“Isn't Aerin the same guard who wanted to arrest me?” I ask, recalling the sneer of the dark-skinned Air immortal.
Aurora winces. “That’s him.”
“He seemed loyal to your mother,” I reply. “It’s surprising that he would disobey her.”
“He’s loyal to a fault, but he's also the one who found her after the Battle of Brecca.” Her expression morphs, sobering in a blink. “He said he couldn't bear the thought of something like that happening to me as well, so when I told him I wanted to learn, he was more than happy to help.”
“Smart male,” Tristan says. Coming up from behind us, he wraps his arms around Aurora’s waist and tugs her against his chest, nuzzling her neck.
“What are you ladies up to?” Kace asks, strolling up beside me. Zander squeezes between us to place a wet smack of a kiss to my cheek. Cringing, I wipe off his slobber and he laughs. So I punch him in the gut.
“They’re not ladies,” Zander grunts, bent over at the waist and clutching his stomach. “They’re savage brutes.”
“Except for Aurora,” Amara adds.
“I'm not a lady!”
Amara snorts. “You think because you slapped on a pair of britches you're not a lady? You are a born and bred lady no matter what you wear.” She slaps a palm to Tristan's face and shoves him back, his body slamming against the cobbled street.
“What is wrong with you?!” he bellows.
Ignoring him, Amara tosses her arm across Aurora’s shoulder, winking. “But you’re the kind of lady I actually like.”
“That's a high compliment coming from her,” Zander says, ducking around me to speak to Aurora. “Amara doesn't like anyone.”
“I certainly don't like you.”
“That’s just mean,” Zander pouts, and I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. She really is terrible to him.
Kace jogs ahead and turns to face us, walking backwards. “So where are we going? The brothel?” Squeezing his eyes shut, he drops his head back and peers up at the stars. “Please, please say the brothel.”
“No,” I say with a fond smile, shaking my head at his theatrics. “The Quiet Harpy.”
Bobbing his head to the side, Kace hums in thought as a chilled breeze swoops by, revealing his emerald jewels and the tips of sharpened ears beneath his brown hair. “That's good, too.”
“In the mood for some dancing tonight, my lovely Lena?” Zander bumps his hips with mine with a goofy smirk.
“I don't think the people here would appreciate our style of dancing,” I reply, recalling the few times the tavern's patrons took to the dance floor. They were all stiff arms and raised chins. So formal. Boring. Even the commoners danced in the same style. Nothing like how my people dance. Free and languid, we move however we wish by the emotions the music invokes. Whether that's sultry, passionate, or even silly. None of these predetermined steps and awkward spins.
“Pish! These stodgy fools can kiss my ass.” Zander grabs my limp hands between his and separates me from the others, twirling me in the middle of the street. Several nearby lords and ladies in fancy gowns and surcoats give us the evil eye, but Zander pays them no mind as we dance away under the starlit sky like we have a thousand times before.
I chuckle to myself, imagining the scandalous looks we’ll receive tonight. “Alright, just one.”
“If there's to be dancing,” Aurora says, waving the stack of parchment, “I should drop these off at my shop.”
“Do you want me to walk you back?” Tristan asks.
“I'll be fine.” Placing a hand on his chest, she kisses his cheek. “I'll meet you at the pub,” she tosses over her shoulder, walking away.
Hearing giggling, I shift my gaze from Aurora’s retreating back, only to grimace at the sight of Zander and Kace with their arms above their heads, gyrating their hips in a dance move I've never seen before and hope to never see again. Zander does a strange twitch with his hips, then glances at me over his shoulder. I motion up ahead with a jerk of my head.
Zander nods, tugging Kace to his side. “Come on, then. I’ll not wait around for these slow folks. They can meet us there.”
Zander speeds their pace, while Amara, Tristan, and I slow ours.
Once they’re out of earshot, I ask, “How many died?”
“Eight,” Tristan replies.
“Fuck!” Amara barks.
“They’re here,” Tristan says, his tone somber as he stares straight ahead. “Some of them are, at least, and more will follow. ”
“I know,” I sigh, glancing at all the shops lining the street. The baker, the seamstress, the apothecary. So beautiful with their white stone structures and curving dark woods. Magical with the greenery crawling up the walls and the jeweled pathways leading up to their wizened oak doors. The question is, will they still be here when war ravages this city? Or will they fall to charred ruins when the Gods Cursed and their army of Soulless descend on this kingdom like a plague, infecting every soul within with the Goddess of Death's filth?
The former is more likely. These people aren’t prepared. Don't even have the proper means to defend themselves. Not yet, anyway. But with one simple conversation, I can change all that. If Darius is willing to listen.
“What do you want to do?” Tristan asks, dragging me back to the present.
“I'll talk to Darius tonight,” I reply, nervous at the thought, yet anxious to get it over with.
“I don't know how receptive he’ll be,” Tristan warns, slowing as we near The Quiet Harpy. “Aurora saw him after he spoke to his mother today. He wasn't in the best mindset.”
That's an understatement.
I’m not sure what all Darius spoke to his mother about, but it couldn’t have been only about the Gods Cursed attack. When the guard told him of the attack in the Gods Garden, I felt mostly anger from Darius. Yet when he was with his mother, I felt a whole slew of emotions. Rage, guilt, worry, shock, and the worst one of all, a deep, emotional pain that tore away at him.
I wanted to go to him, to help or comfort him somehow, but I wasn't sure he would welcome my company. Instead, I sent my concern for him through the bond, but instantly severed our link at his responding anger.
