The Wish Granter (Ravenspire #2)(61)
Once Ari was settled, Maarit said, “When you wake, all will be healed. You have clothes in the wardrobe. The boss will meet you in the library on the main floor. You may go in any room on that floor except his study, and you are never to go to the third floor. That’s the boss’s private living quarters. I take care of it for him.”
Ari tried to nod, but the bed was soft and welcoming, and little dancing lights were frolicking at the edge of her vision. She drew in a deep, pain-free breath, closed her eyes, and heard the walls sigh.
Distantly, she was aware of Maarit taking the tray of uneaten food from the room, leaving Ari to listen to the sea and wish for Sebastian as she slowly fell into a deep sleep.
TWENTY-SIX
THE CRUSHING NOOSE of fear that had wrapped around Sebastian refused to ease. He’d followed Teague’s carriage to a sprawling, gated villa on the southern edge of the wealthy side of Kosim Thalas, and then had made his way to the streets he used to call home. He’d sold the horse to the liveryman—probably for half of what it was truly worth, but he was still flush with coin because of it. And then he’d entered east Kosim Thalas, heading for his mother’s building, weapon out, coin hidden, wearing the rage he usually kept locked away on his face for all the world to see.
He was going to need it if he wanted to help the princess.
He’d have to be ruthless. Lethal. Unflinching.
He’d have to be like his father.
Before that thought could eat away at him, he shrugged into his coat and got to his feet as the sun blazed through the morning fog and the streets came to life. The princess needed him. It was time to get started.
A haze of pipe weed hung over the streets and the stench of rotten garbage baked beneath the morning sun. Apodrasi users dotted the street corners, their bodies thin, their eyes desperate as they begged for money to buy their next dose. A crowd had already gathered in front of the building as Sebastian stepped away from the front door.
“Look who got thrown back where he belongs.”
“Still think you’re better than us?”
“Gone soft now, look at him. We could take him.”
The calls followed Sebastian as he left his mother’s building.
Last night he’d made sure that the runners and plenty of others made note of his arrival. He’d taken his time walking to his mother’s place and had informed one of the children who was clinging to the doorstep of the building to spread the word that Sebastian Vaughn was looking for a job. And then he’d gone upstairs and slept against the wall outside his mother’s door. When he’d left after Parrish’s burial, he’d promised himself he’d never spend another night in that apartment again.
It was a promise he planned on keeping.
Judging by the crowd waiting for him on the street, everyone knew that Sebastian had moved back. It wouldn’t be long before a runner would come looking for him, sent by a street boss who would expect Sebastian to take whatever job he planned to offer.
His face grim, Sebastian faced the crowd of onlookers. Which-ever street boss took the bait first was going to regret it.
The youths surrounding him fell silent as he stared them down one by one, letting the desperate fury that drove him cool into the kind of dangerous calm that made it hard to meet his gaze.
“Who wants to see if I’ve gone soft?” he asked quietly. “Take your best shot. I dare you to.”
A few murmurs swept the crowd, and a pair of boys, both younger than Sebastian, pushed forward.
“Bet you’ve got coin from your job at the palace,” the shorter one said, raising his fists and rocking forward onto the balls of his feet.
“You can give it to us, or we can take it from you.” The other boy flicked his wrist and a homemade knife slid out from under his sleeve and into his palm.
Sebastian rolled his head from side to side and flexed his shoulders. “No one is taking anything from me.”
The reputation for winning every fight that he’d built before he’d left the district had protected him when he was just returning for the occasional brief visit. The news that he’d come back to stay was another matter entirely. Now he was a threat to the established pecking order. He didn’t know how many challenges he’d have to face to climb back to the top, but he was more than ready.
The two boys lunged for him at the same time. Sebastian pivoted, letting the shorter one stumble past him. Stepping into the taller one’s charge, he turned his body to the side, slammed the flat of his palm into the arm that held the knife, and then jerked his elbow up to smash it into the boy’s face. Stepping between the boy’s feet, Sebastian held the assailant’s knife arm and twisted the boy sharply to block the shorter one’s renewed attack. Three punches and one well-aimed kick later, and both boys were on the ground, bleeding and cursing him.
“Anyone else?” Sebastian turned slowly, staring down the motley collection of boys who had the hard, weary eyes of old men, girls with weapons in their hands and defiance on their faces, and the occasional young child tagging along with an older sibling because their parents were either working, using apodrasi, or dead.
A few met his gaze and held it. Most found something else to look at. Sebastian set a course toward the northern end of the district where two of Teague’s bosses lived, and started walking. The crowd parted to let him through.