35. Tales of petty criminals

The celestial sky painted across the ceiling was lost to Raeph's dark form. He propelled Ada into the wall, her back hitting bare stone and elbows knocking bookcases. Raeph loomed over her, and he was close enough for Ada to see the slivers of pale skin between his shirt collar and cloth mask.

The pounding on the door continued, and Raeph shoved her closer against the wall. Stray strands of raven hair fluttered across her temples, and his hide belt jutted into Ada's waist. Every breath she drew puffed her chest into Raeph's, his body curving over her, sharing a cloak of shadows.

Ada hardly heard Solen hiss up the staircase for Armestrong, her voice muffled behind the bar and a shelf of glass bottles. She had rolled from the bartop in a flurry of braided leather and stained cotton, tugging the bandolier of silver knives down with her. The fist hammered on the door once again, and Solen swore.

Armestrong came running down the serpentine stairwell, her feet sending up shivers of dust as she blustered past the bar. She reached the door, and for a moment, Ada could hear nothing at all. She didn't dare move a muscle, even as Raeph's fingertips dug divots into her left shoulder.

Then, Armestrong drew back a bolt lock with a clang loud enough to peel back the painted stars above, and yanked the door open. A clatter of chains split the air, striking in from the street, and carved up Ada's senses.

"Good evening, madam. Excuse my late intrusion," said a man. He spoke in easy lilts, with a voice of shrewd confidence. But the rattle of heavy chains punctuated his sentences, and each word he spoke grated through a meshing of metal. The Hound continued, "May I step in for a moment?"

Raeph's body stilled, the column of his throat thrust up like a pillar of marble that sliced across Ada's angled vision. His head edged to one side, quivering her hair as he listened to the conversation at the door.

But he needn't have strained, because Armestrong answered, "No, you most certainly will not. Night has already fallen, and it's been a long while since this pub has been open for guests."

She spoke in an accent more polished than her usual, though her last words were as pointed as a knife's tip. There was another rattle, the Hound shifting as if not used to being refused, before he cleared his throat.

"I can assure you that it will only take a moment," he said, and there was a thud of boots hitting the threshold. "I have information that there has been a sighting of bandits near your home, and while I am sure you would never consider housing such ruffians, there remains the matter that they may be using this building as a refuge without your knowledge."

If Armestrong's words had been a blade, his were soaked in poison. There was a rustle as Armestrong smoothed down her apron and stepped into the doorframe, dropping her courtly accent.

"I have been in my home this entire evening. No one has entered or left. See these here bolts on the frame? I lock my doors just like the rest of this city does," Armestrong said, matching the Hound in tone and temperament. "I would suggest you check your sources, especially on a night hit by the Stone Circle. Speaking of, aren't you Hounds meant to be tracking them down? I'm sure you'll find it far more productive than following tales of petty criminals."

"That I would be, madam, were this case not of substantial value. You see, a fellow of mine detailed this incident directly to me," the Hound replied sharply. "He witnessed two women, one in possession of a flower he believes to have been cast upon. Unfortunately, he cannot be here to give his own account, as he's currently receiving treatment for some rather nasty injuries he sustained."

Every part of Raeph was taut against Ada, a string against her bow, ready to loose if she made the slightest movement. She didn't. Not even as she spied her velvet cloak, tossed across a bar stool, with Min's flower in its pocket. But she scarcely focused on it, the Hound's words echoing through her head as a conflicting sense of relief and horror washed across her skin. Two women. No girl. No child. Min hadn't been reported.

"You're a Hound, aren't you? Wouldn't you be able to sense the magic, if there was any?" Armestrong countered, and Ada's blood ran cold. "I may not be able to smell out magic myself, but one thing I do know is that they'll have your iron if you accuse an innocent citizen of casting."

Raeph huffed a breath, tickling her cheek as his hand flickered down to grip her hip. He crushed them both between the bookshelves, so tightly that the wall's bricks bit through Ada's shirt and down her spine. She didn't feel its cold though, not as Raeph's chest crowded against hers. His fingers had felt glacial before, but now her skin smouldered so fiercely she feared she may be left as little more than cinders.

The Hound hadn't answered, and a hush seeped from the entrance and around the room. Armestong shifted again, and her boot began tapping paces on the floor. Her voice was almost pleasant when she said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, my broth'll be boiling over unless I get back to my stirring. So unless you would like to check that it's no wicked potion, I'll bid you a good evening."

Nobody dared to breathe, and not a whisper passed from the doorway. Ada could feel her hipbones beginning to bruise, and she bit back the hiss circling around her tongue.

"Sleep well, madam," the Hound said, and then the rattle of chains receded into the city.

For several moments, nothing moved. Not even as Armestrong shut the door, drew its bolts, and fastened its locks. She sucked in a breath, and then crumpled a sigh.

Raeph eased his hold, though his fingers lingered at her waist. Ada went to push him away, but realised she had fisted her hands into the front of his shirt. They seemed to notice at the same time, both staring down at the dark fabric bunched between her palms.

His eyes flickered up to meet hers, only inches away. They were not stones of obsidian, Ada realised, but a deep brown, perhaps the colour of freshly turned earth, seeded only with black pupils, now blown out wide in the shadows.

Ada untangled her fingers and flattened her hands, hard and unyielding against his chest, as she thrust him away. He stumbled back, and the memory of him reeling away across the forest path, letter in hand, shimmered into her mind. She narrowed her eyes, surging out from between the bookshelves without casting him a passing glance.

"Magic?" Armestrong breathed, her voice quaking with a promised fury.

Solen sprang up immediately. "There wasn't any magic. I can promise you, we only met for the combat lesson, nothing illegal. Well, nothing too illegal."

Her grimace couldn't quite pass as a smile when she finished speaking, her eyes darting to Ada. Solen hadn't asked where she had disappeared off to that afternoon. Though Armestrong was bristling as if she knew all too well.

A floorboard groaned from the top of the staircase, and they all jolted. Solen swore as Lark stuck his head between the bannisters, ashen-faced and staring at the door. His red hair flamed brighter still in the firelight, and colour seemed to sweep back into the taproom as he let out a shaky chuckle.

"Bloody hell," Lark said. "Bit late to be making house calls. I hope you told him to piss off back to the dog pound."

Armestrong snorted, her attention shifting as she muttered a string of curses to the room. Ada grasped for her cloak, the velvet soothing her hot skin. She felt the weight of the flower bump against her knee, and it seemed twice as heavy as it had only an hour before.

Raeph cut off everyone's murmurings. "The actions of the Stone Circle always set the city on edge. But we don't know how long it will last, or when the Circle may strike again. I think it's now better we act sooner. We don't have the luxury of biding our time anymore."

Solen bit her lip, face distorted in bottle reflections and firelight. But Lark nodded, his hands gripping a wooden baluster as though it were a golden rapier.

Raeph turned to Ada, silhouetted by a window pouring in moonlight. "We leave the city at dawn."