Chapter 30 Cole
Cole
When the stranger swung his attention to Cole, Mistel scampered toward the opposite street corner.
Cole thought quickly and gave his best impression of Kurtz in a fury. He increased his speed, striding past the stranger with an urgency he hoped would prove nonthreatening. “Little minx stole my coin purse, she did.”
The man’s chuckle rang out behind him. “Best of luck getting it back, mate.”
The tension melted off Cole’s shoulders as he held his brisk pace.
Until a sharp scream rang out.
Cole’s stomach dropped, and he sprinted toward the intersection, his boots hammering against the icy cobblestones. He rounded the corner and skidded to a stop where Mistel stood facing a shadowed figure.
Cole drew his sword and yelled, “Leave her alone!”
Mistel jumped, clearly startled by Cole’s sudden presence, but she didn’t step aside or run toward him. “It’s all right,” she said breathlessly. “It’s only Master Crow.”
Which didn’t exactly set Cole at ease. He eyed the blind bloodvoicer warily. The man’s milky, unfocused eyes were without their bandage tonight. Cole sheathed his sword, willing his breathing to slow as he checked the shields around his mind. He hoped Mistel had done the same.
“Ah,” Crow said, his head tilting as though he were studying them. “I’m not surprised to find Master Tanniyn so nearby the lovely Miss Wepp. He does take your safety quite seriously, does he not?”
Mistel beamed at Cole. “He does indeed.”
“What an unexpected delight finding the two of you prowling about the Fisherman’s Quarter at this hour,” Crow said.
Cole jumped in with a quick defense. “We weren’t—”
“Skyfire,” Mistel said. “We came to see the skyfire as we were told it’s quite romantic. I’m sorry you cannot see it, Master Crow. The reds and oranges are breathtaking.”
Romantic? Cole’s face burned. Thankfully, Mistel kept her gaze fixed upon the old man.
Crow chuckled, the sound low and phlegmy. “Romantic, is it? I wouldn’t know. I’ve only seen skyfire through the eyes of others, and that’s been over a dozen years ago now. I don’t suppose either of you would share your vision with an old, blind man?”
Cole stiffened. “I’m afraid not, Master Crow.”
“No, thank you,” Mistel added, a slight tremor to her voice.
Crow hummed, leaning on the cane he carried. “Curious how this romantic skyfire led to such a loud scream. What happened, girl? Did you find the romance overwhelming?”
The flush in Cole’s face crept down his neck. Overwhelmed by romance…What did the old man think Cole had done? If Kurtz had heard that comment, he’d tease Cole for months.
“We were headed back to fetch our horses from the stables at the Tipsy Taproom when Cole realized he dropped a glove,” Mistel said. “I was waiting here for him when something scurried by. A rat, I think.”
“It’s my fault, really,” Cole added.
The blind man chuckled again. “You best head back before the romance—or the rats—get the better of you. The Fisherman’s Quarter is no place for young folk after dark.”
Cole and Mistel exchanged a look, then muttered their goodnights to Master Crow.
Once they were out of earshot, Mistel looped her hand around Cole’s arm and said, “That was terrifying.”
“Proof we shouldn’t have come down here without Kurtz,” Cole said. “I wonder what happened to him and Lady Viola?”
“Oh, I think we did all right for ourselves,” Mistel said. “I heard you tell that man I stole your coin purse. That was quick thinking.”
“Why did you run after that wagon, anyway?” Cole asked.
“Because of the runes.” Mistel told him of the symbols painted on the side of the wagon holding the boars.
“Runes of concealment,” Cole said. “Which means no bloodvoicer can see what’s in Thusk’s wagons. Good eye, Mistel. That’s a fascinating discovery.”
Mistel beamed and bumped her shoulder against his arm. “Thank you.”
“It could be that Thusk is transporting prisoners from Cliffwatch in one of his wagons. But is he helping them escape? Or is he selling them?”
“The latter is too horrible to think about,” Mistel said.
It certainly was. They reached the Tipsy Taproom and headed into the stables. “Let’s not talk about it until we reach Fat Vandy’s,” Cole said. “These streets have ears.”
They rode in silence all the way to Fat Vandy’s, and only when Cole had unsaddled Bart and was brushing him down, did he circle back to the topic.
“I wonder if there’s a rune that counteracts the concealment ones,” he said. “Or if we were to erase the concealment runes or paint over them, would that end their magic?”
“Who could know?” Mistel said.
“Madam Vinzen would,” Cole said, thinking of the old Magosian priestess who’d helped him catch an assassin. “Maybe Achan could send Trizo to ask her.”
When Cole had left Armonguard, Madam Vinzen’s son, Dewin Sessit, had finally awakened after having been stormed by Atul Shakran, the man who’d killed Mistel’s roommate and tried to assassinate the king and queen.
“I think she’d help us after all we did to help her.” Cole gave Bart one last swipe with the currycomb, knocked the hair from it, and put it away. “All done. Want me to walk you inside before I go?”
Mistel grabbed his hand and tugged. “I don’t want you to go at all. Stay and have some dinner.”
“We had lunch before we left, and I had several bites of Madam Raven’s fish soup.”
Mistel wrinkled her nose. “That smelled awful.”
“It wasn’t bad.”
She laced her fingers with his, and he liked how small and slender her hands were, even through both layers of their gloves.
“Tell me about that girl,” she said. “The one you wrote about in your song.”
Cole thought back to the songs he’d played most recently. “What girl?”
“I saw her,” Mistel sang, “at the fountain in front of the castle. She wore red. Had a flower in her hair.”
A shiver ran up Cole’s spine. “Oh. That girl.” Back in Armonguard, Mistel had once asked Cole to play her something he’d written. He’d sang the first verse of a song about a girl he’d known in Mitspah.
“You said she wasn’t who you thought she was,” Mistel prompted.
He couldn’t help but frown, wondering what had made Mistel think of such a thing. “Nya was the marshal’s daughter, back in Mitspah.” His lungs felt tight, like he wasn’t bringing in enough air.
Mistel rubbed her thumb on the back of his hand. “Tell me about her.”
Why would she ask that? “There’s not much to tell,” he said. “We weren’t a good match.”
“Why not?”
Because she’d been ashamed of him. “She ran ahead of me on everything. And she never asked permission.”
“What do you mean?”
He rolled his shoulder. “She made up stories. Once insisted I walk with her to a gathering at a house outside the stronghold. She introduced me by saying, ‘This is Master Harlen. Isn’t he dashing? He’s training to be a knight, will likely join Father’s men soon.
’ Then all night she called me Master Harlen.
I was completely bewildered. When I asked her about it, she laughed and said it was only a game. ”
“How odd,” Mistel said.
Odd wasn’t the half of it, but Cole wasn’t about to admit the full truth about Nya.
She’d insulted him. “You look ridiculous in those rags.” Forced him to wear her father’s clothing.
“Here, put on this tunic.” Bossed him. “Stand straighter. No one will take you seriously if you slouch like a servant.” And perhaps worst of all, she’d complimented and berated him in the same sentence.
“I picked you because you’re handsome. When you say such stupid things, you make me regret choosing you. ”
“I don’t think she liked me at all. Just wanted someone to order around.”
“Was she pretty?”
“Yes,” Cole admitted.
Mistel huffed. “You’re supposed to say no.”
He chuckled, liking the way her lips twisted in that little pout. “She wasn’t nearly as pretty as you.”
“I should hope not.” Mistel tucked his hand behind her back, then reached around his neck. His pulse shot up at her nearness. “She sounds like a fool.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” Mistel said, scratching her fingers through his hair.
“You’re a fascinating, creative, thoughtful person.
I’ve never heard anyone write words so deep and raw and honest. When you sing, Cole Tanniyn, you take me back in time, to the future, to the top of mountains and the bottom of the sea.
Your words call out to something deep and ancient, a longing for more in this broken world. You move me. Inspire me.”
Cole grinned. When Mistel started complimenting him, he knew exactly what she was after. A kiss. Why that amused him so much, he couldn’t say.
But no one was here. No one would know. And he wasn’t about to make her beg.
He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. “Goodnight, Mistel.”
“Goodnight, Cole.” She beamed, her smile revealing her overbite.
He walked her inside, then headed back to the Ivory Spit.
As he rode Cherix through the cold night, his thoughts churned.
The boars in that wagon hadn’t been the evidence they’d hoped for.
If anything, it made their suspicions harder to prove.
But the runes had been a good clue, as had the note from Madam Raven about Drustan threatening her daughter.
And Cernell Crow…his presence at the docks was more unsettling than Cole cared to admit.
Yet it was Mistel’s scream that returned to him over and over. The fear that had ripped through him when he’d heard it, the desperate relief he’d felt when he’d found her unharmed.
He pulled his cloak tighter around himself as the truth settled in his chest like a weight.
He loved Mistel Wepp.
He shouldn’t be surprised. She was a goddess, a firebrand, a friend, and an incredible musician. Who wouldn’t love her?
And yet, love felt dangerous.
The first time Cole had kissed Mistel, he’d thought he’d made a mistake. He’d feared that once she truly got to know him, she’d grow bored, find him lacking, just as Nya had. But Mistel wasn’t like Nya. She only seemed to like him more with each passing day.
Still, if Nya had taught him anything, it was that loving someone meant giving them the power to wound him, to humiliate him. He wasn’t sure he could survive being cast aside by Mistel.
Yet he also knew he couldn’t live without her.
Her laughter, her boldness, the way her presence brightened a room, it had all slipped past his defenses before he’d even realized he’d lowered them.
He probably shouldn’t have kissed her tonight.
Why was it so easy to forget himself where she was concerned?
And what if he gave in to this thing with her and she ultimately decided he wasn’t enough?
Worse yet, what if his feelings for her compromised the mission?
Drustan and Nash already knew they’d lied about being cousins.
If others found out, too, everything would unravel. Could he afford that risk?
Cole’s grip tightened on the reins as Cherix plodded through the quiet streets. Failing Mistel—failing the team—that’s what truly terrified him.