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22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Jeremiah and Hans were prattling on about something unimportant, or at the very least, something uninteresting again. For a pair of grown ass men, they sure got themselves deeply invested in the Atlassian rumor mill.

I had distanced myself from the nonsense of the political elite a long time ago, and didn’t particularly care to reinvest my time or energy into that shit unless I absolutely had to. And sometimes I did have to, due to the nature of my work—but this was not one of those occasions.

Who the fuck cared that some heiress from Vindyrst had run off with another House heir? And who could blame her? The Zephirin family was not unlike the Mirkovics: it was filled to the brim with notoriously awful people.

I was about to say as much when I stilled, my ears pricking up when I heard a familiar, sparkling peal of laughter several paces behind us. Another round of louder giggles told me all I needed to know. That was most certainly Arken and her partner in crime, Laurel Ansari.

“Isn’t that your captain?”Laurel was whispering, in a hushed tone that was far from subtle.

I smirked at the way Laurel seemed to emphasize the “your” in that sentence—apparently blissfully unaware that the Conduits in my cadre of the Guard were trained to use our arcana for enhanced hearing. I paused mid-step, pretending to examine the available goods at a nearby stall, and resisted the urge to turn around. As much as I wanted to see her pretty face, I was having fun eavesdropping.

“Isn’t that your Conduit?” Jeremiah parroted beneath his breath, nudging my shoulder as I pretended to listen to the vendor hawk his wares. Meanwhile, Arken and Laurel were deliberating on whether or not they should approach us.

“I think we should invite them.”

“Oh gods, don’t you dare,”Arken replied with a stern whisper. “He’s with his lieutenants, Laur.”

“So?”

“So leave them alone! They’re probably working.”

“I can think of a number of petty crimes we could commit to get their attention,”Laurel laughed.

“Do! Not!” Arken hissed.

“We’re off duty, actually,” Hans called over his shoulder with a wicked grin, and I groaned. “So hold off on any criminal activity, if you’d be so kind.”

Leave it to Deering to ruin my fun in favor of the attention of a pretty woman. As the three of us turned around to greet Arken and her friend, I found myself mildly startled.

While Ansari’s shrewd gaze traveled between my men and I with intrigue, Arken was staring at me. Just me. And when our eyes met, she smiled—not the tight-lipped, performative gesture that I’d seen her offer others before by way of greeting. No, this was an all-out grin, her straight white teeth sparkling in the sun.

Fucking Hel.

It had been less than twenty-four hours, but that smile of hers lit me up the same way it had yesterday. For a moment, it felt as though we were standing in front of the Mural of Creation again… not some hawker’s stand for trinkets and knick-knacks.

“Does that mean you three are free to accompany us for a late lunch, then?” Laurel asked. “I’m not going to name names, but someone here forgot to eat breakfast. We’re heading over to the Arrowhead Inn.”

Jeremiah and Hans glanced back at me, both clearly interested, but they waited for my answer. I had a feeling both of my lieutenants were chomping at the bit for a closer look at the woman who had managed to ensnare me into a casual friendship. Especially after our conversations earlier about the “awfully good mood” I was in today.

I shrugged. “Sure, why not? If you two don’t mind the intrusion, I can’t say we had anything better to do,” I replied, and my men exchanged a grin. “Lead the way, Miss Ansari.”

As Laurel began to stride south with confidence, Jeremiah and Hans quickly fell into an easy conversation with her, leaving Arken and I to meander several paces behind.

“Well, hello again, Little Conduit,” I purred. “Long time no see.”

“Indeed,” Arken replied, a hint of that wry smile remaining. “Did you miss me that much already, stalker?”

“Naturally,” I said.

Though I kept my tone light, it wasn’t a lie. I started missing Arken’s kind company the moment I’d dropped her off at her studio last night, which was both unusual and somewhat disconcerting. But I had given up on trying to stay away from her.

“Did you miss me?”

“No,” she laughed, though I made note of how she glanced away briefly, her cheeks coloring as she said it. “But I do miss the museum already.”

“We could always go back,” I offered. “Though there are quite a few other spots I’d like to show you first. You know, as your official tour guide to Sophrosyne.”

“Oh? Do you have a list or something?”

“Perhaps I do,” I mused noncommittally.

I did. I absolutely did have a list of places I wanted to take Arken around the city, and that list had been growing by the hour every time I passed by something or somewhere I thought she might enjoy.

“So what were you two up to this afternoon?” I asked. “Besides skipping breakfast.”

“Oh gods, not you, too,” she groaned. “Spare me the lecture, Captain. This just happens sometimes when I get excited. We had a Bios lecture.”

“You got so excited over a lecture that you forgot the most important meal of the day?” I teased.

“In my defense, it was a lecture at the Irrosi Arboretum. A smidge more exciting than Larkin’s typical talks.”

Okay, yeah, that would do it—the Arboretum had been on that ever-growing list of mine. I felt oddly satisfied knowing that I had figured her out, to an extent.

“Fair enough,” I said. “But you best be intending to get some food in your system before you and Ansari start drinking on rooftops again. We’ve been over this.”

The inn her friend was guiding us towards wasn’t far off now, and Laurel paused for a moment, allowing us both to catch up to the group.

“You are not allowed to monopolize all of her attention today, Vistarii,” Laurel informed me, eyes narrowing.

I offered a slight bow of the head, extending open hands in acknowledgement of her demand. I couldn’t deny that, given the opportunity, I would have done exactly that. Hans let out a low whistle, eyebrows raised, clearly impressed by anyone who had the audacity to order me around.

We entered the inn as a group and got ourselves situated at a small table before I stood, offering to order us drinks at the bar as Arken happily fell into animated conversation with Laurel, Hans and Jeremiah.

The drinks were mostly an excuse to familiarize myself with the layout of this establishment, as I had never actually been inside the Arrowhead Inn. It was important to me to identify every exit, gauge the room, and also to be strategic about where I would be sitting. My lieutenants already knew my preference for corner tables, and had thankfully picked one on the left hand side of the room. In many ways, I could rely on my Shadows to make up for the loss of vision in my left eye—but I was much more comfortable when I didn’t have to utilize that arcana constantly, especially in a social setting.

“It’s interesting that the Guard has secondary uniforms,” Arken was saying as I made my way back to the table, several flagons of ale in hand for my lieutenants and Laurel. The Little Conduit had politely declined any alcohol on an empty stomach, which pleased me more than I cared to admit.

“Secondary what now?” Jeremiah was asking with a raised brow, before glancing back at me. “Oh.”

“That’s his secondary uniform, alright,” Hans snickered. “Or, as I like to call it, bait.”

“I heard that,” I said, dropping off the ale.

“Is he wrong, though?” Laurel challenged, seeming amused. “Seems to me like that tunic of yours is awfully low-cut. Ill-fitting, or intentional, Vistarii?”

I grinned wolfishly, resisting the urge to catch Arken’s eye even though I could feel her gaze traversing over me with newfound intrigue.

“Now, now,” I purred. “I can’t expose all my methods of acquiring delicate information.”

Hans wasn’t wrong, though. Not in the slightest. My attire today, like most days, was crafted and donned with intention. Unless I was doing more routine work such as guarding the gates, or babysitting a lecture, it was rare to catch me in the official uniform of the Elder Guard. I was recognizable enough as is, what with the massive facial scar, a pretty face, and a mild degree of notoriety—so anything that might help me keep even a slightly lower profile was conducive to my work.

And as far as the “low-cut” tunic was concerned, well, that was intentional too. When it came to the acquisition of information, it was all too easy for me to rely on baser human instincts. I wasn’t afraid to use every tool in my arsenal to get things done. It was a simple truth: lips were loosened by attraction—and I was perfectly content to let myself be ogled when it lent me such advantages in the field.

As Laurel and Hans returned to slinging pointed barbs back and forth, I took notice of a small group of guardsmen who had just entered the room. Jeremiah appeared to notice them with interest, as well.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured to us as he placed his napkin on the table. “I want to check in with Kraiggson.”

“That’s one way to phrase it,” Hans snorted, his expression knowing as he took a large quaff of ale. It didn’t slip my notice that he was strategically avoiding my sharpened gaze.

The fuck was he talking about?

Laurel tilted her head in curiosity as well, to which Hans only shrugged as my other lieutenant took his leave and waltzed up to the bar. I continued to chew on the warm hunk of sourdough bread that had accompanied my lunch of rabbit stew, beginning to piece certain implications together.

I tuned in and out of the conversation at the table, mostly watching Jeremiah now.

As he was conversing with Grant, one of the younger guardsmen in our scouting unit, the man was smiling—laughing. At ease. I continued to observe in careful silence, noting the way he leaned into the other man, the tips of his pale ears tinged with a deepening pink.

Ah. Cradle robber indeed.

Jeremiah had a godsdamned crush on a freshling. And under any other circumstances, I might have been happy for the man, but—

Arken yawned, stretching herself out while seated on the bench beside me. All it took was one brush of her ample thigh against mine, and suddenly my train of thought was entirely derailed. A small groan of relief escaped her mouth as she worked out whatever kink in her posture had been bothering her.

Good gods, that sound.

I took a needlessly large sip of my water and returned my focus to the conversation at hand… to the best of my ability.

“So, as I was saying. I really don’t know what’s got the Zephirin’s all worked up over this. I mean, if they’re as worked up as people say,” Hans was saying to Laurel.

“Oh, trust me. They are,” Laurel confirmed.

Ugh.

“I cannot believe you’re still talking about this shit,” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Arken’s quiet snort was the only validation I needed.

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