes the burning in my hand as I crouch low, pressing my palms against its side. I scan the path for another place to hide. I’m so focused on the way forward, searching for cover, that I don’t hear the crunch of footsteps behind me until it’s too late.
“Ello, little lady. Zis everyzing okay?” A cheerful voice calls, thick with an accent, and not at all concerned with being caught.
My heart hammers. My mouth won’t work. “I…” My voice trembles. “I’m looking for Azrael.”
“Oh?” she quips, lifting a brow. “Do zou know him?”
I nod my head. “He’s an old childhood friend. We used to play together—on the far hill where the broken things get discarded.”
She smiles, recognition flickering in her eyes. “I remember zou, miss. I will take zou to him.”
The woman motions for me to follow her, and though I hesitate, I decide she seems friendly enough. Something about her puts me at ease. She isn’t trying to hit me over the head and drag me off, and she hasn’t sounded any sort of alarm. It’s more than likely she’s good, like Sylis. In fact, she’s probably harmless.
Chapter 20
Azrael
Marblas’s head rests in my lap. I stroke my fingers through his mane with one hand, turning the strange metal box over in the other. When I returned from my father’s realm, and the run-in with the Fates—I found it in my pocket. Ever since, I’ve carried it with me everywhere. It seems important, like it might be something I need. Possibly a clue to what he tried to tell me. It’s small enough to fit inside my fist, so I put it on a chain and wear it around my neck for safekeeping. I can’t let this fall into the wrong hands—or risk losing it—especially since I don’t yet know what it does.
The box hums with warmth and magic. The brassy metal appears tarnished in some places, making the runes impossible to translate. I press it between my palms, and it flattens, folding into a star. The runes form a spiral. The etchings are small, worn and old. There’s something familiar about it, but no matter how hard I try to comb through my memories, I can’t recall ever seeing this object before.
I lift it closer, inhaling the faint scent of my father’s kingdom. Notes of cotton candy—overpowered by smoke—fill my nostrils.
A low growl from Marblas startles me. I shove the strange object beneath my shirt, hiding it. He’s alert and focused on the barn door, muscles tensing as he prepares to react. He jumps to his feet, and I do the same as the door slides open.
Giselle peeks her head in, a wide smile plastered on her face as she exclaims joyfully, “Azrael, I ‘ave zay surprise for zou! ”
My stomach drops as she yanks Mercy into view.
“Giselle,” I say, my voice rougher than usual, tension edging each word. “Do you remember that favor you owe me?”
“Oui,” she replies, still beaming.
“If you stand watch outside and knock three times if anyone’s coming, then I’ll consider the favor settled. Sound fair? ”
“Oui, merci, monsieur,” she curtsies, then shoves Mercy gently into the barn and slides the door closed behind her.
Mercy stands frozen, eyes locked on Marblas, who stares back at her, transfixed.
“It’s okay. He won’t harm you. Walk to me,” I instruct, moving to meet her halfway.
When she reaches me, I pull her into my arms, protectively, my hand gliding over the small of her back in slow, soothing circles as she crumbles against me.
“Azrael, I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I know you said not to come back here like this.”
“Shhh. It’s okay. You shouldn’t be here. But tell me why you came. What’s happened? Did–” I let my sentence trail off, afraid to ask, knowing I might not be able to control my anger.
I step back, holding her at arm’s length, my eyes sweeping over her, inspecting every inch for injuries. When I find none, I gather the courage to ask. “Did he hurt you?”
She shakes her head, but her lip quivers.
“What did he do?” I growl.
She’s trembling. I pull her close again. “Angel, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. What happened?”
My words are a soft rumble against her ear.
“Someone saw me,” she chokes on a sob. “The other night, when I slipped through the gates… My—I don’t know what to call him, because he’s not my father—his co-worker at the factory saw me. I guess he blackmailed him for money to keep his mouth shut and not ruin the marriage arrangement.”
