The Wish Granter (Ravenspire #2)(83)

“How many, sir?”

“All of them, but only if you’re able to deliver them for me. I’ll pay extra.”

She flashed him a quick grin. “If you buy the whole lot, I’ll take them anywhere in Kosim Thalas.”

Sebastian reached into the saddlebag, wrote a quick note on a bit of parchment, folded it up, and handed it to her, along with a generous amount of coin. “Take the flowers and this note to the servant’s entrance of the palace kitchen. Ask for Cleo. There’s extra coin in it for you if you get there within the hour.”

Sebastian mounted the horse and watched the girl practically run down the street toward the main thoroughfare that would lead her to the palace’s hill. Then he turned his mount east. While the girl delivered his message and Cleo figured out how to respond, Sebastian had work to do if he wanted to keep his job with Teague.





THIRTY-SIX


SEBASTIAN WORKED HARD to finish inventorying each street boss’s establishment by noon. The note he’d sent to Cleo had said he’d meet her at the pauper’s cemetery an hour past the palace’s scheduled lunchtime. He’d figured she’d need some time to make excuses for her absence to Mama Eleni, and he’d needed time to get the latest round of stolen goods entered into his ledger and then sent to the south warehouse.

Plus he needed time to make sure none of Teague’s people were watching the cemetery.

He rode past the thin iron gates that marked the entrance to the cemetery and scanned the street carefully.

Nothing.

He circled the hill, taking his time as he watched for a hint of Teague’s spies. Never mind that in all the months Sebastian had been visiting his brother’s grave he’d never once seen any of Teague’s people here.

Being cautious was the only way to keep Cleo out of danger.

When he was satisfied that the cemetery was safe, he tied his horse to the fence and began climbing the hill.

Five hundred fifty-nine stairs. Ninety-eight gravestones to the right, just past the olive tree. Sebastian climbed quickly, his scars itching at the way his back was exposed to the road.

There were a few visitors scattered throughout the rows of graves, but no one who gave Sebastian cause for worry.

Reaching Parrish’s grave, he crouched beside it and brushed grit from its surface. The summer sun warmed his back, and seabirds shrieked overhead as he sat in silence beside his brother.

The last time he’d visited, he’d been proud of his new job at the palace. Full of plans to save up his coin and get away from Kosim Thalas. Away from Father.

Now, he was working for the man who’d ordered Parrish’s death, and some days he could no longer tell the difference between how he did his job and how his father would’ve done it. He’d accessed the ruthless, rage-driven part of himself because it was the only way to survive the streets he walked. The only way to keep hunting down debtors while fending off attack after attack from those who hoped to kill him and convince Teague to give them the job instead.

He wasn’t sure Parrish would understand any of those choices.

The branches of the olive tree beside him creaked in the sea breeze, and Sebastian turned to scan the hillside.

No sign of Cleo yet. No sign of threats, either.

His brother’s gravestone sat beside him, silently accusing him of becoming someone he no longer recognized. Someone who would break a promise to his brother to save himself from having to confront their father—to keep himself safe from the darkness of the life he’d left behind—but who would then dive back into that darkness because of a girl.

Not just a girl. Because of Ari and the way she smiled when he entered a room. The way she’d insisted on treating him like an equal until he was dangerously close to believing it. Because she was comfortable with his silences and careful to give him the space to breathe.

Because Sebastian didn’t want to live in a world without Ari in it.

He traced his brother’s name and said quietly, “I’m in over my head, Parrish. You’re going to think it’s stupid, and maybe you’re going to be mad because things have changed. I’ve changed.”

Sitting back on his haunches, he watched a carriage pull to a stop beside the cemetery’s entrance. A petite girl with dark curly hair and a tall boy wrapped in a plain gray stableboy’s cloak with its hood up disembarked and entered the gate. The boy carried a sack in his hands.

Dread coiled in Sebastian’s chest. He’d told Cleo to come alone. He had no way of knowing which of the king’s new employees were loyal to Teague, and it was imperative that Teague never learn of Cleo’s involvement. Now here she was, about to meet with Teague’s top collector and hand over the only poison known to affect the fae, and she was walking up the steps with a stableboy.

No, not a stableboy. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he took in the way the boy moved up the steps with the sort of confident sense of ownership that comes to those who are born knowing they have more privileges than the rest of the world.

Stars help him, Cleo hadn’t brought a stableboy. She’d brought the king. The one other person who absolutely couldn’t be seen talking to Sebastian.

A headache throbbed behind his eyes, and he pressed his fingers to his forehead for a moment.

There were only four other people on the hillside, all over the age of sixty. None of them were paying attention to the pair climbing the stairs. It was going to be all right. It had to be.