The Wish Granter (Ravenspire #2)(50)

“The thought crossed my mind, though it’s probably pretty hard to break into a fae’s house.”

“Argh.” He turned from her and began pacing through the armory, gathering weapons as he went. If he was going to escort the princess, stars help him, into east Kosim Thalas, he was going to do it armed to the teeth.

“I need to know if he’s hiding anything. If he has any weaknesses.” The princess grabbed a dagger and strapped its sheath to her ankle. “There has to be a way to bring him down.”

She slid a throwing star into her handbag, and he began praying that there’d be no need for her to throw it.

Squaring her shoulders, she moved toward the stairs that led from the armory to the arena.

He followed her into the arena and then outside. He was about to continue their argument when she stiffened and took a step back, nearly running into him. He peered past her and froze, his heart racing, as one of Ajax’s beasts, half crouching, half running on its hind legs, came straight for them.

“Daka,” the princess whispered.

Sebastian wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her behind him as the creature thudded to a halt in front of Sebastian and locked its amber eyes on him. A deep growl grew in its chest as it thrust its face toward Sebastian and sniffed.

His knees were shaking, and every instinct screamed that he needed to grab one of the weapons he carried, but he knew he wouldn’t have time. If the beast decided Sebastian wasn’t allowed on the palace grounds, he would be dead before he finished reaching for a blade.

The beast pushed past Sebastian, its claws digging into his shoulder as it shoved him away from the princess.

He reached for his sword as it sniffed her, but then its growl softened into a whine, and it turned and loped away.

“I can’t wait to be rid of those things,” the princess whispered as the creature disappeared in the direction of the garden. Rubbing her arms briskly, she turned to Sebastian. “Ready?”

“If we’re going to go into east Kosim Thalas, then we do it my way. Agreed?” He waited.

“Agreed.”

“You let me take the lead. You do what I say. And if trouble happens, I will get you free of it”—please, please let him be able to get her free of it—“and you run. You run out of east Kosim Thalas, and you don’t stop until you are as far away as you can get.”

She glanced down at her generous curves. “I’m not much of a runner.”

He leaned toward her. “You and I both know you are not to be underestimated. If I say run, you run. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“I like your confidence.” She smiled at him. “Now, what should I wear?”

Two hours later, Sebastian’s pulse was thunder in his ears and every muscle was coiled and ready for a fight as he walked beneath the crumbling gateway to east Kosim Thalas with the princess by his side.

Granted, she no longer resembled the princess. Her hair was done in a simple peasant’s braid. Her clothing was patched and dirty—she’d had to rip and mend a dress and then drag it through the garden to achieve the look—and she’d wrapped an equally tattered and dirty scarf over her head and covered most of her face with it as if trying to avoid a sunburn.

His cudgel was a solid weight in his hand, and he slung a bag of food for his mother over his shoulder as they approached the first line of buildings. Tension hummed through his muscles, and he focused on every movement, every sound that whispered toward him.

They walked rapidly. He tore his gaze from the people sitting on their front steps or smoking on balconies long enough to check that the princess looked anything but royal. She was walking with slumped shoulders, her head bowed, and her feet shuffling as if she were too exhausted to walk properly.

Movement caught his eye, and he snapped his gaze to the runners who hovered on the street corner. They knew him, but they weren’t used to seeing him with anyone. Their eyes were locked on the princess, and he could practically hear them making calculations as she moved.

Nobility? Not with those clothes. Merchant? Too dirty. And Sebastian wouldn’t be with someone from either class. That left a servant or a peasant from the countryside. Were there signs that she worked for a family who might pay for her safe return?

There weren’t. He’d made sure of it. He’d double-checked every detail. Still, he gripped his cudgel as they walked past the runners and turned up the hill toward his mother’s place.

Dread curled through Sebastian’s stomach, oily and slick. When he’d looked at everything the princess hoped to accomplish in east Kosim Thalas, there’d only been one obvious solution.

His mother.

She used apodrasi. Thanks to his father’s line of work, she knew something about Teague’s employees and system of business. And she spent a lot of time doing favors for those employees in exchange for . . . whatever it was she wanted in exchange. Probably more drugs. He’d learned early on not to ask questions that he didn’t truly want answered.

If there was anyone in this part of the city who’d be willing to talk to him about Teague without disclosing that he’d been asking questions, it was his mother.

Unfortunately, there was also the possibility that she’d refuse to talk. That she’d scream and curse and beg for coin he wouldn’t give.

He had to force himself not to slow down as they came abreast of his mother’s building. Behind them, people had detached themselves from walls and doorsteps, just as he’d feared, but no one had attacked. Yet.