Chapter 2

Cricket

Maybe I should ask the coin.

Its magic is pulsing as though it understands more of the situation than I do, a warm sensation against the rhythmic beating of my heart.

The stranger meets my gaze, green eyes glowing in the dim light, and cocks his head. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

His voice is a smooth, seductive baritone. Clear and precise. He offers his hand, skin sparkling. Fae, then, though he's on the tall side to be full-blooded, but no wings.

Where are his wings?

His proffered hand has only the thumb and three digits. A nub is what's left of his littlest finger. I try to hide the surprise before he notices.

He clears his throat. "I'm Julian."

I ignore his hand and give him the same obvious once-over he gave me from his thin pink lips to the pointed toes of his polished black leather boots and back up to the smirk now plastered across his stupidly attractive face.

This man is trouble.

And I've always had a knack for trouble.

Instead of allowing him to touch me, I step back and assess my getaway routes.

I could return the way I came and follow the main road out of the city. Or go through to the run-down wooden door on my right. I could probably shove it open and take my chances escaping through the back room of a closed shop. But with enough of a head start, climbing one of the stone buildings and taking to the rooftops is my best option. I doubt he could follow.

"Ah, ah, ah." Julian arches his brows. "Before you go, I'll be relieving you of the coin that's in your vest pocket. I need it."

Wait, how does he know that?

His expression turns ravenous. A starved coyote with the scent of blood in its nostrils and just enough energy left for one last hunt.

But I didn't escape dozens of Ralossi's finest to be undone by this smooth talker in a dirty alley. "Not a chance, Jules. This one's mine. Get your own."

"Only one exists." If the pet name bothers him, he doesn't show it.

"Not my problem."

"Tell me. How have you come to be in possession of such an artifact?" His mouth wraps around the words like an embrace.

"Stole it. Fair and square." I shoot him a glare and cross my arms over my chest, daring him to judge me.

"One could argue that isn't fair at all."

"Is that what you're going to argue?"

"No. It wouldn't be fitting, seeing as I'm going to steal it from you."

"You can try." If an entire palace full of guards couldn't catch me, I'm willing to bet neither can this one man. The trick to thievery is to be faster than those in pursuit. And I'm always faster. Erm, except for just now in the palace, but that was a fluke. And I had the coin to help me.

"So be it."

I expect him to lunge for me. My muscles are coiled, ready to spring. I've decided on climbing, so I'm looking at the rickety door, signaling a false move. When I make a break for the stone wall on the other side, Julian won't be expecting it. I'll get the head start I need.

But he doesn't move. At least not much. He lifts one hand, slow and casual, the same one he offered in greeting earlier.

His palm fills with orange, sparkling light. The heat of it travels like an explosion, warming my cheeks.

Right. So that's not normal.

Rather than stick around to find out what the light is meant to do, I make my move. It's high time for me to be leaving.

I dart for the wall. Rooftops have often been the reason I've escaped rather than gotten caught. I have a great long jump, the agility to keep my footing where others falter, and no fear of heights to hold me back.

Scrambling up the uneven stones presents no challenge. They might as well be a ladder for how easily I climb them. The coin vibrates against the cotton of my shirt, comforting, but the utter silence behind me nags at my gut.

Julian isn't going to chase me? What a letdown.

"Thought you were gonna steal my coin?" I haul myself onto the roof. The rough tiles scrape my palms.

I dare a glance over my shoulder. His smirk has turned into a scowl. He's orange all over and glowering at me like I stole his last piece of candied ginger. The light brightens and expands.

I'm far enough away and a few short steps from being out of his line of sight—or his line of fire, if that's what he's planning on doing with that orange stuff—so I stop to watch.

My curiosity will get the better of me someday.

But not today, it turns out. His orange aura blinks off with a pop, leaving him staring with a bewildered expression. "Why didn't that work?"

"Are you asking me? Or is that meant to be rhetorical?" I'm teasing him a little, but the low, angry growl rumbling from his chest says he doesn't think I'm very funny. Good thing I'm out of striking distance because the glare he flashes is positively murderous.

He tries again, lifting both hands this time, the eerie orange glow returning twofold.

His left hand is also missing a finger, the pointer finger, though the nub suggests he was born with the normal amount.

So what happened?

As I'm pondering, Julian handles the two fiery balls of false light. They roll in on themselves, swirling and raging as they double in size. He aims, sneers, and flings them at me.

I should duck.

Or run away.

I do neither.

I'm too mesmerized by him to move. The silhouette he makes, standing with his feet braced shoulder width apart, his back straight as an arrow, shoulders rigid, eyes gleaming with intent. His long black cloak billows behind him, though there's no breeze tonight.

He'd be hot even without the fireballs of doom.

The orange light roars in my direction, but it fizzles out before reaching me. All the while, the coin vibrates.

Laughter bubbles in my throat. He's going to be so pissed.

And pissed he is. He's pacing and spitting like a caged panther. "That coin is meant for me!"

Arrogant son of a— "Oh, really? Then why didn't I see you creeping through cobwebs and nearly getting your guts poked out with a dagger? Oh, right. Because that was me. I did that. And thus, the coin is mine."

Against my better judgment, I climb back down the wall and, once I've made it halfway, jump to the ground.

I can still run if I need to, if it comes to a fight, but instinct tells me he won't lower himself to hand-to-hand combat. Not when he's used to being a powerful sorcerer. Accustomed to getting his way. That sort of attitude drives me crazy. Serves him right his magic won't work on me.

I saunter up to him, hands on my hips, maybe a little too cocky for my britches, but he's put on a show. Now it's my turn. "So, what was all that with the dancing orange lights?"

His dark brows nearly meet in the middle; such is the extent of his disapproval. "Apparently not enough. What do you want for it?"

What do I want? I shake my head and sigh. My family back. Our home back. The life I was meant to live back, rather than this shitty one that was forced on me. "Nothing you have to give."

"You don't seem to understand?—"

"No, you don't seem to understand." An old anger stirs in my belly. "Back off, let me by, and kindly never threaten me again."

"But—"

"There's no way I'm giving you the coin, and as we've already established, you can't take it from me."

"Yet."

"Pfft."

He balls his hands into fists. "I will have that coin."

"You won't. And I told you to shoo." I wave him off. "Go on, get."

"Did you just flick your fingers at me?" His I'm-so-affronted look is more entertaining than the scowl-of-disapproval look.

"Sure did." I repeat the motion with an exaggerated flourish, showcasing all five perfect digits. I need him out of my way so I can leave this fancy city with its arrogant nobility, its marble statues, and its shoddy sorcerers.

"This isn't over." He narrows his gaze, huffs, and disappears.

Blinks out of existence.

Gone.

My jaw drops. Maybe not so shoddy after all? It's a rare sorcerer who possesses the ability to gate at all, much less so easily.

Rumor has it the old queen could travel by portal. And the Gatekeeper, of course. But an ordinary citizen? Julian's magic must be extraordinary for him to vanish without a trace.

So that begs the question: why couldn't he take the coin from me?

My magic is mostly tricks and illusions. I wouldn't begin to know how to defend myself against a mage of Julian's caliber—beyond running, that is.

I take another good, long look around. Maybe it was an illusion after all, and he's only hidden himself somehow.

But no. The alley is dark, smelly, and empty. He's gone.

My heart still pumps as if I'm in danger, my breaths coming rapidly. I hold my hand over the secret pocket, pressing the coin to my chest while composing myself.

It's past time to flee from this city. The way out of Lemossin is due south, and I'm on course to pass its limits by midnight if I hurry.

A nice place in the forest beneath a canopy of pines is calling to me like a siren's song. A campfire. Some supper. And sleep.

That's all I need.

But I can't shake the uneasy feeling I haven't seen the last of the scowling sorcerer.