Torrent of Tears (Scourge Survivor Series Book 3)(38)
“I’m telling you to. I mean it. If it comes down to a choice, choose her.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“You are a phenom, little man.” I patted Coal’s head as his smile lit as bright as the iridescent field arching above. The kid was a natural at weaving through the night unseen. I tried not to think of how he’d grown to be so proficient on the streets but because of his mad skills, we’d skirted through the market center, past the canals of the commercial districts, and into a residential sector without coming across a single soul.
My only concern was that he might not know where Rowan’s house was because we’d passed the modest two-bedroom row houses, we’d skipped around the larger detached homes with the fenced front yards and now we were into the estate section of Attalos.
“Are we sure we know where we’re at?” I asked. “Cause we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
“Of course not, Princess,” Terran said with a sideways glance. “We’re in Attalos.”
“No, I . . .” I waved away his confusion and let Coal tug me alongside a tall, metal retaining wall. The thing must have risen a solid twenty feet from the ground. The Orichalcum vibrated into my palm as my fingers skimmed the smooth surface.
I’d never been anything close to a tree hugger, but found it strange that in a city this size there weren’t any green areas. Within the first ring of Attalos there were courtyards, fountains, metal walls and canals. No trees lined the streets, no shrubs or flowerbeds landscaped the lawns.
With my mind wandering and my feet trudging along on autopilot, I almost knocked Coal flying when he stopped right in front of me. I caught him as he flew forward and righted him. “Sorry, buddy. What’s up?”
Ydorus, Eury, and Terran took up the rear more gracefully.
I scanned the street. We were standing in shadow of a—
“Holy shit. Is it a house or a mausoleum?” I stared open mouthed at a stone mansion that looked to be the much-older-yet-slightly-smaller-brother of Jade’s mansion. Except this one wasn’t poofed here by Castian, God of gods. Men had slugged these chunks of rock here and built this sucker one hernia at a time.
“Do you think there’s a hunchback in that bell tower?” I asked, staring up—way up. It was magnificent, tall windows reflecting the glow of the moon’s light, and ornate wrought iron balcony railings guarding the black alcoves behind them. High above, three stories, maybe four, the roofline followed undulating turrets, more windows, more balconies and a bunch of wide stone chimneys. “Did Rowan’s parents own a fricken quarry?”
“No,” Terran said, accepting the key card from Eury. He slid it through the security box and a loud clack echoed into the quiet night. “They own the fifth sector of the city and all its wares. Now, with his parents dead, Rowan does.”
“What?” My mouth hung open as someone pressed a firm hand on my back and pushed me through the open gate. “I thought he . . . he’s a swordsmith and a doctor.”
The backyard was completely enclosed and the security wall reached high enough we were guaranteed our privacy. Ydorus secured the gate behind us. “He is, Princess, but his birthright is that of the son of the fifth house.”
“Rowan’s a Noble?”
Terran shrugged, guiding us around a dry fountain in the center of a courtyard. I imagined the last time the peaceful sounds of falling water filled this area would have been when Rowan’s parents still lived here with Elani.
“I’m not sure how it works now that his family is shamed,” Terran muttered. “The Laws are absolute. Rowan’s rights—”
The brilliance of the light cutting from the house across our group had us blinking and shading our eyes. Coal tucked tight to my side.
“Princess Grace?” The whispered voice came from an ebony silhouette blocking the open doorway. It was impossible to make out any features against the light of the backdrop, but the slender frame of the man seemed relaxed and unassuming. “Master Rowan told me to expect you. Please, come out of the night air.”
“Ydorus, would you mind?” I raised my chin toward the open door and waited for our escort to take point. Eury stayed behind us and we drew our weapons and moved as one. I tucked Coal behind my back and smiled at the tug of his fingers lacing though my belt loop “Stay close little man.”
The lush décor of the living room stood in direct contrast to the drab fa?ade of the house exterior. Rose-colored stucco walls set off the sapphire, ruby and emerald décor which spilled across the overstuffed sofas, thick draperies and broad swaths of buttermilk marble.
A genuine warmth oozed from the scattered array of family photos to the books and possessions piled haphazardly on surfaces around the room. The family Rowan lost.
“If it pleases you, Princess,” the old guy said. “Let us begin your welcome in the front atrium and greet you properly.” He scooted down a candlelit hallway with more spring than I would have thought possible. Eury took one last look into the moon-washed courtyard, then locked the back door and we hustled to catch up.
I could see why Rowan’s butler wanted to begin in the main foyer the moment we arrived. The wall of the three-story atrium was a back-lit, tiered, glass fountain. Water trickled and splashed down the textured contours, falling from the top floor to pool into the tropical grotto below. Lit from beneath the champagne surface, schools of multi-colored fish lazed and swam in and amongst a rainbow of anemone.