Kerrigan could handle herself, but he still worried that something would happen to her, especially in that fine pink dress and a prince’s cloak. She didn’t exactly blend in with the grudge. Come to think of it… neither did he.
He usually changed before he snuck out of the mountain to see where she was going. But obviously, coming from the party, he hadn’t had the chance. And now, he was distinctly aware that no one else was out. He hadn’t seen a soul since the main street.
Lyam gulped and pulled out his father’s compass, running his finger over the faceplate reassuringly. Kerrigan turned right again, then another right, and then a left. He took that next left and then froze. No one was there. Kerrigan was just… gone. That wasn’t possible. Had he been following too closely? Had she caught on to that fact? That wasn’t good. He’d been caught by her once, and he’d thought that she was going to break his nose before she realized it was him.
He tried to backtrack and see if he’d missed her. But no, she wasn’t there. So, he proceeded forward with caution into the alleyway. “Kerrigan?” he whispered. “It’s Lyam. I just wanted to check on you.”
But no answer came.
Only steel.
Lyam gasped, clutching his ribs as a blade slid into his back. He fell to his knees as pain flooded his system. Whoever had stabbed him yanked the blade from his back and came to stand before him. The person was slight with a flicker of white hair appearing from under her black cloak. But instead of a face… was a black mask.
“Please,” he croaked.
“No, dear boy,” a woman trilled.
Then, she brought her face, covered by a black mask, close to his and stabbed him in the heart.
He had just wanted to see the sea one more time… and now, he never would.
14
The Dealer
Kerrigan strode into the Wastes, sweeping the hood of Fordham’s cloak off her red hair. She was hardly inconspicuous today. Normally, she wanted so desperately to blend in here, to belong. But today, she needed to talk to Clover and knock some sense into her.
But attracting attention in the Wastes was dangerous. And she was attracting a lot of attention.
“Hey, baby, you want to go a round?” a male Fae asked, adjusting his crotch for emphasis. As if she wasn’t aware that he wasn’t talking about a fight in the Dragon Ring.
She rolled her eyes and kept walking.
He followed her when she didn’t reply. “What? Think you’re too good for me?”
Kerrigan almost laughed. “Yes.”
Then, she whipped up an easy wall of air between them and continued forward through the gambling hall. She knew where Clover would be after what had happened. She would want the familiar, and there was nothing more familiar to Clover than the sound of the Dragons Up tables.
Unsurprisingly, Kerrigan found her in front of a cheap tankard of ale, holding a loch cigarette between her fingers and laughing with a handful of regulars.
“Red!” Clover cried as she saw her approaching.
Kerrigan’s fury topped out, and she threw the punch before she could stop herself.
Clover toppled off her barstool, landing in a heap on the sticky floor of the gambling hall. “What the…”
“What in the gods’ name were you thinking?” she shouted.
The gaggle of regulars went deathly quiet. In fact, much of the area surrounding their fight had gone silent. Everyone waiting and watching to see if the fight would turn into a brawl.
Clover clutched her cheek as she came slowly to her feet. “What was that for, Red?”
“You know exactly what that was for.”
She clenched and unclenched her fist. Clover looked at it carefully. She knew that she couldn’t take Kerrigan in a fight. Clover might have a height advantage, but Kerrigan had more muscle, and she had magic.
Clover gulped as she realized the extent of Kerrigan’s anger. “Why don’t you sit down and have a drink… on me?”
“I don’t want a drink. I want answers.”
“Then, perhaps,” a voice said, stepping in silkily, “we should take this upstairs.”
Kerrigan glared at Dozan. How did he just materialize out of nothing? Had he known the second she stalked into the Wastes that she was here? Or was it before then, when she’d left the ceremony? How far did his little spies go?
“Dozan,” Clover said, going pale. She bowed her head slightly. “Of course, we’ll follow you.”
Dozan’s gaze swept the room. “Nothing to see here. Continue.”
Just like that, the rope snapped. Everyone went back to their games and drinks and fondling. It was as if nothing had happened at all.
Kerrigan was still furious. And her fury went deeper than how stupid Clover had been, but it was the only thing that she could fix.
Dozan arched an eyebrow at her. “Shall we?”
She huffed and then strode away. Upstairs meant Dozan’s office, and she had been there enough times to know the way. She didn’t want to sit back and wait for him to escort her. But he kept an easy pace with her anyway.
“This cloak,” he said for her ears only, “where did you get it?”
She glared at him. “I borrowed it.”
“It has the sigil of the House of Shadows on it.”
“So?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. If he was going to ask questions, she would make him work for his answers.
But Dozan gave nothing away. Just released the scrap of material. She didn’t look back as she climbed the stairs that led to the king of the Wastes’ residence.
A guard stood outside Dozan’s office and glared at her. But Dozan swept his hand to the side. The guard allowed the three of them to enter.
Kerrigan dropped into a chair as soon as they entered, but Clover hovered in the corner, as if she were waiting to get in trouble with a teacher in primary care.
“Have a seat, Clover,” Dozan said as he folded easily into a massive chair behind his equally massive desk.
Clover gulped and then took a small wooden chair across from Kerrigan. “Ker… I…”
“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” Dozan said. “Why are you two fighting on my gambling floor?”
“She was arrested,” Kerrigan spat. “She was arrested by the Society Guard.”
Dozan raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t act like he hadn’t known. “She seems to be here and fully intact.”
“I escaped,” Clover cut in.
“No, you didn’t!” Kerrigan roared, coming to her feet. “I let you go. I was there. I saw what had happened, and I went against Society order to get you out of there.”
Clover’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” Kerrigan shook her head. “I cannot believe you were protesting the very ceremony I was attending.”
“We weren’t protesting the ceremony,” Clover said, regaining her composure. “We were protesting the tournament. It’s tyranny, Kerrigan. You know it is. It’s how they keep us subjugated. By making us think that the tournament is a festive occasion for us and then creating more dragon riders to keep us under their boot.”
“That is not true in the slightest,” Kerrigan said.