CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

About an hour before they were due to leave, Quinlan slipped out of the Singing Sword and into the bustling streets to hunt for food. The trade district was a maze of avenues and winding alleys, throngs of people crowding every shop and corner. He passed jewelers, florists, and brewers of ale and brewers of potions galore. He navigated through an entire street strung lamp to lamp with arrays of scarves and shawls of every color and design imaginable. On the next street he briefly peeked into a shop boasting knives with blades as sharp as Ignatian steel. False, of course. His nose guided him onward until the street unfurled like a great flag into an open market, mouthwatering scents and sights spreading before him like a personal feast as he drifted in a trance to the first food stall he saw, his stomach rumbling loudly.

The back of his neck prickled as he paid for a cheese pastry and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. He glanced backward and caught a shadowy blur darting out of sight behind a cart of fat green melons.

Frowning, he continued on his way until he found a vendor selling beef skewers. He ducked beneath the cheerful, orange-and-white striped awning decorated with lines of faerie lights and flower baubles in the spirit of Fairfest. He handed the vendor some coins, one hand casually perched on the hilt of the dagger at his hip, waiting for some poor fool to slip a hand into his pocket.

Quinlan’s pulse quickened when the prickling intensified. He held his breath, nodding blankly as the beef skewer vendor gossiped about the upcoming ball and the expected attendance of the new Queen of Eradore. Then, as he felt the faintest touch at his hip, Quinlan whirled around his stalker and pulled his dagger out in one smooth motion, sliding it beneath their chin from behind with the beef skewer still in his other hand.

The vendor let out a startled squawk and cowered behind his cart.

“Nice try,” he murmured into the fabric of his stalker’s hood. “How about you give me one good reason not to spill your insides right here in the middle of the street, hm?”

“Whoa. Your voice gets really sexy when you’re threatening people.”

Quinlan snatched his blade back. “Asterin?”

She turned around, smirking, and he recognized the face Luna had given her. “I’m taller than you now.”

He sheathed his dagger. “Yeah, whatever.” Hearing her voice from the mouth of a stranger unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

“Oh, Immortals! What is that?” Asterin exclaimed with a theatrical gasp, pointing over his shoulder.

He whipped around. “What?” There was a pinch between his fingers. When he turned back, his mouth fell open in shock. “My beef skewer!”

In response, Asterin took a triumphant chomp of the stolen skewer. With a withering sigh, Quinlan offered a few more coppers to the vendor, who eyed the pair of them warily until they departed.

Shooting Quinlan a sly grin, Asterin linked her arm in his and nudged him onward to the next stall. She leaned close enough that he could smell the woodsmoke clinging to her hair every time she laughed and shook her head. They toured the square, bickering and teasing one another as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if they weren’t wearing strangers’ faces, trying to stave off thoughts of what was left to do.

Quinlan polished off a lemon meringue and licked his fingers. “You should’ve stayed at the inn.”

Asterin cocked a brow at him. “What’s the big deal? No one can recognize us, anyway.” She batted her eyelashes. Doe eyes, he thought. “And besides, if anything happens, you’ll be right here to save me.”

“No, I just meant that you should be resting.” Gruffly, he added, “And you don’t need anyone to save you. In fact, I’d bet good money that by now you can wield magic without the omnistone.”

Her eyes widened. “You really think so?”

“I do. I wasn’t expecting us to return so suddenly, so we didn’t get a chance to practice, but I do.” He exhaled. “Don’t count on it, though. Just … if something goes wrong, and—and you don’t have one …”

“Quinlan,” Asterin began. “If we die—”

His heart leapt into his throat. “Shut up,” he said. “Just shut up.”

She made an impatient noise. “Quinlan, please. The odds aren’t at all in our favor—”

“Don’t say that. We’ll beat the odds. We have to.”

“Quinlan—”

“No,” he said, the words coming so forcefully that he stopped walking right in the middle of the sidewalk. He closed his eyes, breathing. Just breathing.

Anxious fingers scrabbled for his. “Hey,” Asterin said. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

People jostled past them, but he still couldn’t bring himself to move.

A moment passed and Asterin spoke.

“My father and I made a bet once,” she began, fingers still wrapped around his. “I think I was four. Whoever lost had to eat whatever the winner wanted them to. I lost, and he made me drink an entire pot of beet juice.”

The thundering in his head began to quiet as he focused on her words, her voice, her touch.

“When I went to go relieve myself, I thought he’d poisoned me because … well, everything was blood red.”

A small grunt of laughter escaped him.

“I locked myself in my room for three days, crying my eyes out, until a healer revealed the cause. As revenge, I spent the next few years sneaking beets into my father’s food so he was forced to constantly consult the healer about defecation. The healer was in on it, though, so he would just advise my father to eat only cabbage for an entire week.”

Quinlan couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “You are unbelievable,” he muttered, eyes still closed.

“I know.” Her hands cradled his jaw and then guided him to her lips.

The sounds of the streets around them faded, and he lost himself to the kiss, anchored in the darkness by her touch.

When they parted, still blocking the sidewalk, Quinlan opened his eyes, heart heavy and aching in his chest. “Promise me you won’t die.”

She brushed his nose with hers. “I’ll try my very best.”

The declaration in no way eased his anxiety, but she took his mouth with hers when he tried to speak again. A growl rose from his throat and he caught her bottom lip between his teeth, hands roving possessively up her waist. She made a noise of surprise and then nipped back tentatively.

Damn, Quinlan thought, tilting her backward by the waist to deepen the kiss.

Some passerby cleared their throat loudly and Asterin broke away, cheeks tinged a most attractive pink. “W-we should head back.”

Quinlan tipped his chin in a grudging nod. As they walked, he intertwined their fingers and she grinned at him, bright as sunshine. And even though it wasn’t her face, it still took his breath away. Because somehow, beneath the illusion that concealed her appearance, it was still her.

“So, what was your favorite part of our little excursion?” she asked. “The lemon tarts? I liked those poached egg buns with the bits of bacon …”

Quinlan’s brows creased, the answer so painstakingly obvious that it almost hurt. “You.”

She punched his shoulder, hiding a smile, but she couldn’t conceal her blush. “You’re disgusting.”

The others were already waiting for them when they made it back up to the Diamond Suite. The walk to the Grand Hotel from the Singing Sword might have taken about twenty minutes—but with the increasing mobs of Fairfest celebrators cramming into the streets as evening fell, it would take far longer, and navigating as a group of seven would be near impossible. They could have split up into smaller groups, but Eadric was adamant about staying together, and Asterin claimed that she had a better idea, anyway.

Orion held open the door to the fire escape. He looked at Quinlan. “Ladies first.”

Quinlan rolled his eyes but complied, stepping onto the rickety metal stairs. The others filed out behind him, ascending the narrow escape to the roof. Tension filled the silence, thick and palpable. Their plan tonight counted on too many variables for Quinlan’s liking, but they had been short on both time and resources. Other than the few orders Eadric had sent through Alicia and Silas to the rest of the Elites, they could rely on no one but themselves.

Quinlan climbed onto the landing, Rose at his heels. You still have a duty to fulfill, he reminded himself. He couldn’t let anything happen to his queen tonight. Nor to Asterin. A grave thought lurked in his head, making his blood run cold. Tonight, if anything happened, Immortals forbid, and he had to make the fatal choice between them …

He stole a furtive glance at Asterin while Orion trudged up the stairs last. She exchanged hushed words with Harry, a few tendrils of brown hair escaping the hood of her cloak.

Once everyone had made it onto the roof, Orion shot them all a grin. “Everyone ready for a bit of roof jumping?”

“Don’t fall,” Asterin advised, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Roof jumping is actually quite safe as long as you make it to the other side.”

Quinlan snorted, jittery with anticipation. “We’ll try to keep that in mind, thanks.”

“Knees bent on the landing,” she added. “Don’t overthink it. And whatever you do, don’t look down.”

“Exactly how many times have you done this?” demanded Eadric. “I still can’t believe I’ve never been informed of this … this sport. What if one of you had fallen?”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Sorry, mum.” He backed up toward the edge of the roof and blew a kiss to the captain. “See you on the other side!”

With that, he barreled forward and launched himself over the vast chasm between the buildings, suspended over his death for a tantalizing second.

Quinlan’s breath hitched.

But Orion hit the ground—or rather, the roof—running, and rocketed onto the next without the slightest hesitation.

“Good luck, everyone.” Asterin flashed them a toothy grin. She cast Eadric an apologetic glance—not convincing in the least—before sprinting toward the gaping void. She soared over it, and then the next, and the next, never once looking back.

Just watching her made Quinlan’s stomach drop. “Immortals.”

Rose shot him a delighted grin, tugging at his sleeve like an overeager child. “Come on, then, Quinnie. We mustn’t fall behind.”

“Your keenness to throw yourself from rooftops is slightly troubling, cousin dearest,” he said.

Rose ignored him and sashayed toward the roof edge. Her expression shone with glee as she tore forward. She let out an elated whoop when she landed with scarcely a sound on the other side.

Luna stepped forward.

Quinlan watched Eadric give her a resolute pat on the back. “I’ll catch you if you trip,” he promised.

She gave him a look. “And why would I trip?” Without waiting for an answer, she barreled forward, leaving Eadric to scramble after her.

The two successfully made it across, which left Quinlan and Harry.

Quinlan cleared his throat. “Well?”

Harry shrugged, eyes dancing with mirth. “Ladies first.”

Quinlan chuckled half-heartedly. “Right.”

Taking a deep breath, he retraced the steps that the others had taken. He gathered his courage, and then dashed forward in a burst of speed. The edge of the roof rushed toward him and his heart leapt into his throat—

At that moment, when the ground yawned before him, much farther down than he remembered, he almost faltered. But then, in his mind, he saw Asterin take the jump. How effortlessly she had crossed that intimidating gap.

His magic sparked from his palms, a gust of wind shoving him forward.

He shot across and landed squarely on the other side, his heart pounding and adrenaline surging through his veins.

Quinlan trusted his body to do the work for him after that, his magic at hand when he needed a little boost, focusing instead on timing his leaps, growing more and more confident with each stride. A calm settled over him as he flew across the rooftops, sure and swift, soon overtaking Eadric and Luna, then eventually catching up to Rose and darting past her in a blur.

Up ahead, Asterin’s silhouette stood stark against the backdrop of coal clouds above the city sprawl. Her hood had fallen back, her hair catching the last of the daylight. He could almost see the wolf in her then—the agility and strength and purpose filling each powerful stride.

He joined her, and together they raced across the sky, perfectly in sync, their heavy breathing and the thud of footsteps the only sound in their ears as Axaris bled past them like watercolor on parchment.

His muscles burned. Every breath was fire in his lungs, hot and painful, but the ache only made him push himself harder. His heart beat like a drum, pounding in time with each footfall.

He felt alive.

A single misstep—that was all it would take for one of them to plummet off the roofs, toppling to their death. Quinlan saw it in his mind—a loose stone, maybe. The tumble through empty air, floundering desperately, trying to grab ahold of something, too stunned to do anything except fall. The ringing crack and the blinding pain that would follow, before blinking out into eternal blackness.

But he never lost his footing, and the stumble never came.

The storm clouds overhead had only darkened by the time Quinlan caught his first unobstructed glimpse of the mountain. The palace rose from it like a majestic, fiery crystal. Tendrils of fog and mist curled around the topmost turrets like the smoky breaths of a sleeping dragon, sullen rain clouds shrouding the crimson pennants snapping in the wind. Amber light spilled out of the windows and winked from the lanterns lining the mountain road. He could already see the bright carriages snaking up the mountain like a handful of scattered sweets, disappearing beneath the Wall one by one.

Before he knew it, Quinlan spotted Orion waiting for them at their destination up ahead. Together, he and Asterin leapt for the final rooftop and skidded to a halt.

He doubled over, bracing his hands against his knees and gulping in lungfuls of oxygen, wheezing for a solid minute before he began to laugh.

Asterin wiped her forehead, shoulders heaving. “What?”

“That was …” He paused to catch his breath, pulse still galloping. “Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”

Orion snickered. “I thought you would have been in better shape, Quinnie.”

Asterin squinted. “Speaking of out of shape, where are the others?”

Quinlan zeroed in on a growing speck in the distance. “There’s Rose.” Luna, Eadric, and Harry were nowhere to be seen.

His cousin’s face broke into a weary grin as she crossed the last gap and then collapsed onto the roof in a disheveled heap. “That,” Rose panted, “was exhausting. Still better than a carriage, though.” She looked up at Quinlan. “Let’s do it again when we get home.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Rosie,” he said. “Our roofs are curved. You’d probably twist something.”

Rose pouted. “Would not.”

“Would too.”

Orion shielded a hand over his eyes. “Ah, here come Luna and Eadric.”

Asterin let out a little gasp. “No way.”

Rose craned her neck. “What? What is it?”

“I think … Immortals, Luna is beating him!”

Captain Covington was, in fact, lagging behind the lovely lady-in-waiting, his face haggard and expression decidedly flustered.

“Yes!” Asterin cackled. Rose scrambled to her feet and started cheering, both Quinlan and Orion joining her. “Go! Run, Luna!”

Luna made it over the final jump and staggered into Asterin’s waiting arms, both girls laughing.

“You’ve been sitting on your ass too long, Cap!” Orion yelled as Eadric made the second-to-last jump.

As he barreled forward, the captain’s head snapped up to reveal his scowl. “Oh, shut it—”

And that was when things went awry.

Quinlan watched in horror as the distraction caused Eadric, less than three feet away from the final gap, to trip. Time slowed. Eadric’s expression morphed from irked embarrassment to shock, his face slackening. He skittered sideways, flailing wildly, his arms shooting out to try and keep upright—

The toe of his boot caught on the roof ledge and he somersaulted into the void. Luna lunged forward, crying out, her hand outstretched as if to catch him. Quinlan saw the very scene he had dreaded earlier play out before his eyes. The stumble, the desperate floundering, Eadric too stunned to do anything else except fall.

The ringing crack and the blinding pain that would surely follow, before blinking out into eternal blackness.

The rest of them summoned their magic, but Eadric was already falling, arms spread like broken wings, abandoned by the Immortals.