Chapter 18

Julian

If the coin won't help me, I'll have to forge ahead alone. My magic has grown since the Dark Waters held me in their clutches. My power has grown.

My rage has grown.

I don't need the coin. I'm enough without its fickle powers. I have to be. And if not, well, there will come an end to my mission one way or another. The closer I get to my target, the less I care what happens to me as long as Tauren gets what's coming to him by my hand.

That seer had to be wrong.

There's only one, and only the one will do. A coin will guide you.

Crazy old woman.

I can't believe I fell for that mash. A coin that calls to me, only to reject me when it's in my hands?

There's no time for that nonsense.

Next to me, Cricket snores softly. He has rolled over in his sleep, facing me now, hair hiding his eyes, one arm flung over my chest. He's beautiful.

Gently I wrap my fingers around his wrist, lift his arm, and place it on the blanket between us. His skin is so soft. He wouldn't like me calling him delicate, but that's what he is. Young, rash, headstrong, and delicate.

Not innocent, I know that much, though he looks it.

I let myself stare for a few long moments. My little thief, so sweet in sleep. So feisty when awake. So desperate to belong somewhere or to someone he'd align himself with the worst of monsters.

With me.

Silently, carefully, I sneak out of the bed. One leg, then the other, ever so slowly so as not to jostle the mattress. Holding my breath, I stand up and step away.

So far, so good. Not even a snuffle from the sleeping lovely.

I went to bed fully clothed, so there's no need to dress. All my things are already stored in my pocket dimension. My hidey-hole, as Cricket calls it.

Ah, Cricket.

He's going to be so mad when he discovers I'm gone, especially after he told me not to leave. I hate doing this to him, creeping off in the middle of the night like a one-night stand—he means so much more to me than that—but it can't be avoided. He wants to help me with my mission, but that's the last thing I need.

I must keep him out of this at all costs.

I must keep him safe.

And for that, I must leave him.

If anything bad happened to Cricket because of me, his forgiveness wouldn't matter because I'd never forgive myself. He deserves to be protected, no matter how angry it'll make him.

The quiet of the wee early hours is haunting. All is still in the brothel. Thankfully, I won't have to explain myself to anyone, though surely, Hiluron will have an inkling.

The only guildsmen he knew of still operating in Willowood are not the men I seek. Though they all deserve to die, the lower echelon, the likes of the silver-winged fae called Forice and his goons, can wait until I've dealt with Tauren.

I'll kill him with my bare hands if I have to.

The same hands he mutilated.

He'll be sorry.

It's still dark outside as I make my way out of town. Willowood sleeps. Not even the bakers are up at this hour. Café tables sit empty. Shop doors are all closed up.

There's something peaceful about being the only one out and about on the cobbled streets. So I take my time, savoring every moment of peace allowed to me, for who knows what chaos the next few days will bring?

I consider picking up Slinger, but that will only put me on even shakier ground with Cricket. If I have any ground left at all after this. Instead, I wake a stable hand and arrange to rent another mount. A chestnut mare by the name of Nova.

She has some spice to her, stamping and snorting, irritated at being woken up and put to work this early. I appease her the best I know how with what remains of Slinger's treat stash.

Nova takes the sweet cubes and carrots, but her ears never relax, and she eyes me with suspicion.

Perfect.

A horse not unlike myself. We'll get along just fine.

At first light, we set out southward bound to Irondale. No doubt Cricket will follow, but this young, fit mare will make much better time than poor old Slinger.

I miss them both already.