“I walked out,” he said simply and then stood swiftly, tucking his book under his arm.
“Wait,” she said, getting to her feet. She reached her hand out, forcing his name out of her mouth, “Fordham.”
He strode away purposefully and her shoulders dropped in dismay. Well, scales.
Right before he reached the corridor that led down to his rooms, Fordham came to a stop and turned back to her. He was silhouetted in the opening. She swallowed.
“If you want to find out what happened to your friend, I could go with you.”
Kerrigan staggered forward a step in shock. One minute, he’d been pissed and ready to flee from her presence, and now, he was offering… this? What in the gods’ name was going on in his head?
“Why?” she blurted out. “You hate my kind.”
“A favor for a favor. You helped me in the tournament, and I will help you with this. Then we are even.”
His words were precise and severe. As if this would be the end of their bond. That helping her would close the loop. He clearly did not like the idea of being in her debt.
She watched him walk away, perplexed. Who exactly was Fordham Ollivier?
21
The Dawn
Clover
Clover hadn’t been this tired in a long time. Not since the night she had slept among the bones. A small shudder ran down her back, and she pulled out her father’s old locket. She should be asleep. Kerrigan had gone off to walk out her anxiety and fear, but Clover didn’t have the same nervous energy. Her constant companion was pain.
Even though she knew Kerrigan would kill her, she pulled out a smoke, striking a match to light it and taking a good, long drag. Instantly, her muscles relaxed, and the spasms stopped. Everything felt more like it should. More like… before.
Probably, she should finish the cigarette and then get some sleep. Dozan wouldn’t care how tired she was tomorrow when she had to deal. He’d just dock her pay for being worthless to him. Still, she couldn’t sleep.
Maybe it was the empty bed on the other side of the room. The bed that had belonged to Darby for as long as Clover had known Kerrigan. Clover had snuck in more nights than she could count and found the beautiful woman lying in her nightclothes. The white underthings brilliant against her dark onyx skin.
She teased Hadrian to death. They fought like cats and dogs. But Darby… sweet, innocent Darby, she was an entire world of different. Clover had never been able to bring herself to make that move. Not when Darby was about to be a lady in a Bryonican aristocracy’s household. Darby had been too good for Clover long before that.
Clover flopped back onto Kerrigan’s bed and put out the smoke with a sigh when a soft knock sounded on the door. She sat up real quick.
“Kerrigan? You change your mind?” she called.
The door creaked open, and there Darby stood, as if Clover had conjured her up from a dream. “Oh, Clover,” she whispered, ducking her chin to her chest. A lantern was clutched in her hand. “I didn’t… I thought—”
“Why don’t you come on in?”
“You’re sure? I was just looking for Kerrigan. I didn’t know—”
“I’m sure. She went off to wander all night. It’s almost dawn. You can come in.”
“Oh… all right,” Darby said. She stepped daintily inside and closed the door behind her. “It feels odd to be sleeping in different quarters… after living here for so long.”
Clover sat up on her elbows. “You can sleep here. I don’t mind.”
“Thank you,” Darby said.
She went about the room like it was her own, which it had been up until a few days ago. She found extra blankets and a fresh pillow and bundled up into the bed across from where Clover lay.
“Do you think she was right?”
Clover faced Darby with the lantern light between them. “Do I think Lyam was murdered?”
“He was, wasn’t he?”
“Kerrigan has good instincts.”
Darby frowned, and Clover decided right then and there that she didn’t like it one bit. “I knew we were all about to start our own lives, but I thought it would be like it was… but bigger,” she admitted. “Like we’d have this new adventure in society and still have this group we always grew up with. That was… kind of naive. I see that now.”
“Maybe a little naive,” Clover conceded. “But why shouldn’t you get everything you’ve ever wanted?”
Darby’s eyes landed on her own. Dark as midnight and as earnest as she had ever seen them. “I thought that I was getting that when Lady Sonali picked me.”
“Life doesn’t always work out the way we want it to,” Clover said, rubbing the locket and tucking it back under her shirt.
“Thank you for talking to me. I guess I wasn’t quite ready for sleep.” Darby punctuated that with a large yawn and then a tinkling laugh. “Or I was, but my brain wouldn’t shut off.”
“Why don’t you try to sleep now?”
“Would you sing to me?” Darby whispered through another yawn, her eyes already closed.
“Sing?”
“Mmm,” Darby muttered.
Clover swallowed. She hadn’t sung in a long time. Not in five years. Not since her parents had been killed. But she still remembered the tune her mother used to sing as she laid her down to sleep. She hadn’t thought of it in so long, and still, it came back to her with ease, the words following close behind.
Sleep, my little darling.
May dreams soothe and obey.
Turn the charm one, two, three times.
Don’t leave. I want you to stay.
Sleep, my little angel.
Open the heart, and I’ll appear.
Speak my name one, two, three times.
No fear. I’ll always be near.
Darby softly snored in the opposite bed before Clover finished the lullaby. It was for the better. She wouldn’t see Clover swipe at the tear that had rolled down her cheek.
Clover crept out of bed and carefully tugged the covers under Darby’s cheek. She brushed a lock of her dark hair out of her face. Then, she extinguished the lantern and crawled back into bed, trying to forget the memories the lullaby had dredged up.
22
The Disappointment
Isa
Isa dealt in death.
She enjoyed a good day of espionage like anyone, but the tip of her dagger in a warm body was preferable.
Her hard leather boots were soundless against the stones as she traipsed up to the back of the building. She could have used the front, but she’d rather less people knew who she was. A shadow in the night was more fearsome than a girl with a shock of white hair and a pretty little face. Being pretty sometimes helped get her into buildings, but more often than not, it was a nuisance. People assumed a lot about pretty girls. Namely that they were stupid and weren’t going to slit you from nose to navel for touching them. For Isa, they were wrong on both counts.
She scaled the small stone wall and landed with ease into the garden on the other side. A black mask obscured her features, but still, she drew her cloak further forward, putting her face in deeper recess. Now, she was ready.