“Many humans still follow the way of the Laments, but after the protests and riots five years ago, so much of it has had to go underground or on the outskirts of town. Human religions aren’t welcome in such public places in Kinkadia. They draw the wrong kind of attention. There are small Lament churches on the outskirts of town. None quite as grand.”
Fordham looked perplexed. She wondered more and more what it had been like to live his life in the House of Shadows. By his reaction, he clearly didn’t have much interaction with humans.
Kerrigan tilted her head away from the church and stopped in front of a food cart. She ordered two meat pies and tossed coins to the seller. She passed one to Fordham, who took a tentative bite before his eyes doubled in size.
“What is this?” he asked.
She laughed. “Magic.”
He finished his pie in two more bites and went back for two more.
“I see you’re a fan.”
He finished off the next one in record time. “You were not lying about this.”
“Nope. The best damn pie in the city. Shredded quail meat with just a hint of spice. I don’t know what he does, but it’s the best.”
Fordham ate the third pie slower than the first two as they walked around the square. There were chocolatiers and candlemakers and cheese vendors. A glassblower was showing off her latest creations. A skilled blacksmith worked before a forge. Anything and everything a person could want was for sale in the Square. Only the finest quality and generally a few extra coins more than outside of the Square, but she figured for the experience and the quail meat pie, it was worth it.
“All right, we have veered off course enough. Where was his body found in comparison to this?” Fordham asked. “I cannot think that a dead body would be easily concealed in this neighborhood.”
“No,” she agreed, coming back to reality. This was about Lyam, not about gallivanting around the city with one wicked prince. “He was found in the Dregs, near the Wastes.”
“The Dregs… that sounds pleasant.”
“It’s a nickname for the neighborhood, but no one actually calls it Glenwoods,” she said with an eyeroll.
After a twenty-minute walk, it became completely transparent why no one called the neighborhood by its given name, instead going by the Dregs. The street grew narrower and narrower. A smell lingered in the air, as if sewage waste were still being thrown into the streets or there were too many taverns with customers vomiting and pissing nearby. Instead of Fae dressed in their best, musicians playing on the streets, and dances breaking out, there were taverns, taverns, and more taverns. Mostly humans, half-Fae, and some poor Fae lived in these parts. They walked quickly with their heads down, hastening to another job because most had more than one here.
Fordham’s brows came together, the deeper they walked into the Dregs. He was still in his crisp black-and-silver attire. She should have told him to wear something less conspicuous, but it was too late now.
He said nothing as Kerrigan led the way with ease, stopping when she reached the intersection the guard had given her earlier that day. It was a darkened alcove running off the main thoroughfare of the Dregs. She didn’t remember whether or not she had walked down this street the night of the ceremony. She had been in such a hurry that she’d all but run the entire way. None of her movements came back to her.
“This it?” he asked, stepping into the alley.
“Yes. This is what the guard said.”
She followed Fordham down the length of the alley. She tried to see what it must have been like at night, walking down this darkened cove. It was near a tavern, but everything was in this part of town. The alley opened on both sides. Not exactly great concealment for a robbery.
Fordham stooped down near a pile of refuse and prodded it around.
She wrinkled her nose and came over to look. “Anything?”
He pointed to the left. “Blood. From what I can see, he was stabbed here.” He pointed at a footprint that she’d missed completely. One foot had landed in the dirt. It was mostly gone already. “And fell backward into the garbage, where he bled out.”
Kerrigan shivered at the thought. “They left him in the garbage?”
“Appears so.” Fordham rummaged through the trash and came out with a small gold chain. “This look familiar?”
Kerrigan’s jaw dropped. “That’s Lyam’s compass.”
“Looks like he might have had it out or was fiddling with it when it happened. Dropped it into the garbage before… whoever did this could get to him.”
He passed it to Kerrigan, and she held it reverently.
“So… do you think it was a robbery?” she asked, eyes wide.
He stood from where he had been digging through the dirt. “I’m not sure. If it was done quickly in the middle of the night, a robber might have seen the glint of his compass and come after him.”
“But then why wouldn’t they have taken it?”
“Why indeed?”
Kerrigan sighed in frustration. More questions. No answers. “This feels like a dead end.”
“At least you got his compass back.”
She bit her lip. “Yes, thank you for that.”
He nodded but remained silent as she turned away from him and pressed the compass against her chest. Lyam was really gone. He was gone, and she would never know who had killed him. Never know if her hunch was correct because this was a dead end and she had no more moves. And gods, she shouldn’t even be worrying about this right now. She had to figure out what to do about a tribe. She only had three weeks now before this was all over, and then she would have to give up on the life she had always wanted.
She loosed a breath and turned back to Fordham. “Why are you helping me?”
“I already told you,” he said stiffly.
“Yeah, a favor for a favor. But you’ve been nothing but cruel to me since you arrived. I wouldn’t think you’d want to sully yourself with my presence.”
“You helped me despite my behavior toward you,” he said coolly. “Why shouldn’t I help you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t figure you out.”
“Perhaps you should cease trying.”
Kerrigan huffed. “Fine. Do we have time for one more stop?”
“After you,” he offered.
“Breaking and entering was not on my list of things to do today,” Fordham growled low behind her.
“Mine either,” Kerrigan said as she twisted the handle and heard it open with a satisfying click.
“Remind me again why you’re doing this.”
“Ellerby was supposed to pick me for his tribe. We’d had it worked out for months,” she explained, pushing the door open slightly. Then, she waved him in behind her. “He was there the day of my ceremony, and then right before my turn, he just left.”
“So?”
“So, it’s suspicious. And I want to ask him why.”
“So, you’re breaking into his home?” he asked in dismay.
“Someone should be here. Why didn’t anyone answer?”
“Maybe he’s out?” Fordham suggested reasonably.
Kerrigan rolled her eyes. “Ellerby?” she called into the house from the small foyer.