Finally, they both straightened, and Fordham cleared his throat. “Rumors are rumors. It’s easy to pin it on me, but why in the gods’ name would I be helping you find his killer if it was going to lead you to me?”
That was a very good question.
“I said that to Audria, but I just wanted you to know.”
“I can handle myself,” he said as easily as she always did.
And she let the subject drop. She hadn’t believed Audria when she passed that rumor on to her. Kerrigan would have been more worried that she and Fordham were working together if her visions hadn’t kept pushing them together. Plus, Gelryn had told her to stay near him. Fordham surely had his own aims for joining the tournament, but it didn’t seem to have much to do with her.
After another long session in the baths, Kerrigan retreated to her room for a much-needed nap. Only two or three hours was all she was getting. It seemed prudent to try to get in as many sessions as she could. Anyway, Fordham was busy the rest of the evening and she’d already received instruction from Bastian about her role in the tournament tomorrow. A nap sounded wonderful.
But when she returned to her rooms, Clover was seated on her bed.
“Hey! What are you doing here?”
She sighed and held up a piece of paper. “Dozan has me sending missives now.”
“I thought you were a card dealer,” she said, taking the letter from her hand.
“I am, but he knows that you trust me. So, here I am.”
Kerrigan waved away the note of concern and instead broke open Dozan’s red wax seal—an arrow through a capital R.
The letter held an address and underneath that:
Tonight at midnight.
Do try not to get killed, princess.
—D.R.
She scowled at the letter. Princess. She hated everything that he called her, but princess was a joke. A stupid joke. Oh, how she regretted confiding in him all those years ago.
“What have you gotten yourself into?” Clover asked.
“There’s a weapons deal happening tonight,” Kerrigan said. Magic flared to life at her fingertips, and she burned the note to cinders.
“So?”
“So, I’m going.”
“What? Why?”
Kerrigan sighed. “Someone tried to kill me the other night. It was the same person who killed Lyam.”
Clover’s jaw dropped. “What? When were you going to tell me this? Do Darby and Hadrian know?”
“No. I haven’t told anyone yet. I wanted proof.”
“You need to tell them, Ker. They need to know.”
She nodded. “I know. I will. I promise.”
“So, how does Dozan factor into this.”
“Well, the assassin got away, and Dozan offered to help me find out who did it.”
“Dozan doesn’t offer to help people.” Clover looked worried. “What did he want in exchange for this information?”
“I agreed to do a fight… a big fight.”
Clover groaned. “You said you never wanted to be beholden to him.”
“I don’t… but this is important. Lyam’s death wasn’t an accident. No one believed me when I first said it. Not even you. But if I can get proof and take it to the Society, and then we can get justice for what happened to him.”
“Or you could die!”
“I’m not going to die. I’m bringing Fordham.”
Clover’s eyebrows rose sharply at that. “Fordham, huh? On a first name basis with the dark prince?”
“Stop it,” Kerrigan said, a flush rising to her cheeks.
“I mean, you have good taste. Dozan Rook. Fordham Ollivier. You like them big and bad with muscles and—”
“Please stop!” Kerrigan said, hiding her face. “Fordham and I are not together. I am not interested in him. He is just helping me figure out who killed Lyam.”
“And what is he getting in return?” Clover asked carefully.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t be naive. No one does anything for free.”
“I helped him with the last task. He’s returning the favor.”
“Seems like a big favor.”
Kerrigan shrugged. She wasn’t wrong. People weren’t altruistic. But this was different. “He saved my life from the assassin.”
“So, he really had no reason to be helping you. Favor already repaid.”
“Yeah. I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Maybe find out.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I, uh… should go get him, so we can make it to the drop point.”
“I wish I could go with you,” Clover said. “Dozan told me to come straight back. That he wants me on a table all night.”
“It’s better that you don’t. It’s dangerous.”
“Just because I don’t have magic doesn’t mean I’m not capable,” Clover snapped.
“I didn’t say that,” Kerrigan said quickly. “But I’d worry about you.”
Clover shrugged. “No sweat.”
“Clove, don’t.” She hated when she got defensive and retreated away from her.
“Dragons up, baby,” she said dismissively. “Come see me tonight after the weapons deal.”
“I will,” Kerrigan agreed and watched as Clover disappeared through her door.
Kerrigan ground her teeth together. That hadn’t gone how she’d wanted, but she really didn’t have time. She needed to get Fordham and get the hell out of here.
She changed into all black before heading down the competitors’ corridor. Many of the doors were open, and she glimpsed a few of competitors stretching or congregating, a few laughing together. Friends. They were friends here.
She ached for that. Darby and Hadrian had moved in with their new homes far away in the city. She missed their easy company and even Lyam interrupting them for his antics. She missed it all.
She swallowed back a lump in her throat and passed Audria’s room. She was inside, lying on her bed. Roake stood sentinel-like at the entrance. His eyes found hers, and they turned cold.
“What are you doing here again?” he asked.
“Just finding Fordham,” she muttered, uncertain of his enmity.
“Yeah, and what exactly are you two always doing together?” He suggestively raised his eyebrows, and her face flushed.
“They’re training,” Audria cut in. “Or haven’t you noticed, Roake?”
He looked back at Audria, and Kerrigan saw his whole face relax. She could see the blatant desire there.
“Why are you training with the dark Fae?” Roake asked.
“Leave her be,” Audria said. “No need to harass her for information.”
Even though she had done the same thing a few nights ago.
“Good luck tomorrow,” she told them both and then hurried away.
She knocked once on Fordham’s door.
When he didn’t reply, she entered without thinking. He sat at the small wooden desk. Papers were strewn in front of him. All of them littered with verses. She could see the rubbish bin was full of crumpled papers, discarded poems that hadn’t met his standard.