Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(18)

I didn’t respond. I knew I didn’t need to. He was right there inside my mind, inside my heart. His love grew in response.

Pressing my hand against the gritty stone of the building Wyn had dodged around, I propelled myself forward, out of the pink light of sunset and into the black pitch of the alley. My eyes adjusted, my magic flaring simultaneously as the shadow of Wyn digging inside the dumpster became clear, the ghostly whispers of sight following right behind.

“Stabilize your foot, or you’re going to fall.”

Wyn looked up from her digging, her nose wrinkled in irritation before she did, in fact, stabilize her foot and go back to digging.

“It’s freaky, you know,” she said in obvious irritation, her focus back on the dumpster she was excavating, reading tiny vials and boxes before throwing them behind her into the dark alley. “That you can see everything.”

“If you think that’s freaky, you should try seeing everything.” I was well aware my retort didn’t make it above grumbly teenager status. “Then again, it is better than being stuck scavenging with someone who will reek of three-month-old cabbage and fish bones.”

“I guess I should be thanking you, then.” This time, the game was clear in her voice, the smile sparkling in her eyes as she shot me a sidelong glance.

“You should,” I taunted, playing along. “You should also be a bit quieter if you want to live.”

“Nah.” She didn’t even look at me as she threw yet another box behind her. “I’ve got my friend and some super-powered magic. We can take them.”

“But then you would owe me more once I save your ass,” I teased, leaning against the wall in feigned boredom, really hoping she would take my advice and shut up. I wasn’t in the mood for a fight, even if I could take them all. “Being alive and not stinking is quite the tall order, especially for a queen.”

“I’m sorry. You would be saving me?”

I chose to ignore that.

“I accept gratitude in the form of allegiance, sword swearing, and of course, jewelry. Bowing will no longer suffice.”

The hint of a devious smile broadened over Wyn’s face, a small trickle of a laugh escaping as she jumped down from the dumpster to face me, a sagging bit of cloth clutched in her fist.

“I’m fresh out of jewelry, your majesty.” She seemed mournful, but there was something behind her eyes that set off alarms in my head.

What was she planning?

“It is most unfortunate. Would a hoodie suffice?” She lifted her hand then, the movement sending a wave of rot toward me.

Nose crinkling, I stepped away, horror filling me. “No!”

“What do you mean, ‘no,’ Jos?” Wyn whispered, careful to keep her voice low as she took a step toward me with what I was convinced had been a hoodie at some point held out toward me eagerly. “You love hoodies.”

“I love hoodies made of fabric, soft cotton … not rot and bug feces.” It was all I could do to keep the panic out of my voice. It wouldn’t take much for her to force that thing onto me, and Wyn was now matching me step for step in my effort to get away. And she was enjoying it, given the way her smile broadened.

“Get that vile thing away from me!” That time, my reaction was too loud, something we both noticed right away.

Each of us froze in place, waiting for the ugly hissing of the Vil?s or some disgruntled Trpaslík to come around the corner after us, brought right to us by the sound.

Hoodie forgotten as Wyn extended it between us, we waited.

My magic flared as I stretched it around the streets, through the sky, looking for any sign that someone had heard. That someone was coming.

There was nothing. Not even a whisper, which was something that frightened me even more. This city was never this safe, not with noise that loud. The security of nothing was clear.

So, where were they?

“Boxes are okay, but screeching is not?” I asked, the reason for her audible battle becoming clear, the look in her eyes cementing it in place.

She wanted the battle.

I shouldn’t be surprised. It was a Trpaslík thing, one she was extraordinarily good at controlling. But with Thom still down for the count and us being unable to spar thanks to imminent explosions, she had been a bit cooped up.

I should have seen this coming.

“Wyn,” I groaned, “can we please not kill anyone this trip?”

“You say that like it’s the worst thing in the world.”

“Last I checked, murder was pretty high up on the Worst Things in the World list,” I spat, my magic flaring violently as the revolting thing Wyn still held spontaneously combusted from within her hand, the dark alley igniting in brilliant orange light as my magic engulfed it. “Whoops.”

“Jos!” Wyn hissed, jumping away from the flames as she dropped the hoodie to the ground. “No fair. You burned my sacred offering to the queen of the Sk?íteks.”

“Is that what you were trying to pass it off as?”

“Some queen you are.”

I knew it was meant in jest. She was still smiling like it was. But I reacted the wrong way. The words cut me a bit too raw.

“Well, it does seem to be the consensus.”

“Eh,” Wyn said with a shrug before turning back to the looming pile of trash. “Don’t listen to ’em. They are the idiots for listening to a deranged old man who tried to kill you … and me … oh, and that whole pile of corpses—”