“Wait,” Fordham commanded.
Kerrigan sighed. “What? Are you going to tell me not to go? I thought you’d be pleased that this little half-breed was finally leaving the party.”
He arched an eyebrow, and then, untied the cloak at his neck. He slung it off his shoulders and held it out to her.
“What’s this?” she asked warily.
“It’s a cold night, and you’re in pink. This will conceal you.”
She stared at it harder. “What’s the catch, princeling?”
“Just take it,” he snarled.
And the command in his voice sent a different sort of shiver through her body. He was being nice to her. There had to be a reason for it, but she couldn’t see why he was doing it. He just…was.
She reached out with trembling fingers and took the cloak from him. She swept the fabric around her shoulders, letting the silkiest material she had ever encountered envelop her small figure. It was still warm from his body.
“Thank you,” she whispered, but he had already turned away as if he had never done one kind thing for her.
So she left swiftly down the stairs, through the iron gate, out of the garden, and into the deep, dark night beyond.
13
The Shadow
Lyam
Lyam shouldn’t have told Kerrigan.
He had known it as soon as it slipped past his mouth that he shouldn’t have said a damn word about Kerrigan’s visions to her. Even though she had seemed almost relieved, it had put another kink in their friendship. A friendship that he very much wanted to become more. And he knew that she very much did not want that. He had thought that he could reconcile himself with that. That they could just be friends, as they had always been. But he loved her. He loved her rebellious nature and her quick smile and her sharp wit. He hated how much he loved her. And how it’d ruined the best thing he’d ever had.
So, he had taken to protecting her, to following in her wake and making sure she got to where she was going. He’d thought he had been more circumspect, but clearly, he hadn’t.
And still, he couldn’t stop.
He watched her exit the ballroom onto the balcony, and he knew what she was up to. They had taken the iron gate out of the gardens one too many times in the past for him not to guess her path. Especially after what had happened with the ceremony and Clover. Kerrigan would need to leave. And he needed to follow her.
“Excuse me,” Lyam said brusquely, interrupting Kenris.
He startled.
Yes, Lyam was a full citizen now, a member of Zavala. But the person who had chosen him deserved more respect than him cutting into the conversation.
But Lyam couldn’t care. He was too worried for Kerrigan.
He stepped away from Kenris, sure that he would be in trouble for it later. For now though, he only had one motive.
He hastened out the balcony door and froze when he saw Kerrigan and Fordham standing together. Almost intimate.
Something panged in Lyam’s chest at the display. At the quirk of her chin and the faint smile on her lips. And then Fordham gave her his cloak, and to Lyam’s dismay… she took it. She took the cloak and fastened it around herself. Then, she was gone.
Lyam was stunned. Could Kerrigan want some trussed-up prince? It was absurd to consider.
He could just let her be. But he knew after the night she’d had that she was going to be reckless. He didn’t want her to get hurt, and if he could be some small level of protection, then he would be.
Lyam stepped out onto the balcony and into the dim lighting. Fordham didn’t turn to look at him. He was still facing out toward the city, oblivious to anyone sneaking up behind him. What was he even doing here? A prince of the House of Shadows with no explanation for why he was entering the tournament. It was suspicious, and he had charmed the committee into letting him enter. Well, he hadn’t charmed Lyam.
“You just let her go,” he said accusingly to Fordham.
Fordham still didn’t look back. “I am not her keeper.”
Lyam stepped up to his side and glared at the prince. “It’s dangerous out there.”
Finally, ever so slowly, Fordham caught his gaze. Lyam tried not to squirm under the depths of those eyes. The way he made him feel so very small. “I’m sure she was aware of that fact. Now, leave me be.”
Lyam made a derisive noise and then traipsed down the stairs and through the garden. Fordham was an idiot. Lyam really hoped that he lost the tournament and had to return to whatever hellhole had spat him out.
Lyam reached the iron gate and chewed on his lip. Kerrigan usually did this part. Iron didn’t affect her. It must have been the half-human side of her that kept it from making her cringe. Iron had been used in the Fae wars to torture enemy combatants and to brand those who were enslaved. It was used for any number of horrid things that the sight of it, so innocuous, still made Fae hiss through their teeth. The feeling was protective and instinctual. He could no more cut off his own hand than ignore the cold touch of iron as he dragged the gate open.
He jerked the gate shut behind him with another shudder and then turned toward the Wastes. After seeing Clover get arrested, he knew which direction Kerrigan was going. He took the most likely route, hoping to spot her along the alleyways. He knew Kinkadia like the back of his hand. Together, they had explored every inch of the city. Hadrian had been born here, so he knew so much more than them. But what Lyam hadn’t had from birth, he made up for with gusto.
No, Lyam, like Kerrigan and Darby, had been given up.
His parents had been fishermen off the coast of Venatrix tribe. They were drifters, those who were not part of a tribe, selling their wares at market days along the coast and living off their boat. It was a hard way of life for Fae who weren’t part of a tribe. The system had been set up to help the tribes, but his parents hadn’t wanted to be join. They preferred their nomadic way of life. Except the warrior tribe Venatrix decided his parents were interfering with tribe fishermen… and destroyed their boat.
They had no other choice but to move into the city and try to find a new life. They never found it. After they’d lost everything, Lyam had been left at Draco Mountain with a promise to join a tribe and his father’s compass, and then he never saw them again.
He liked to think that he’d gotten his sense of adventure from them. That he was always searching for the water again. It was the reason he’d agreed to the first tribe that would get him on a boat. Not that he wanted to leave Kerrigan behind. Especially now…
Lyam stepped out onto the main thoroughfare that led north toward the Wastes. It was busy for this time of night. The street was crowded with revelers, and the taverns were bursting at the seams. A sign of happy times. He remembered after the protests that the streets had been emptied, a curfew had been enacted, that no one could leave after nightfall. The winter had been harsh.
He strained his gaze through the crowd and saw a tuft of red hair. “Gotcha,” he muttered to himself and followed Kerrigan’s hair like a beacon in the night.
They wove through the crowd, deeper and deeper through the city until she abruptly turned left down an alleyway. It moved away from Central and into the darker fringes of the city. The Wastes were only another ten minutes through the Dregs and into Dozan Rook’s territory.