Chapter 10

Hanna

Rain began to pelt the cobblestones with a vengeance, each drop splashing up as if it were angry at the street.

Night had swallowed the city whole. When I shivered, Thorne, silent as always, slipped off his cloak and draped it over my shoulders.

I gripped the edge of the heavy fabric in my hand and pulled it away from my body, staring at the dark cloth, feeling its warmth seep into my bones. It was so much like Thorne to silently tend my every need, always watching me.

”I don”t need any more favors from you,” I said, pulling it off my shoulders. My voice was sharper than I intended.

”If you hate me so much, you might as well at least be dry,” he said, a rare flicker of something crossing his dark eyes.

My fingers brushed against his as I pushed the cloak back into his hands. His skin was rough, calloused, but there was a gentleness to him that felt so unexpected given the ease with which he killed. ”You know I don”t hate you.”

The words hung between us, heavier than the rain, filled with all the things I couldn”t say. It would be easier if I hated him. But hate wasn”t what twisted in my gut every time he looked away.

What was between us felt too dark and complicated these days.

Thorne didn”t reply, just stared at me for a heartbeat longer before he wrapped the cloak once more around my shoulders. This time, I didn”t resist. I let the cloak”s weight settle over me, and his deft fingers closed the clasp at my throat. My chin lifted, my spine stiffening; his every touch felt so intense against my skin, no matter how incidental.

We stood there for a long second, his dark eyes studying mine. For a moment, I thought he might lean forward and brush his lips against mine.

Then he stepped back. ”Stay close at the market. It”s full of unsavory characters.”

”That should feel like home, then,” I said lightly, ignoring the rush of rebellious annoyance I felt when he told me to stay close as if I were a spoiled child.

The rain had eased into a drizzle by the time Thorne guided me through an open door into an empty shop, and then to a narrow staircase that spiraled into the earth. He hesitated as if he were torn between going ahead of me to make sure the way was safe, and going behind to make sure no one snuck up behind me.

I gave him a smile and swept into the stairs first. He sighed behind me as I began to pick my way down the narrow steps. I wished there was a railing. Dragons” wings wouldn”t help me if I fell, rolled down these steps bruising various stone walls along the way, and broke an ankle.

We emerged into the underground market. It was a sprawling labyrinth of stalls and shops lit by flickering lanterns that cast an otherworldly glow on everything they touched. The air was thick with the scent of spices and the tang of magic.

Thorne stepped in front of me and reached for me as if he wanted to take my hand, but thought better of it. ”Stay close,” he repeated, as if he were trying to drive me to murder.

Thorne took off with purpose through the crowd. His presence parted the crowd like a blade and people pressed up against the stalls to either side of the narrow halls to avoid him. I followed close behind, keenly aware we were being watched.

We stopped at a stall that seemed to vibrate with stolen magic, its shelves cluttered with items that pulsed and shimmered. Potion bottles adorned most of the shelves, but there were objects too: rings and cloak broaches and books of spells. A set of daggers caught my eye, their blades etched with runes for enchantment that promised easier killing. I reached toward one, my fingers hovering just above the cool metal. Then I folded my hands again.

But above it on one of the high shelves were a row of books, old and musty, the pages yellowed. A stylized dragon stood out in in faded gilt along one leather spine. I reached for it, but as I stretched upward, pain seared across my back.

I stifled a gasp, then glanced over at Thorne. His eyes remained fixed on the merchant. He hadn”t noticed. At least that soothed my pride.

Then Thorne set the book on the table in front of me. He had plucked it from the cluttered shelf without sparing me a glance.

It was a discomforting thought, how aware he was of me all the time, even when it seemed he wasn”t looking at me.

Worse, I felt the sharp sting of the shopkeeper”s eyes on me. My back ached, and despite my efforts to stand tall, it was hard to hide my weakness. The shopkeeper caught it, his grin widening as if he”d just been dealt a winning hand.

”So? Do you have the antidote?” Thorne demanded.

The shopkeeper, a rotund man whose eyes twinkled under bushy, salt-and-pepper brows, leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter that seemed to barely hold the weight of his enthusiasm. ”Ah yes, but it”s quite an expensive potion. The spell is secret, you know.”

”I”m aware,” Thorne said dryly. His dark eyes flickered with a coming storm, and I wondered how hard it was for him to keep from dragging this man across the table and beating him senseless. Thorne”s dedication to getting me what I needed was never in doubt.

But his demeanor remained composed, his voice even as he responded. ”How much?”

The shopkeeper named a price, and Thorne gave the shopkeeper a disappointed look. ”That”s robbery, and you know it.”

”But it does seem as if you need it rather desperately. In which case, is it robbery, or is it a favor?”

”It”s not a favor. It”s extortion.”

”Extortion?” The shopkeeper feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. ”It”s supply and demand, my young friend.”

The frustration rolling off Thorne was almost tangible. We were used to having every resource at our disposal, but cut off from the palace and deep in another kingdom, our pockets were unfamiliarly light.

A small woman with dark hair slithered past us, pushed close by the surge of the crowd. She was young, perhaps twenty, with eyes that lingered on Thorne just a moment too long. There was something about her gaze---a mix of admiration and something else---that snagged my attention.

”Thorne,” I whispered, trying to get his attention. But he was already reaching into his cloak, searching for the purse that should have been there. The subtle shift in his expression was all I needed to see.

”Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his hand coming up empty.

I spun on my heels, scanning for the dark-haired girl who”d just passed by. My back screamed in protest, pain flaring with every movement.

She was slipping through the crowd like a ghost. I didn”t bother to raise an alarm. I already had the sense that no one in the Grey kingdom cared to help a bystander.

I launched myself forward, ignoring the sear of agony across my skin. With a final burst of speed fueled by urgency and anger, I tackled her to the ground.

We hit the cold floor with a thud, the impact jarring. I pinned her beneath me, my breath coming in ragged gasps from the fresh rip of pain across my back.

Thorne”s shadow loomed over us. As I rolled off her, Thorne hoisted her up with one powerful hand wrapping her neck. He slammed her back against the rough stone wall of the underground market. Her feet dangled, kicking futilely as she clawed at the hand around her throat.

The girl”s terror was palpable, her wide eyes darting between us as she struggled to breathe.

”Thorne!” I told him. ”Enough!”

His dark eyes flickered to mine. It wasn”t rage at the girl that fueled him---it was fear for me, not quite hidden behind his hardened facade.

”Stop, Thorne,” I urged again, softer this time. His grip loosened reluctantly, allowing the girl a desperate gulp of air.

With an annoyed grunt, Thorne released her completely. She slumped to the ground, coughing and rubbing her bruised throat.

I knelt beside her, my fingers quickly finding the bulge of Thorne’s stolen wallet in her pocket. I retrieved it along with a handful of other coins and gave her a bright smile. ”Crime doesn”t pay.”

”See? No harm done,” I said, standing and offering Thorne a reassuring smile despite the twinge of pain that shot through my back. I tossed him the bag of money.

”Not yet,” he growled, his gaze locking onto the girl who was still recovering from his iron grasp. There was a warning in his tone, a promise of retribution should she ever cross our paths again.

I could feel his anger simmering just below the surface. But as I looked into Thorne”s eyes, I knew every harsh word, every protective gesture, came from his concern.

His suffocating, maddening concern for me.

I fanned the coins in my hand, the dirty gold barely catching the dim light enough to gleam. ”Isn”t this enough for the price that shopkeeper named?”

Thorne”s eyes narrowed as he studied the money, but after a moment of tension that stretched between us, he held out his hand. I poured the coins into his palm, and he stalked away without another word.

I extended my hand to help the girl up. ”What”s your name?”

”Carelle,” she said quietly.

”Are you okay?” I asked, and her eyes flew to me, wide, as if the question were unexpected.

But before I could offer her some semblance of comfort, her gaze snapped to something over my shoulder.

I spun to follow her line of sight. A tall, handsome man was weaving through the crowd with a predatory grace that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. His eyes were sharp, scanning the faces in the market with an intensity that suggested he was hunting for someone.

I didn”t need any enchantment to know he was hunting for her.

I turned back to Carelle, her face ghostly pale beneath the flickering torchlight of the underground market. ”What did you do to him?”

She shook her head, pressing her lips together until they formed a thin line. ”It doesn”t matter.”

”Seems like it matters quite a bit to him.”

But as she looked up at me, the raw fright in her gaze tugged at something inside me. Maybe I had a secret sympathy for stupid girls who got themselves into reckless trouble...Though there was no reason at all for my empathy, of course. I sighed. ”Alright, never mind. Just stay behind me. He hasn’t seen you yet.”

With a quick survey of the chaos around us, I spotted an empty stall, halfway to a utility door. ”Go, now, before he sees you. I’ll block you from him.”

Her eyes followed where I pointed, and for a moment, she hesitated. Then, after a slight nod, she darted away like a shadow. I moved with her, casually, blocking her from him until I encountered a knot of shoppers I couldn’t cut through. She had to flee the rest of the way on her own.

The man”s attention snapped to the fleeing figure, his body tensing as if to give chase. But Carelle vanished from sight, swallowed up by the dim corridors.

Though he couldn”t reach her, his gaze flickered to me, suspicion etched across his handsome features.

The man moved through the crowd with a predatory grace. ”Did you help her escape?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the bartering that filled the marketplace.

”Your tone suggests you”ve already made up your mind,” I retorted, my stance defiant despite the dull ache across my back. The pounding rain above was just a whisper here, but it still felt as if the soaked earth above were pressing down on us.

”But I”d rather hear it from you. What do you want to tell me?”

Before I could craft another barbed response, a familiar presence loomed at my side. Thorne. ”Watch how you speak to her. Friend.”

Thorne”s voice was more threatening than the sword he carried, and I was glad he”d never call me friend in that weighted way. I couldn”t imagine Thorne ever being my enemy.

The man”s lips curled into a half-smile, not quite a sneer but bordering on mockery.

”Treis,” he offered by way of introduction, extending a hand that neither Thorne nor I had any intention of taking. ”And as for the girl, Carelle, she”s a thief. She took something of mine. But I won”t harm her. I know she can”t help being wicked.”

”Charming,” I commented dryly. He may have been handsome, but his looks didn”t impress me.

Thorne shifted, crossing his arms. ”Hanna, why are we getting involved?”

”We”re not,” I said.

Thorne grunted. There was a lot of skepticism in that grunt.

”That girl could steal the horns off a demon and make it thank her for the favor.” Treis warned. ”I”d stay far away from her.”

”We certainly will.” Thorne didn”t wait for my agreement; his hand clamped around my arm, firm and insistent, pulling me away from Treis.

The underground market was growing quieter as Thorne pulled me back to the original stall. But the shopkeeper was gone, a younger version of him locking up the enchanted wares.

”Wait!” Thorne barked. The boy looked up, irritation etched onto his youthful face. ”I made a deal.”

”You struck a deal with him, not me,” he said, nodding toward the door just as his father”s short, round figure disappeared. His voice carried the arrogance of youth.

Thorne”s grip on my arm tightened, and I could almost feel the anger radiating off him. ”Your meddling slowed us down.”

”I didn”t ask you to come to my rescue.”

”You know you don”t have to.” Thorne said quietly, then leaned in closer to the boy, the menace in his posture clear. ”We had an agreement, and I expect it to be honored.”

His voice was a low growl now, the dragon beneath the surface stirring.

The son”s eyes flickered with a hint of fear before he masked it with defiance. ”My father and I make our own deals.”

“Then perhaps we should renegotiate,” I said, trying to smooth things over.

”What do you have to offer?” The boy asked, then his eyes caught on the cuff that Thorne wore on his wrist.

”A fair price,” Thorne said dryly. ”Though I know that”s not what you want to sell it for.”

”I”ll trade you for the bracelet.”

Thorne glanced down at it as if it were meaningless. ”I have coin.”

”I know. But we specialize in enchanted objects, so we could trade you one for another.”

I glanced at Thorne curiously. I didn”t know what it even did, though he always wore it and sometimes fidgeted with it between his fingers.

His shoulders had gone stiff. He named a price, and the boy shook his head.

I slid closer to the stall under the pretense of examining a trinket, my back to the son. With a deftness born from my royal training---and necessity---I lifted the antidote bottle and slipped it into my pocket.

”Leave it,” I whispered, trying to catch Thorne”s eye. ”There”s another stall that has the same potion and without the ridiculous shopkeeper.”

”Who?” The boy demanded, looking affronted by the thought someone else might carry the same wares.

Thorne”s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed with questions he wouldn”t voice where anyone could hear. ”Fine.”

We moved toward the exit, his strides purposeful, mine feigning casual ease. The weight of the stolen cure pressed against my thigh. He gripped my arm and leaned in close, his lips moving against my ear. ”Hanna.... I hope you haven”t done anything stupid.”

”I hope for that every day.”

An enormous bell on the wall gonged, and suddenly two scruffy-looking criminals blocked our way. ”Someone”s exiting with the protection enchantment still on their objects,” one of them said. His gaze met mine. ”Perhaps you forgot to pay for something you bought?”

”Must be a mistake.” Thorne”s stance had shifted perceptibly, a predator ready to lash out.

”Must be,” he said dryly. ”But we”ll have to search you both.”

I laid my hand on Thorne”s forearm, knowing how much he”d appreciate that idea. ”That”s fine.”

I”d figure something out.

The young shopkeeper pushed through the crowd, his eyes glinting. ”I”m missing a potion, I think the lady picked it up by accident.”

”Is that so?” The lead scruffy ‘guard’ asked with mild interest. “And what”s the price for it, Merlon?”

”The man and I were renegotiating for his cuff.” Merlon”s face glowed with triumph.

Thorne”s jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he slowly unfastened the cuff. The market”s clamor seemed to hush for a moment, the rain”s patter on the roof above now the loudest sound.

I watched, my heart sinking, as he handed it over. He had carried it all the time I knew him, and his shoulders were stiff, but he parted with it as if it were nothing.

As we left the market, the heavy rain beat at us and soaked every bit of fabric not covered by my cloak but it was Thorne”s silence that chilled me. I knew he was furious, not just at the situation, but at me.

”Thorne,” I began, my voice barely audible above the rainfall, ”I”m sorry--”

”Save it, Hanna.” His words cut through the night. ”It was a stupid piece of jewelry. It doesn”t matter.”

I hesitated, turned toward him, rain streaming down my face as I searched his expression, finding only the hardened mask he wore so well.

”Your safety is all that matters,” he continued, the fierceness in his voice at odds with the tenderness in his touch as he brushed a wet strand of hair from my face. ”Being able to move, to fight... that”s what”s important. Take your potion now.”

He indicated an alleyway. He blocked me from the world like a shield as he stood watch. Lights glowed out of the windows of the homes above the shops, and it made me feel as if I would never be home and safe, dry and warm, again.

But when I thought of home, I didn”t think of Honor”s castle or the coral mansion I”d inherited. I just thought of being warm and cozy, lying on a blanket in front of the fire with Thorne and Kaelan beside me.

I fumbled with the vial, my fingers slippery from the rain.

With trembling hands, I uncorked the bottle and brought it to my lips, the aroma of potent magic tickling my nose.

The potion was bitter, with an acrid tang that made me wince, but as it slid down my throat, warmth spread through my body. As it reached the festering wound across my back, I gasped in pain. Muscle and skin knit together beneath the surface, with an eerie pulling sensation.

Thorne”s gaze never left the mouth of the alley, but his hand brushed mine, offering silent comfort. Overcome by the rush of pain, I wrapped my fingers around his and squeezed.

”Is it working?”

”Yes.” My voice came out stronger than I expected.

”Good.” There was a note of finality in his tone. He didn”t say it was worth it.

He stepped away, scanning the street one last time before nodding toward the open end of the alley. ”We need to move.”