The Problem With His Focus #2
Mallas made a dismissive wave. “I didn't extend my stay to be entertained. I have to thank you properly for the assistance with the silver.” A beat passed before he clasped Caelan's shoulder. “Come to Winter. When you find the time. I'll thank you properly then.”
“Of course.” Caelan smiled, bright and genuine.
Mallas's gaze found me. His eyes trailed from my face down to the dress, the heels, and back.
“This is…?”
Caelan glanced at me. “Ah.” He gestured between us. “This is Sera. My guest from Thalvarn.”
Mallas's eyes widened. “Oh.” He straightened and inclined his head, his gold crown catching the light. “Pleasure to meet you, Sera.”
I dipped my chin politely. “Prince Mallas.”
Mallas's gaze flickered to the serpent on my arm and lingered there for a moment.
I folded my hands behind my back.
He looked back at Caelan. “I should go. It's a long ride back to Winter.”
Caelan nodded, and they clasped forearms again. This time their grip didn't linger.
Mallas was already half-turned when he looked back at Caelan and me.
“Be careful,” he said, his forehead creasing with concern. “I heard about the attempts. You should stay in Twilight where it's safe.”
Caelan's shoulder tensed. “Riven can handle it.”
Riven dropped his head once in a silent promise.
Mallas nodded and looked at me one more time before leaving the throne room.
The silence sat wrong after he left.
Then Maelor cleared his throat.
Caelan and I looked at him.
Maelor straightened with visible effort and handed a bundle of parchment to Caelan. “Security detail for the city. We're ready to move immediately.” He looked at me.
I made a face at him, which he mirrored exactly.
Caelan skimmed the report and nodded once.
Riven moved toward the door. Orders received without being spoken.
“Alright,” Caelan said to everyone in the room. “Let's go meet our witch.”
Maerith's shop was tucked into the eastern quarters.
Caelan and I walked side by side.
Riven and Maelor walked behind us, watching me with the attention that suggested they didn’t trust me in the slightest. It made me feel warm inside.
The guards were somewhere along the perimeter, pretending very hard not to exist.
The eastern quarters held the most diverse collection of shops in Twilight. None of the buildings matched. The entire district looked deliberately chaotic.
There was a dress shop several buildings away that I had trouble tearing my eyes from.
“Where’s Xander?” I asked Caelan.
“Twilight,” he answered unhelpfully.
“Obviously. But what are you planning to do with him?”
He looked down at me. “Worried?”
“Jealous?” I retorted.
He tilted his head at the sky as he considered this. “Yes.”
Behind us, Maelor groaned.
I didn’t appreciate the feeling of satisfaction that moved through my chest.
“Do you ever stop flirting?”
“No.”
He kept walking, and I had to quicken my pace to keep up with his long strides.
“I offered him employment and I keep my word.” He glanced at me over his shoulder and slowed. “He’ll be safe and taken care of if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
I considered that. However, Xander being used as leverage against me was the obvious play. But my life was already tethered to his, which should have been leverage enough. Caelan had every advantage. I had nothing.
I needed to talk to Xander. I needed to—
“That face you’re making.” His voice cut through my thoughts. “As beautiful as you look when you’re plotting against me.” He stopped walking and gestured to the shop in front of us. “We’re here.”
The street outside it smelled of dried herbs and something faintly medicinal.
Three women were leaving as we arrived. One was crying. The second had her arm around the first. The third was laughing about something.
The sign above the door read:
THREAD & TEA: Fortunes, Fates, and Minor Hex Removal.
Two Futures for the Price of One. Third Outcome Extra.
“No.” I stared at the sign.
This was the place. The covenant weaver who broke complicated blood oaths. I briefly wondered how gullible the Prince of Twilight could be and came to the conclusion of very, given this and the unreasonable salary he had agreed to.
Caelan brushed past me and pushed the door open.
Inside, it smelled like old paper and the metallic tang of residual magic.
A woman sat alone behind a narrow table, shuffling a deck of cards that looked older than the building. She took her time looking up.
Maerith had the kind of beauty you noticed immediately and couldn't explain.
Couldn't pin down which feature was doing the work.
Black hair pinned loosely, strands escaping like they had somewhere better to be.
Sun-warmed skin, gold markings running up both arms in patterns that were either decorative or functional—probably both.
Sharp angular eyes that were amber in a way that caught light like something that wasn't natural.
All of it together amounted to something that made you forget what you were about to say.
Her gaze landed on Maelor for half a second before sliding to Riven. She stayed there longer than necessary. Then moved her focus to Caelan.
Her mouth curved faintly. “Ah,” she said. “The Prince of Darkness.”
Her eyes shifted to me and sharpened. “And...”