Chapter 4
Adrian Westergren
Haru leaned in and whispered into Adrian’s ear, “Are we in the same country?”
Adrian had to admit, the exact thought had crossed his mind after he’d stepped off the train platform in Voxmore.
At least he would have admitted it if he hadn’t been busy fighting back the shivers that had threatened to consume his entire body after Haru’s warm breath danced across the shell of his ear.
The dragon had no goddamn sense of personal space.
At every opportunity, he leaned close and spoke into Adrian’s ear, crowding him so that their bodies were close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off him.
With anyone else, he would have said the person was trying to dominate or intimidate him, but not Haru.
Adrian suspected this was about seduction, and he refused to cave to him.
After he shoved all the shivers and tingles aside, Adrian focused on where they were going.
They’d taken a night express from Bellcairn to Voxmore and had woken up more or less refreshed in the small town.
Adrian’s brain skittered away from the fact that he’d woken with his head resting on Haru’s chest and an arm thrown possessively across the dragon’s waist while Haru had slept with his arm wrapped around Adrian’s shoulders.
He also wasn’t thinking about how the soft smell of jasmine had tickled his nose, drawing him in and making him rub his face into that same chest.
“I think Voxmore might not have seen the same type of New Rosanthe ‘upgrades’ that Bellcairn got after it became one of New Rosanthe’s territories,” Adrian murmured, leading the way down the cobblestone street.
Quaint red-brick buildings and neat, slender wooden buildings painted bright, cheerful colors lined either side of the road.
It was like stepping into another time. There were none of the sleek, modern buildings that he commonly saw in Stormbreak or even in the capital of the Isle of Stone.
There were also fewer cars on the road. It seemed as if everyone was taking the adorable yellow-and-white tram that followed narrow rails in the road.
Everywhere he looked, the streets were tidy. There wasn’t a scrap of trash to be seen. People walked on the sidewalks, carrying paper bags or neatly designed reusable bags filled with their shopping. They even met his gaze and smiled.
“They appear happier here. Not as suspicious,” Haru whispered.
The shiver got away from Adrian that time, and he shoved Haru, putting some distance between them as they continued.
“The capital city is also the seat of power for the country. It’s natural for New Rosanthe’s influence and control to be tightest there.
Voxmore is a very tiny town. Most people wouldn’t give it a second glance. ”
“Which must make it the perfect spot to hide a government black site,” Haru muttered under his breath.
It was a short walk from the train station to the center of town, where a fountain sent a tower of water into the air before it crashed down in a cascade across an interesting piece of art.
The fountain appeared as if it might be some sort of war memorial, but he couldn’t find a plaque explaining what it was commemorating.
Probably something New Rosanthe didn’t want the people of Damardor remembering.
Adrian pulled his heavy backpack off his shoulders and dropped it at his feet, leaving it to lean against his legs.
He gazed at his surroundings, taking in the simple, quaint buildings, shops, and homes.
Everything was peaceful and happy. The blue sky was cloudless, and the sun was warming everything, making it a typical summer day.
Adults shopped. Kids laughed. Cars zoomed.
The little tram’s shiny gold bell ting-tinged as it left each stop.
That was a problem.
Where were the seediness and filth? Where were the shadows and grimy nooks that hid the criminals and the unwanted dregs who knew all the secrets of a town? They were the people he needed to talk to. They would know where to find The Pit.
“I don’t know where to start,” Adrian grumbled.
He shoved both hands through his messy hair, tangling the long strands in his fingers.
He desperately needed a haircut and a hot shower.
His skin felt gritty and grimy from days of running and traveling.
No matter what they found, Adrian never felt like they were getting closer to Shey.
“I’ve got an idea.” Haru held out his hand and smirked. “Give me Shey’s photograph.”
Adrian hitched up an eyebrow in question as he dug out the picture and put it in Haru’s palm. The dragon darted across the street with Adrian trailing behind him, his pack banging on his spine as he rushed to keep up with Haru.
His companion stopped at a coffee shop where four older women sat at a square table. Their cups steamed with an assortment of coffee and tea, while small marble tiles with strange markings covered the table as they played a game Adrian had never seen.
“Excuse me, kind ladies. I am sorry to interrupt your game, but I’m hoping you can help my friend and me.”
Four sets of eyes behind glasses peered up at Haru.
All the women had threads of gray running through their dark hair and wrinkles stretching out from the corners of their eyes and framing their thin lips.
Adrian could imagine they were all grandmothers who met up once or twice a week to play their tile game and complain about their children and grandchildren.
And right now, with his sorrowful eyes and slumped shoulders, Haru looked like an overgrown lost child in desperate need of saving. As soon as Adrian caught on to his angle, he adjusted his own posture, hanging his head and bowing his shoulders.
“You see, our friend disappeared recently from Bellcairn, and we heard a rumor that he might have been taken to Voxmore. But we’ve never been to Voxmore, and we have no idea where to even begin searching for him.
” As Haru spoke, he unfolded the picture of Shey and held it between the two women he was standing closest to.
“If you have any suggestions, we’d be so grateful. We’re desperate to find him.”
Adrian carefully watched two of the women exchange glances while the other two inspected the picture Haru was holding out.
It suddenly dawned on him why Haru had chosen them—gossip.
They were in the heart of the city, and these four women had selected a prime spot to see the comings and goings of Voxmore’s residents.
What better way to learn the city’s most interesting and possibly darkest secrets?
One woman, with her hair pulled up in a messy bun and a couple of pencils sticking out of it, tipped her chin up and narrowed her eyes at them. “Where are you from?”
“Kastus in Uris-Oladul, not far from the Nialy Sea,” Adrian answered quickly before Haru could attempt some lie.
The old woman’s eyes narrowed further. “That would explain your accent, but not his.”
“I grew up in Zastrad, near the border,” Haru said.
It wouldn’t be a stretch to believe the people of Damardor had met travelers from Uris-Oladul, but it was well-known that people rarely, if ever, left Zastrad.
There was no way they’d be able to guess if Haru was telling the truth about his accent.
In their travels to Damardor, Adrian had run across a pair of merchants from Uris-Oladul and had practiced their accent.
Suddenly, everyone at the table took a new interest in Haru, who offered a weak, crooked grin.
“My friend and I sneaked out of Zastrad, hoping for a fresh start. We thought the universities would be better in Uris-Oladul. I’ve been trying to protect Bree ever since we left home, but I feel like I failed him so terribly by losing him in Bellcairn.
That city was more dangerous than we expected. ”
Adrian closed his eyes and swallowed hard, hoping he was giving off a look of deep sadness, when in reality, he was fighting hard not to break into snickers. This was an incredible sob story he was weaving, and Adrian did not want to ruin it.
“Oh, you poor thing,” the lady closest to Haru cooed. She handed off the picture she’d been holding to the woman on her left and lightly clasped one of Haru’s hands in hers, patting the top.
“Good grief, Gladys,” the stern woman who’d inquired about where they were from grumbled. “You believe every sad tale you hear. Next thing you know, you’ll be handing over your best earrings and bank account number.”
“Don’t be so mean, Gert. You don’t know what these boys have been through,” Gladys chided, still holding Haru’s hand.
“Mn. Yes, you could be helping nefarious thugs,” the woman holding Shey’s picture suggested. She handed it across the table to Gert and murmured, “He’s a serious one.”
Gert grunted and adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose, while her companion on her right leaned in to see it. “But handsome. Don’t forget that. He’s a handsome one.”
“They’re all so handsome,” argued the one who was holding Haru’s hand.
Of course, the dragon had to wink at the one who took the time to stroke his ego. Adrian stuffed down the desire to roll his eyes.
“Oh yes, because drug dealers could never be handsome,” the one who’d called them thugs snarked.
“No, ma’am,” Adrian cut in. “We’re not involved with drugs. It’s the entire reason Bree and Duncan got out of Zastrad. They wanted to get away from the Dead God followers and his KOD.”
A wrinkle formed on Haru’s brow, but he maintained his harmless, earnest expression.
Adrian knew the dragon wanted to ask about KOD, otherwise known as Kiss of Death.
The followers of the Dead God used the drug to achieve a near-death high that supposedly brought them closer to their god.
The only problem was that it didn’t take much for them to go from near-death to full death.