Neela

Neela

Like a day-long hangover, Ronan followed me home and then watched over me until I fell asleep.

I lay awake half the night thinking about his complete about-face. His mind-warping one-hundred-eighty-degree turn.

He seemed sincerely sorry for what he’d done to me. I’d never seen so much emotion on a fae, and it seemed genuine, coming from the depths of his heart. I was a good judge of character, which is why I liked so few people—because most of them were dicks. And I could tell when somebody was lying.

Ronan wasn’t lying. He was genuinely sorry for all the shit he’d pulled. But that didn’t make him a decent person. It made him an emotionally unstable prick with a massive guilt complex. That sounded a lot like his problem, not mine, and he’d better leave me out of it from now on.

Hopefully, he’d shift his vindictive princeling routine onto the next victim, and I could get on with finding a new life for myself in Verda.

I woke with Doug snuggled into my armpit, snuffling cutely. Her wide brown eyes popped open when I moved, and I rubbed her soft warm belly and told her to go back to sleep. She lumbered off the bed and over to Herb, who lay curled under the window sill, then they settled down together and snuffled off to slumberland.

My bracelet seemed to be giving me the day off, and I would make the most of it. I’d survived the Docklands by knowing the streets and laneways better than anybody, better than any thug chasing me, and better than the cops.

I had to do the same here. I would spend the day walking the streets, diving into alleyways, and figuring out this place. I accosted Liz in one of the downstairs living rooms, the one with green wallpaper and sofas shaped like leaves. Her hair blended into the decor.

“Do you want to come exploring with me? I’m going to walk the city until my feet blister.”

She side-eyed me. “Sounds amazing, but I think I’ll pass.”

I shoved my hands in my pants pockets. I’d found a pair of dark blue pants that looked a lot like jeans but were a million times more comfortable, made from some kind of fae fabric that was stronger and softer than spiderweb. “What could possibly be better than going on an adventure with me?”

She cocked her head. “And walking until my feet bleed? Literally anything.”

“Suit yourself, bi-atch.”

She grinned. “Oh, I always do.”

I knew the main drag of the Sensory Quarter, which was lined with bars at night and stores during the day. I wasn’t sure whether they transformed through magic or the classic magician’s trick of changing your focus, but I intended to find out. That, and everything else. Like where the cobblestone alleyways led, the best places to hide from pursuers, and the quickest way from point A to point B.

I dived down a narrow alleyway and took a few turns, expecting to land back on Piccolo Street, but I was somewhere else entirely. This would be harder than I thought—geography wasn’t playing fair.

After a few hours, I started getting the hang of it. This was just like the Docklands, but without the dirt, without the thugs, and without the danger. So nothing like the Docklands, really.

Every spare moment, I would come here to learn the ins and outs of the city. I’d only explored one small area today, and I still didn’t quite understand how three right turns didn’t bring you back to your starting point.

I sighed. The light was fading, so now was my chance to study how the stores turned into bars, but I was down some backstreet, far from anywhere I recognized. A less brave person would call herself lost, but not me: I was adventuring.

My senses had been on high alert all day, watching out for the lowlifes and thugs who skulked around the Docklands, but I hadn’t sensed any. Until now.

Darkness was thickening, and a shadowy figure was definitely following me. It had fae stealth, but I had trashbag awareness, so I could see it flitting between shadows, keeping a careful distance from me but not letting me out of sight.

Adrenaline hit my bloodstream, and my senses sharpened. This was familiar. The type of scenario that used to send me into a panic when I first hit the streets, but after years of exposure just made me slicker.

I wasn’t a stand-and-fight kind of girl, I was run-and-hide all the way.

But I didn’t know where I was. This was why I needed to learn my damn way around.

I ran blindly down the street, not caring that I was giving myself away. Predictably, the figure sprinted after me. My heart hammered, but I forced slow, regular breaths while I dashed around corners, hugging the walls, evading, dodging, and running for all I was worth.

It was no good. I was being hunted by a fae with better sight, better hearing, a better sense of smell, and better legs.

I couldn’t outrun this creature.

Where was Doug when I needed her? Although she couldn’t run fast. Ronan, then. I was desperate enough to wish Ronan was with me. He was the one who warned me about Shadow Walkers who drank from their victims at night. Is that what was following me? A Shadow Walker?

Ronan would know. Plus, he had the fae strength to defend me and the fae speed to help me hide. If he was here, I’d breathe easier.

Home. I had a home to run to, which was something new. With a final burst of speed, I rounded a corner, saw lights ahead, and heard the thumping of music and an eerie rush of air behind me.

Two more corners, then I’d be fine. My legs pumped manically, and I finally rounded the corner onto Piccolo Street. I’d never been happier to see drunk dudes stumbling and singing.

The Rose Palace wasn’t far, and I could do the whole stretch under streetlamps, but I ran anyway and didn’t stop until I passed through the pink-flowered hedge.

Liz was waiting for me in the kitchen with a scowl on her usual resting bitch face. “Have fun?”

“Yeah, I had a ball.” I rested against the table, panting, heaving.

She waved around a squished piece of paper that looked like it had been used in an Origami competition, then handed it to me. “A spellbird arrived for you.”

It was a note from Ronan informing me we had an inner power class the following day.

I scraped out a stool, hoping Liz had manifested a meal somehow. My stomach squeezed. “Great, another class with the royal bastardry.”

Liz slid me a bowl of steaming stew that smelled rich and delicious. “They’re sending you notes now? Letting you know when the classes are? That seems unusually civil. For them, I mean.”

I leaned over the bowl of stew and let the steam dampen my face. “Ronan decided he’s super sorry for being so mean in class, and can we please kiss and make up.”

“I see. And can you?”

I paused with a spoonful of stew halfway to my mouth. “No! When was the last time somebody broke your leg, and you forgave them? Or sat around watching you battle a demon, knowing you would die, and didn’t lift a finger to help? Are you in the habit of forgiving people who try to murder you just because they said sorry? I will never forgive any of them, especially Ronan. Nothing he can do will make me accept his apology. Nothing.”

Liz watched me eat silently until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I slammed my spoon onto the table. “What? Stop staring at me so judgily. Do you think I should just bat my eyelids and be his BFF?”

She rested her elbows on the counter, her chin in her hands. “It would make your life a lot easier.”

“I don’t do easy. My life has never been easy. Easy isn’t what I want from life.”

But saying the words aloud made me wonder how true they were. Wouldn’t an easy life be the most luxurious and wonderful thing ever? Days where I didn’t have to worry about my future, worry about being in danger, worry about where I would get my next meal, where I would be sleeping in a month? Wasn’t an easy life the hallmark of success?

It didn’t matter. I couldn’t forgive Ronan because what he did was unforgivable.