Chapter 17 #4
He leaned casually against the frame, smirking as he pushed off, then stamped out his cigar and strolled toward her. “Can I not speak to an old friend without being accused of wanting something?”
“We’re not friends and haven’t been for a long time,” she said, folding her arms.
“All the more reason to catch up.”
The smirk lingered, but Ellaryn didn’t buy it. She met his gaze. “You’re forgetting that I know you. Even as a delinquent child, you always had an alternate agenda.”
His eyes dropped, and he smiled before he glanced back up. “Maybe you’re right. I do need something.”
“What is it?” Curiosity sharpened her expression.
“I assume, after that spectacle,” he gestured towards the banquet hall, “you’ve heard about the uproar within the city.” he leaned in, one brow lifting, dark skin glistening slightly under the starlight.
Ellaryn pinched her brows together. He leaned in and whispered, “The revolution.”
Ellaryn’s eyes flicked around, making sure no one had heard him use those words.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Quite the opposite—see, I believe I am on the verge of something. Something that will land me the King’s favour, possibly even making me a commander.”
“Good for you.” She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t tell me you’re not the least bit curious.” His head tilted towards her.
“The revolution died with Magnus.” She said through gritted teeth.
“Do you really believe that?” He pinched his eyebrows together, looking down at her, eyes holding something she couldn’t quite place.
Did he know something?
“Do you have reason to believe otherwise?”
“Well, Ella—”
“Don’t call me that.” She interrupted him quickly.
“Apologies, old habits and all.” He forced a chuckle and waved dismissively. “I have a source in the city—”
“A dweller?” she questioned, and he inclined his head. “We both know any word from the streets cannot be trusted. They will say anything for coin.”
“This is different. Multiple sources all saying the same thing.”
Ellaryn stared at him, the certainty on his features. It filled her with unease. “Go on then, spill.”
“A man has been seen in the square—”
“A man?” She let out a hollow laugh. “I hate to break it to you, Damien, but there are plenty of men in Cinders—”
“Not just any man.” He interrupted. “Someone… unrecognised.”
Ellaryn’s heart stuttered, but she kept her face stern.
“Unrecognised?”
He nodded his head. “And so it got me wondering: what if this talk of revolution stemmed from somewhere, like maybe… a new face, an outsider.”
Ellaryn took a step back, her breath hitching.
Why was he telling her this?
Did he know something?
Had one of his men seen her with Xander?
“That’s impossible,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice. “The walls are impenetrable. You know that.”
“Impenetrable to people like you and me.” He took a measured step closer, gesturing between them. “I know you’re not naive enough to believe the King is the only Potential in this world.”
Ellaryn’s heart thudded harder against her ribs, though she refused to let it show.
“Okay.” She swallowed, keeping her voice even. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you’re right. Why would anyone want to break in?”
“That,” he said, taking another deliberate step towards her, “is exactly what I’d like to know.”
Ellaryn’s heart skipped at the thought of him knowing of Xander.
“Have you told the King?”
Damien shook his head. “Not yet. I want to be sure when I tell him. You know how he gets.”
She did know.
“So what do you need from me?” she asked, a faint crease forming between her brows.
“I’m leading a raid tomorrow. Door to door. See what we turn up.” His gaze flicked over her, sharp and assessing. “The guards are tough, but let’s face it. No one instils fear like you. We could use a little Ruin.” He winked, and Ellaryn cringed at the nickname but didn’t show it.
Though she could think of better things to do. She could lead them astray—act concerned, cooperative, and quietly send them hunting shadows.
“Is it sanctioned?” Ellaryn questioned. She knew better than to accept if the King did not know about it.
“Of course,” Damien answered, his eyes lingering on hers. “As far as the King is aware, we are looking for a thief.”
“What time?” she asked, raising her brow.
“First light.”
Ellaryn hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She turned toward the stairs leading down to the city.
“Enjoy your walk,” Damien called after her, picking up a chalice from the windowsill.
Ellaryn raised a hand in acknowledgement as she descended the steps, refusing to look back.
Damien took a leisurely sip of his drink before disappearing once more into the swell of music and laughter.
Only when she was several steps away did Ellaryn finally release the breath she had been holding. It left her in a long, shaky exhale.
Xander hadn’t been as careful as he thought.
Someone knew—and they weren’t going to let it go.
Her heart hammered as she stumbled down the castle steps, the soft slap of her plimsolls against marble echoing through the quiet streets. Every footstep, every stray sound sent her senses spiking, but she didn’t slow.
Not now.
Not ever.
This was her chance.