If Teague wanted her dead, there was nothing Sebastian could do to stop him.
He didn’t have magic. He didn’t have weapons that could work against the fae. He had brute strength and fighting skills, but none of that mattered when your enemy had only to speak a single word to tear your world apart.
What Sebastian did have, however, was the princess herself. She was smart, resourceful, courageous, and determined—not to mention sneaky when she had to be. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t stop Teague the way he could stop challengers in east Kosim Thalas, but the princess didn’t rely on traditional weapons and situational awareness. She didn’t approach problems as if the right fighting stance would decide the outcome.
Ari gathered information from every source she could find and trusted herself to reach the right conclusions. She made multiple plans of attack. She acted decisively, but could brazen it out if a plan went sideways. And it never occurred to her that failure might be an option.
She’d warned him when they first met that she was relentless.
She’d been telling the truth.
Sebastian had no idea how they were going to ruin Teague; but he had confidence in his princess, and when she needed his strength and his skills, he’d give them to her.
Rising after another night of restless sleep and half-remembered nightmares, Sebastian washed, dressed, and followed the scent of cinnamon bread and frying bacon to the kitchen. Maarit was sitting at the table, slicing an apple into thin pieces, her fingers fumbling to hold the fruit steady. The princess hovered over a skillet of bacon on the stove, and Sebastian paused in the doorway just to look at her.
She wore a plain blue dress today, and the way it traced her curves did strange, dizzying things to his head. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat on the stove, and her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun that looked in danger of coming undone.
He wanted it to come undone.
He wanted her thick, gorgeous hair to fall down her back. He wanted her to give him that shy, secret smile she got when he stood close to her. And, stars help him, he wanted to touch her.
He wanted to see if he could hold her without bracing for pain. If the scars on his back would ache, or if the crashing sea of panic inside him that seemed to gentle when she was near would subside completely. But mostly he wanted to touch her because being with her felt like finding the answer to a question he’d been asking all his life.
“Well, look who finally decided to join us,” Maarit said as she clumsily popped an apple slice into her mouth.
Ari turned, her face lighting up in welcome when her eyes met his. His heart beat faster, and he ignored Maarit as he joined the princess.
“Are you hungry?” she asked as she flipped the bacon and then turned to cut thick slices off a loaf of bread with a cinnamon-sugar crust.
“Very,” he said, looking at the tendrils of hair that had escaped the bun and were clinging to the back of her neck.
“I’ve made bacon, poached eggs, and cinnamon bread, but I can whip up something else if you’d rather.” She turned to face him, her cheeks still flushed. “What would you like?”
His gaze slid from her eyes to her lips, and he was in danger of saying something incredibly stupid like you, but Maarit snapped, “Just put food on a plate and eat it already. The boss has a list of things for you to do today, boy.”
“Your mood would greatly improve if you’d eat some of this bread,” Ari said, pointing the bread knife at Maarit before turning back to dish up the food.
Maarit ignored her. “The trade summit starts tomorrow. The boss will be gone all day. Maybe into the night if some of the new debtors he gains tomorrow want to take a look at the goods he can ship to their kingdoms. He’s out checking the warehouse inventory now. He wants you”—she pointed one shaky finger at Sebastian—“to collect everything the street bosses have in storage from this week and bring it to the south warehouse.”
Sebastian took the plate Ari offered, his fingers brushing hers. She smiled at him, but there was something underneath it—a sadness that hadn’t been there when he’d seen her yesterday before she went to the market with Teague.
Leaning down to grab a fork, he whispered, “Are you all right?”
She gave a barely imperceptible shake of her head, and Sebastian frowned at Maarit. He didn’t want to leave the villa until he knew what was wrong with the princess—beyond the fact that she was trapped here with the threat of losing her soul while Teague prepared to make puppets out of the high-ranking nobility in kingdoms across the land—but she wasn’t going to tell him anything with the housekeeper in the room.
“You said Teague left a list?” he asked as he set his plate on the table and sat facing Maarit.
“Already told it to you.” She fumbled with another apple slice, dropped it, and then struggled to pick it up with her trembling hands. Ari set her plate beside his and reached across the table to retrieve the apple slice for Maarit.
“Are you feeling well?” she asked the older woman. “You seem off today. Maybe you need to drink some of that magic fae tea.”
Maarit snapped her head up to glare at the princess. “Why would I do that?”
“Because it helps heal us, and you don’t seem to be feeling like yourself.”
“Want to make me too sleepy to watch over you, is that it?”
Ari sighed. “Seriously, Maarit, a slice of bread would do wonders. If it didn’t put you in a better mood, it would at least give you something to do besides snap at me for being concerned about you.”
Maarit was silent for a moment, and then she said quietly, “You’re right. I’m not feeling well. I’ll call some of the guards inside to watch you and take the tea to my room. Don’t disturb me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ari said as the old woman shuffled from the room, her remaining apple slices lying forgotten on the table.
The moment she was out of earshot, Sebastian said, “What’s wrong?”
Ari pushed her full plate of food away and turned to face him. “I need your help.”
“Anything.”
She smiled, though her eyes were full of sadness. “Yesterday Teague took me to the market to show me that he’d burned down my favorite spice shop, along with the merchant and some of his customers.”
Sebastian’s stomach coiled with tension. Cautiously, he said, “That’s the kind of thing Teague does, though up until your brother’s coronation, he did those things in secret.”
“He burned Edwin and left him lying on the floor of his ruined shop.” Her voice was thick with tears. “He called it an object lesson.”
“I’m sorry.” Should he reach for her? Hold her hand or brush the tears from her face?
Once upon a time, he’d known exactly where the boundaries in their relationship stood. Now, he was in unfamiliar territory without a map.
She wiped her own tears and said with vicious force, “I’m going to stop him, Sebastian. And not just to free my brother and myself. He can’t be allowed to terrorize my people any longer. I’m going to stop him.”
“We’re going to stop him.” He bumped his shoulder against hers because it seemed safer than taking her hand. “What’s the plan?”
She tapped her fingers on the table and lowered her voice to a breathy whisper as they heard Maarit and some of the villa guards tromp through the front door. “The plan is to weaken him with poison, research his origins in the Book of the Fae, examine the blank contract to find a loophole if one exists, figure out why Gretel wanted me to read Magic in the Moonlight, and hire someone to go to Llorenyae and get answers on who exiled Teague and how they did it.”
“That’s a good plan. How can I help?”
Outside the kitchen, Maarit was giving instructions to the guards to keep a close eye on Ari until either Teague got home or Maarit felt well enough to leave her room again.
Ari leaned close to him, her arm brushing against his as she whispered in his ear, “There’s a bottle of bloodflower p
oison in my suite at the palace, Thad would know who to send to Llorenyae, and the Book of the Fae is waiting for me at Rahel’s bookshop.”
The guards entered the kitchen, and Sebastian whispered, “Consider it done.”
Moments later, he was riding away from the villa on the horse Teague had set aside for his use, his saddlebag full of parchment, ink, and quills—the tools he’d need to mark down the inventory from each street boss’s establishment.
He couldn’t go directly to the palace. If Teague heard of it, he’d be instantly suspicious. He could, however, send someone in his place, if he was careful.
Directing his horse west toward the market and the distant palace, Sebastian scanned the streets until he found what he was looking for. A flower girl, her basket overflowing with roses in lush colors, stood on her usual corner, hawking her wares to the early morning passersby. Pulling his horse to a stop, Sebastian dismounted and scanned the area before approaching her.
No street runners. No thieves. No one who belonged to Teague’s organization anywhere in sight.
“Good morning.” Sebastian made himself smile at the girl, even though his scars tingled as he turned his back to the rest of the street. She looked half his age, though the weariness in her eyes made her seem older. “I’d like to buy some flowers.”
“How many, sir?”
“All of them, but only if you’re able to deliver them for me. I’ll pay extra.”
She flashed him a quick grin. “If you buy the whole lot, I’ll take them anywhere in Kosim Thalas.”
Sebastian reached into the saddlebag, wrote a quick note on a bit of parchment, folded it up, and handed it to her, along with a generous amount of coin. “Take the flowers and this note to the servant’s entrance of the palace kitchen. Ask for Cleo. There’s extra coin in it for you if you get there within the hour.”
Sebastian mounted the horse and watched the girl practically run down the street toward the main thoroughfare that would lead her to the palace’s hill. Then he turned his mount east. While the girl delivered his message and Cleo figured out how to respond, Sebastian had work to do if he wanted to keep his job with Teague.
THIRTY-SIX
SEBASTIAN WORKED HARD to finish inventorying each street boss’s establishment by noon. The note he’d sent to Cleo had said he’d meet her at the pauper’s cemetery an hour past the palace’s scheduled lunchtime. He’d figured she’d need some time to make excuses for her absence to Mama Eleni, and he’d needed time to get the latest round of stolen goods entered into his ledger and then sent to the south warehouse.
Plus he needed time to make sure none of Teague’s people were watching the cemetery.
He rode past the thin iron gates that marked the entrance to the cemetery and scanned the street carefully.
Nothing.
He circled the hill, taking his time as he watched for a hint of Teague’s spies. Never mind that in all the months Sebastian had been visiting his brother’s grave he’d never once seen any of Teague’s people here.
Being cautious was the only way to keep Cleo out of danger.
When he was satisfied that the cemetery was safe, he tied his horse to the fence and began climbing the hill.
Five hundred fifty-nine stairs. Ninety-eight gravestones to the right, just past the olive tree. Sebastian climbed quickly, his scars itching at the way his back was exposed to the road.
There were a few visitors scattered throughout the rows of graves, but no one who gave Sebastian cause for worry.
Reaching Parrish’s grave, he crouched beside it and brushed grit from its surface. The summer sun warmed his back, and seabirds shrieked overhead as he sat in silence beside his brother.
The last time he’d visited, he’d been proud of his new job at the palace. Full of plans to save up his coin and get away from Kosim Thalas. Away from Father.
Now, he was working for the man who’d ordered Parrish’s death, and some days he could no longer tell the difference between how he did his job and how his father would’ve done it. He’d accessed the ruthless, rage-driven part of himself because it was the only way to survive the streets he walked. The only way to keep hunting down debtors while fending off attack after attack from those who hoped to kill him and convince Teague to give them the job instead.
He wasn’t sure Parrish would understand any of those choices.
The branches of the olive tree beside him creaked in the sea breeze, and Sebastian turned to scan the hillside.
No sign of Cleo yet. No sign of threats, either.
His brother’s gravestone sat beside him, silently accusing him of becoming someone he no longer recognized. Someone who would break a promise to his brother to save himself from having to confront their father—to keep himself safe from the darkness of the life he’d left behind—but who would then dive back into that darkness because of a girl.
Not just a girl. Because of Ari and the way she smiled when he entered a room. The way she’d insisted on treating him like an equal until he was dangerously close to believing it. Because she was comfortable with his silences and careful to give him the space to breathe.
Because Sebastian didn’t want to live in a world without Ari in it.
He traced his brother’s name and said quietly, “I’m in over my head, Parrish. You’re going to think it’s stupid, and maybe you’re going to be mad because things have changed. I’ve changed.”
Sitting back on his haunches, he watched a carriage pull to a stop beside the cemetery’s entrance. A petite girl with dark curly hair and a tall boy wrapped in a plain gray stableboy’s cloak with its hood up disembarked and entered the gate. The boy carried a sack in his hands.
Dread coiled in Sebastian’s chest. He’d told Cleo to come alone. He had no way of knowing which of the king’s new employees were loyal to Teague, and it was imperative that Teague never learn of Cleo’s involvement. Now here she was, about to meet with Teague’s top collector and hand over the only poison known to affect the fae, and she was walking up the steps with a stableboy.
No, not a stableboy. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he took in the way the boy moved up the steps with the sort of confident sense of ownership that comes to those who are born knowing they have more privileges than the rest of the world.
Stars help him, Cleo hadn’t brought a stableboy. She’d brought the king. The one other person who absolutely couldn’t be seen talking to Sebastian.
A headache throbbed behind his eyes, and he pressed his fingers to his forehead for a moment.
There were only four other people on the hillside, all over the age of sixty. None of them were paying attention to the pair climbing the stairs. It was going to be all right. It had to be.
As Cleo and the king reached the terrace that held Parrish’s grave, Sebastian stood and moved to the olive tree. When the pair reached him, he motioned toward the windswept grass.
“Let’s sit. Draws less attention from the road and makes us look like we’re mourners here to visit a grave.”
They sat, and Sebastian took a moment to study the king. His eyes were weary, and his cheekbones stood out in sharp relief. Exhaustion had left dark smudges beneath his eyes. His fingers clutched the sack he carried as if it contained the most important thing in the world to him, but Sebastian knew the truth. The most important thing in the world to the king was trapped in Teague’s villa, and living with the strain of that was destroying him.
“I told you to come alone,” Sebastian said—though he couldn’t find any anger to fuel his words.
“I insisted.” The king’s voice was a shadow of its former self—muted by grief and guilt.
“If either of you are caught talking to me, it could mean your deaths. It could mean Ari’s death, so we’ll make this quick,” Sebastian said. “You brought the poison?”
Cleo nodded toward the sack. “It’s in there, along with the Book of the Fae.”
Sebastian’s brows rose. “I didn’t ask you to pick up the book. I was going to
go get it right after this.”
“Well, now you don’t have to.” Cleo stared him down. “Besides, Rahel knows me. She didn’t hesitate to give me the book because she sees me with Ari all the time. How would you have explained your request to her without risking that either she wouldn’t give you the book or that she’d report your actions to Teague to try to gain his favor?”
He’d been wrestling with that problem himself all morning, but that didn’t stop the worry from spreading through him and sharpening his voice. “Never mind how I would’ve done it. I was trying to keep you from being seen by any of Teague’s employees.”
She sniffed. “I go to the market every week. So what if they see me doing some more shopping?”
“Do you always go shopping with the king dressed like a stableboy? Do you always ask for a book that we both know Teague would be furious about?”
“The king stayed in the carriage—”
“Did you go to other shops as well?”
“We didn’t have time,” Cleo said. “We were only there for a minute—”
“Exactly!” Sebastian’s voice frayed at the edges, and he fought to stay quiet. He couldn’t afford for his words to echo across the hillside. “You went into the market on a day when you usually wouldn’t, and instead of stopping at various shops like you usually do, you went to one specific shop, retrieved a package, and then left the market. If any of Teague’s employees noted that behavior, the shopkeeper is probably already on the way to Teague’s holding facility for questioning, and you are in deep trouble.”
He scanned the road below, taking his time, noting every shadow, every shape.
No threats.
“How is Ari?” the king asked, his expression a naked plea for reassurance.
Sebastian met his gaze as he reached for the sack that held the poison and the book. “She’s safe. She’s managed to take over the kitchen.”
Cleo laughed, and Thad’s lips quirked as if he wanted to smile but just didn’t have the energy.
The Wish Granter (Ravenspire Book 2) Page 25
