Chapter 11

Cricket

The air smells of rain, so we stop early. I want my magic lesson, and Julian wants to drool over my coin. Since he won't gate us more than spitting distance, we haven't made quick progress, but I can't seem to be bothered.

The journey south with a grumpy sorcerer for a companion has been a lot more interesting than my journey north, alone and vengeful.

Don't get me wrong. I'm glad Luminia is safer for humans now. I want that for all of us. But it happened too late to save my family. Too late to save me. A part of me will always be angry about that.

What would my life have been if I hadn't been forced into trickery and stealing? If my brother were still with me, what would we be doing?

A pang of misery cuts like a knife.

Those are things I'll never know.

Which is why I don't usually let myself dwell. No sense in wallowing in what cannot be when I am here now, living what is.

And what is, at the moment, is a clingy sorcerer who wants what I stole.

He rubs his hands together and stares at my chest. "Let me see the coin."

We're at a goat farm along our route in the barn of a villager who happily let us rest for the night in return for the rose honey we'd purchased just for this sort of bartered arrangement. Slinger has a stall, and we have a hayloft.

"All right, but no grabby hands. The coin is mine." I remove it from my inner vest pocket and hold it in my palm for Julian to ogle.

He sits so close our knees are touching and stares at the coin as if it holds the answers to the mysteries of the universe. "Lovely. It's singing for me. Can you hear it?"

"No." That's odd. I've heard the coin many times before, why not now? "What does it sound like?"

"A low hum, pleasing to the ear. If I had to choose a word to describe it, I'd say contentment." He extends a hand.

I yank the coin away. "What did I say about that?"

"You said not to grab it, and I'm not going to. But you'll let me feel its magic, won't you?"

"What's stopping you from snatching it and gating away?"

"My word, and though I won't make that promise indefinitely, you have it for now. I'll stick to our wager, as agreed. I still owe you a magic lesson."

Julian continues to ask for my trust, and against every instinct, I continue to give it to him. "Fine. Go on, sparkle fingers. Do your thing."

"Thank you." He hovers both hands over mine and closes his eyes. His tongue darts out and wets his lips. His forehead crinkles in concentration.

What can he learn from this?

The coin warms against my palm and begins to vibrate. I hear the humming now. "Jules?"

He shushes me.

I frown but stay quiet.

While I have the opportunity to stare unabashedly, I study his face. Sharp cheekbones, smooth skin, no signs of stubble at all. Some fae don't grow facial hair. Of all the traits I could have inherited from what little fae blood I have, that's one we have in common.

Baby cheeks, my grandfather called me and Hopper before they both died. His beard was red and shaggy down to his collarbones, but I've never grown a single hair on my chin. Looks as if Jules hasn't either.

The urge to trail my finger along his angled jawline rises like steam from a kettle, and it's just as insistent. I shove the thought aside.

Bad idea, Cricket. Don't go getting attached. He's here for one thing and one thing only: the coin.

Not me.

Though he's accepted my overtures at friendship, I won't fool myself into thinking it'll stick. Julian has no friends by design. Why would he make an exception for me?

If I hadn't stolen this coin, I'd be making this journey alone. We wouldn't have met.

"Let me touch it," he says, startling me from my thoughts. "Just my hand over yours. Flat. No grabby fingers, cross my heart."

"Tell me what you're learning, and I will."

"Deal, but after. I need silence to concentrate."

"Go on."

He lays his mangled hand atop mine, skin on skin except where the coin rests between us. Warm, soft, welcome. The touch is barely there, yet it steals my entire focus.

The coin positively sings with delight, radiating joy that dances from my chest to my toes. Julian parts his lips, and I'm staring again. He meets my gaze as though his emerald eyes could pierce my soul.

We're extremely close. If I were to lean in, and he were to do the same, we'd be kissing. I want to kiss him. To taste his skin. To learn how he responds to a tender touch. A mingled breath.

Our palms tingle with shared energy. Julian's magic swirls orange and dreamy around us, like a blanket of safety. Like nothing could hurt us when we're together.

Rain plinks on the metal roof, beating a random rhythm that promises more to come. His thumb rubs a circle on my wrist. I'm caught in Julian's spell, sliding forward, lips parted.

He jerks away, blinking.

My heart sinks. Burning disappointment lodges in my throat, making my breath choppy. I clench my fingers around the coin and put it back in my pocket.

The orange glow around us fizzles out, leaving us alone in our togetherness.

I don't understand. Julian's expression is full of longing, eyes dark, pupils dilated.

"It's not real," he says.

I try to disguise my hurt for anger. "What are you talking about?"

"The coin made us want it."

"It?"

"The kiss. Each other…" A flush colors his cheeks. He looks away. "More. It's the coin's doing. It's not real."

What? Somehow that makes me feel worse because I know in my heart he's wrong. The coin agrees, cold as a block of ice against my chest at Julian's words.

I want to argue, want to reassure him that our desire is real. At least mine is.

But what if his isn't? What if he doesn't want me as I want him? The first rejection still stings. I can't take a second so soon.

Unsure what to do, I grab my bag and dig through the contents randomly.

"Cricket?"

"Julian."

"Are you all right?"

"Perfectly fine."

"Really? Because you never use my full name."

"You prefer Jules?"

"I've come to when it comes from your lips."

The coin has gone silent. Still cold, but no longer a frozen shard, sharp and deadly.

I fluff a section of hay and spread my bedding atop it. He likes the nickname. He worries if I'm okay. He wanted to kiss me just now, but something scared him off. He blames the coin.

Stupid coin.

One more chance. "Why do you want the coin, Jules?"

His silence stabs at my raw nerves. He knits his brows, concocting his next story. But I don't want another story.

"The truth this time, or nothing at all. Please."

He lets out a long breath and goes still, choosing to give me nothing. Time yawns, but then he lifts his head and looks me in the eye.

When his words finally come, they're careful. Spoken softly. Not like his stories, which are bold and brash, but like he's telling me a secret.

"A powerful seer told me I would need it to complete my mission. ‘There's only one,' she said, ‘and only the one will do. A coin will guide you.'"

I deflate. A seer? It's hard to imagine Julian trusting anyone, much less someone who trades fortunes for money. "That sounds like another lie."

His mood has gone dark. "It isn't."

"What mission?"

"Justice." He growls out the word and balls his fists. Though I've gotten used to the appearance of his hands—missing fingers and all—clenched fists look strangely out of place on him.

I'm beginning to believe him. "You seek to punish those who harmed you."

"Not only that."

"What more, then? To kill them?"

"Yes. To kill them, those they love, those who helped, those who knew and did nothing to stop it. All of them."

An icy chill races down my spine. The Guild of the Dark Waters, he'd said. Julian's weird disguise, with his face all wrong. The guildsman I spoke with at The Merry Goblet some weeks back. Was that silver-haired fae one of them?

Did I have a casual chat with a fellow capable of torturing another man? He'd seemed so normal. And he was headed to Willowood, not Irondale. We'll be passing through Willowood in a few days time. It's on our way. I hope the fae from The Merry Goblet is gone by then.

I need to know more. "Who are they?"

"I've already told you that." His velvet voice has grown harsh. "I won't discuss it further."

Kill them all. And those they love.I study Julian, and the man I've come to know is suddenly a stranger again.

I haven't been afraid of him since that night in the alley, but a trickle of fear courses through my veins now.

Is Julian a killer? Cynical, moody, maybe a little crazy, yes. But a killer?

No.

And the coin, which has magic of its own, opinions of its own, a will of its own…does it want this? To turn Julian into a monster?

Surely not.

The coin has been nothing but good to me so long as I've had it. If it had ill intentions, I'd know by now. Wouldn't I?

I'm afraid to ask my next question, voice quivering. "You mean to destroy whole families?"

"So what if I do?"

I flinch. "Speaking as someone whose entire family has been destroyed, can I sway you against it?"

His stare is cold. And sad. "Nothing can sway me. Not even you."

A wall of air exits my lungs at once. "So that is why you want the coin. Revenge. It's not worth it."

"Oh, really? So you stealing that coin from the royal prince wasn't worth it?"

"That wasn't revenge."

"Wasn't it?"

Oh. Maybe it was a little bit. The exhilaration, the rush of the chase, the victory at getting away with the heist still lingers. It had, in fact, been sweet.

But no one was harmed. "That was different."

"If you say so." Julian conjures his bedding from his magical hidey-hole and spreads it out as far from me as possible.

Doesn't look like I'll be getting my magic lesson tonight. Which is fine. I'm not sure I want to learn from him when he's in so foul a mood, to be honest.

We settle in for sleep without speaking. It's early still, and the rain pounds the roof like it's hammering in nails.

My mind spins in circles over Julian's confession and continually lands on the same conclusion: I must help him.

Not to kill those people, no. Not even the ones who deserve it. But to help him with the closure he needs to move on.

There are other ways to punish wrongdoers in Luminia without resorting to murder. Imprisonment. Work camps. Forced dormancy, which the queen can order and inflict to keep dangerous people off the streets.

The effect would be the same—an end to the fae who hurt Jules—but without any blood on his hands.

That will have to be enough. Because a man who can't bear to eat animals isn't a man who can take another life without dire consequences.

I fear he'll lose more than fingers and wings if he turns into a killer.

He'll lose himself.