Chapter 19
19
I could tell who wanted to be seen in a city and who didn’t. I’d hunted enough to know the shift of eyes, the casual stroll that matched the pace of others, rather than one set without purpose. The twins had done a fairly decent job of blending in, though he checked the time on his pocket watch frequently as they moved. The streets of the city were busy and bustling, but I passed through with ease.
The Silk streets were different. There was never a break in the towering stone buildings. They lined the cobble streets like walls, with shop doors every twenty paces, luring in the rich. There were passes through the rows of buildings like very narrow alleyways, where a broad man could reach both of the buildings on either side with little effort. The alleys were a labyrinth on their own. I couldn’t tell what would be on the other side until I walked down the steep steps they enclosed or around the winding corners.
Because the buildings were so close, once we passed a metal ladder, I pulled myself onto the roof. Crouching low, I crept to the edge, peering down at the bustling street. They’d stopped, seemingly for no reason, in the midst of the crowd.
A young boy darted out from a side street, weaving through the throng of people with practiced ease. He collided with Harlow, stumbling back. In that brief moment of contact, a flash of fabric passed from his hands to hers. Harlow quickly unfurled the bundle, revealing a dark, hooded cloak. She swung it over her shoulders, fastening the silver clasp at her throat. The cloak shimmered, the color shifting to match the hues of her dress, blending seamlessly.
No sooner had Harlow donned the cloak than another child, a scrawny girl with a shock of red hair, barreled into Archer. The girl mumbled an apology, pressing something into his palm before melting back into the crowd. Archer’s fingers curled around the crowbar before he tucked it into his jacket, his eyes darting around to ensure no one had noticed the exchange. With a subtle nod to Harlow, they split up, each taking a different route forward.
I followed Harlow from above, leaping over the narrow alleys with a dancer’s grace. She moved with purpose, her cloak rippling like liquid shadow as she navigated the crowded thoroughfare. The further into the heart of the city they got, the more Cimmerians I saw. All broad, cloaked and masked, all standing sentinel, watching over Stirling like it was prey.
Harlow stepped off the narrow sidewalk and into the street. She’d kept an eye on the clock tower looming above, because whatever they were planning, the timing must’ve been specific. She slowed her pace, walking carefully on the uneven street, gripping the edges of her cloak as she walked.
Behind her, a carriage adorned with intricate gold filigree zipped down the street, far too fast. Two large, burly men rode on the back of the carriage, guarding the chests that’d lined the tables at Tithe.
Good Gods. Were they going to try to steal the tax money from the prince? What an asinine, ridiculous… Harlow was way too close. I crouched lower, my breath catching in my throat as I nearly screamed for her to move. But with practiced steps, she seemed to be timing the approach.
The carriage slowed and a man on the seat in front shouted at her to get out of the way. She spun wide, flicking her cloak so it billowed around her. The second it passed, the tip of her cloak snagged on the wagon wheel and Harlow began screaming, clutching her throat where the clasp was far too tight. I leaped to my feet, no longer worried about being caught, as I dashed to the edge of the roof, ready to jump. Seconds before considering if I could fall so far and not break every bone in my body, I caught a glimpse of Archer sneaking out from the alley.
He darted behind the carriage, his movements quick and precise. He pulled the crowbar from his jacket and wedged it beneath a gleaming gold ornament adorning the carriage’s rear. With a grunt, he tried to pry the piece loose, but it wouldn’t budge.
I scanned the surrounding streets, my heart pounding. Two imposing figures in dark cloaks rounded the corner, their strides purposeful and menacing. Cimmerians. They were heading straight for the commotion caused by Harlow’s nearly flawless distraction.
Realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. The third person, Willard… he was meant to be the lookout. Without him, Harlow and Archer were flying blind, unaware of the guards.
Glancing around, I spotted a stack of crates piled in the alley below. I leaped from the rooftop, landing on the crates with a muffled thud. The wood creaked beneath my feet but held firm. Just as I was about to dart into the street and warn them, a hand reached out and grabbed me, yanking me off the wooden crates and sending me crashing into the alley.
“Don’t,” Thorne snarled. “It’s too late. You’ll just end up caught with them.”
“Some friend you are, sitting back while they get caught.” I hissed, jumping to my feet, and dashing away. Consequences be damned. I heard him curse behind me as he followed.
“I just got here,” he said as I ran through the narrow space. “Come back.”
“I’ve never been good with orders,” I called over my shoulder.
Bursting out of the alley, my heart pounding, I raced towards Harlow and Archer. The Cimmerians had to be closing in, but I couldn’t see them from the street. Only the chaos as Harlow struggled with her trapped cloak, and Archer hadn’t moved, still undetected on the side of the carriage. Thorne was hot on my heels, his footsteps echoing behind me. He dashed past, his movements a blur as he snatched the crowbar from Archer’s grasp and wedged it beneath the ornament with a forceful shove. The gold piece popped loose with a satisfying crack.
I winced, confident the men with Harlow on the other side of the carriage would have heard it, but her commotion was loud enough to drown it out as Thorne and Archer hustled back into the alley. I ran to Harlow, shoving past the men, and yanked on the end of her cloak, now wrapped in the wheel. “How many times have I told you it’s dangerous to walk in the streets?” I stared at her, letting my eyes flick the corner. The Cimmerians would be coming any second now.
She glared, but choked out an answer. “Too many.”
I reached forward, releasing the clasp at her throat. “I’m so sorry about my friend,” I told the men. Harlow stumbled back, rubbing her throat as she caught her breath. I grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the carriage and the gathering crowd.
“We’re not worried about the cloak. If you want to use your dagger there to cut it free, that would be so helpful.”
“You sure? Miss Bramwell?” one of the men asked, looking up at the clock tower and back to Harlow. “We can try backing up the carriage.”
“No, no. It’s not sentimental,” she said. “I can tell you’re in a hurry.”
The man nodded, taking out his dagger and slicing through the cloak with a quick, clean cut.
“We need to go,” I whispered urgently, my eyes darting to the corner where the Cimmerians would appear any moment. “Now.”
Harlow gasped as understanding dawned on her face and she gave a quick nod. Together, we hurried down the street, away from the commotion. We ducked into the nearest alley, pressing our backs against the rough stone wall as we listened for any signs of pursuit.
“What were you thinking?” she hissed, her voice low and angry. “You were supposed to go back. If Thorne finds out…”
“I was trying to help. The Cimmerians were coming. You needed a third as a lookout.”
“We were… It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here.”
We darted through the alleyways, taking twists and turns to throw off any potential pursuers. My heart pounded in my chest as adrenaline coursed through my veins. Finally, we reached a shadowed alcove and ducked inside, pressing ourselves against the damp stone walls.
“My brother,” Harlow huffed. “Did he make it out?”
Before I could respond, two figures emerged from the shadows. Thorne and Archer strode towards us, their faces grim. Archer held up the gold ornament, its surface glinting in the faint light.
“Got it,” he said, his voice low. “But we cut it too close.”
“It’s the right one?” she asked, swiping the piece of gold he’d pried off the carriage and shoving it into the folds of her dress without examining it.
Thorne stepped forward, his coat accentuating the width of his shoulders in the narrow alley as he scowled. “Where was Willard?”
Harlow met his gaze defiantly, her chin tilted up. “He must have lost track of time. You know he wouldn’t abandon us intentionally.”
Thorne scoffed, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair. The action drew my attention to his hands. A glint of metal caught my eye, and I noticed a new ring adorning his left hand, sitting boldly on his wedding finger.
“Lost track of time?” Thorne repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “If it weren’t for Paesha, you two would have been caught.” He turned, glaring at me. “And she was not supposed to be here. In fact, I explicitly forbade it.”
Somehow I managed to speak, though my jaw hung open. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t start,” he answered.
I moved to Harlow’s side. “There are exactly three people in the world that can forbid me from doing something. And I hate to break it to you, prick, but you are not one of them.”
“Please share their names so I can hunt them down and beg them to talk some godsdamn sense into you.”
“Me, myself and I. And as it turns out, we’re booked for the next century.” I spun, walking all the way down the alley before I pulled my hand from my pocket, lifting the golden ornament I’d just stolen from Harlow. “The next time you experts want to steal something, keep a better grip on it.”
I thought I’d won that spat. Outsmarted a group of people that had clearly been raised to believe they were better than everyone else. But that was a fleeting thought as someone from far behind me answered. “What exactly have we stolen today?”
I should have felt him before I heard him, but I’d never be able to hunt the Cimmerians unless I saw them unmasked. Some had touched me, but that wasn’t enough. Sight and touch were both required. My power had failed me, and I’d just given us all away.
My soul rattled with fear. Suddenly, I was just a woman, hanging from a ceiling by her arms while a plethora of robed figures surrounded me, taunting me, whipping me. Archer’s sharp whistle that ricocheted off the looming buildings broke the spell of fear over me. I could not and would not let them break me now. I needed to focus if I didn’t want to end up back in the Maw, alongside these people that had a community of unfortunate people depending on them.
I spun without answering the Cimmerian and hustled back toward the others. Thorne seemed to grow in size, as if every muscle in his body went taut, every corded vein aware of the danger aimed directly for us.
“That mouth of yours is going to be the end of us,” he snarled.
“Thorne.” Archer’s whisper was hardly audible but warranted. Another Cimmerian had come around the other opening, puffs of his breath clouding his black mask as if they’d been designed to intimidate.
The two guards closed in on us, and Harlow’s panting breaths grew in response. With nowhere to run, we reluctantly stood still, knowing we were being sandwiched between two of the prince’s men in a narrow alley with no chance of escape.
“Falling on hard times, Thorne Noctus?” The Cimmerian’s tone was anything but inquisitive as he spat Thorne’s name.
“Surely it’s not a crime to steal a punchline to a joke,” he answered, melting into a relaxed stance as he faced off with the guard who’d closed the distance. “Perhaps a little context before you start making assumptions.”
The Cimmerian clasped his hands behind his back. “If that’s true, then certainly you wouldn’t mind me searching your wife? One can never be too careful these days.”
Hands buried into my pocket, I wrapped my fingers around the golden bauble stolen from the carriage, wondering what the hell I was going to do with it. “Shouldn’t you ask for my consent?”
The other one laughed, the sound muffled by the metal clinging to his face. “We don’t need permission.”
I hated how scared I was of them. How hard it was to look at them and not feel every heartbeat rattling through me. But if they could sense my fear, they would only grow more persistent. More aggressive. So, I let my fear wrap around me like a shield, a mask. I stepped forward, glaring at the guard closest to Archer. “You put your fucking hands on me, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”
Everything after that was a blur. The guard rose to the challenge, coming for me. I swept around Harlow, dropping the stolen item back into her pocket undetected, pretending to cower from the man. But Thorne didn’t know the plan, so when the second the Cimmerian put his hands on me, my fictitious, irrational husband grabbed the Cimmerian around the throat and slammed him against the wall.
As he slid to the frozen ground, Archer flicked his arm and the crowbar he’d been hiding up his sleeve slid free. I snagged Harlow’s hand, forcing her to move just in time for her brother to take a solid swing. But he missed, and the remaining Cimmerian lashed out, snatching the end of the weapon and yanking Archer toward him.
Heart racing and without a thought, I let go of Harlow and spun around the guard before Thorne could catch me, kicking him right in the back of the knee. He stumbled forward. Archer yanked the crowbar free and tossed it toward Thorne. With a single slice through the air, he cracked the man on the back of the head, and the guard fell onto his brother-in-arms.
Thorne gripped my hand and yanked me toward him, away from the men that lay in the alley. “We need to leave. Now.”
“You can’t be serious.” I stepped away to face him. “They’ve seen your faces. There’ll be a hundred of these fuckers at your door as soon as they wake up and you know it.”
His brows knit together. His fingers tightened on the crowbar. Just when I thought he’d fight me, he sighed and turned to Archer. “Take watch on that end. Harlow take the other.”
Their fading footfalls were nothing compared to the chokehold of fear pulsing within me as I prayed to every God I didn’t know to grant us a few minutes to escape this. Thorne whipped his coat back and drew a dagger from his belt.
“Wait!” I put my hand on his wrist. “I know we don’t have much time, but we should take their robes and masks. Maybe we can use them later.”
The look he gave me, the way those eyes scrutinized me, was not something I was proud of. “Are you planning for more chaos, Paesha darling?”
“Preparing is not the same as planning. Now, hurry up. We can’t waste time.”
The Cimmerian guards were no more than men. Though a strange mark branded their forearms, beyond that, they were just someone’s son. Someone’s husband. Someone’s friend. Or maybe they used to be. But as Thorne’s blade sliced their necks, as they lay in a puddle of blood, they were no more menacing than any other.
We raced down the alley toward Harlow. Archer vanished into the streets on the opposite end and rejoined us moments later as we casually strolled along the Silk roads as if nothing had happened. As if Harlow and I weren’t both hiding the infamous robes and masks of two dead men in the alley.
“Archer,” Thorne said below his breath when the passersby thinned.
“I know,” Archer answered, flipping his favorite coin in the air. “I agree.”
“The Lord of the Salt?” Harlow asked, her pretty blue eyes flashing to my side as she adjusted the gold moth pin in her hair.
I tried not to react at all. I didn’t hold my breath or look at their faces. I simply walked on, clenching my teeth as I held my composure, hoping like hell one of them would say something of value. But I did not expect Thorne’s next words.
“It’s time for my new wife to pay him a little visit.”