17. The Choices We Make

“Do you wish to wake the entire town, Elle?” Her friend in a dull, green dress that was too long for her short stature and appeared dirtied around the bottom—Victoria, I believe—hissed. “You must stop this nonsense immediately.”

“Do you disagree?” Elle said loudly, throwing her hands onto her hips in a dramatic fashion.

“You know, I don’t. But you can’t be such a nuisance. You’ll get us in trouble!”

“Now, ladies. It may be best we keep moving,” Victoria’s husband Oswald said, placing his hand on Victoria’s back and gently nudging her forward as he cast nervous glances at the groups around them who had stopped their conversations to stare.

Elle was unconcerned and simply threw her nose up in the air and followed her two friends. This woman was a character, and she was sure to make my night much more interesting. I stealthily leapt from the tall building I was on to the one just beneath it, careful to roll as I landed to avoid both injuring myself and making too much noise. Once I was safe, I picked myself up and followed the three unsuspecting people just beneath me on the ground below.

“I don’t know what the fuss is,” Elle said loudly as they continued walking. “Am I not allowed to voice my opinion?”

“You are welcome to say what you feel, but perhaps in a more quiet tone,” Victoria argued. “Seriously, what do you expect to accomplish by yelling at the top of your lungs on a busy street corner other than public shame and embarrassment?”

“Sympathetic agreement from people too concerned with other’s opinions to speak their mind.”

“And you wonder why they don’t invite us,” Victoria grumbled, pushing the door to a house open and leading the way inside.

I pressed my lips together and rubbed my forehead. So much for that tail. They were ending their night rather than beginning it, but at least I gained just a bit of information before they were gone. I listened intently for more voices and flew across the rooftops with ease as I followed. Music played, and people danced both in the street and around several tables set outdoors. This may be better.

Men and women dressed in nice clothes—though not as nice as the dresses I saw at the party—laughed and talked and carried on with one another, and I watched for hours, listening to pointless jabs between friends and useless talk of weather and parties. I propped myself up on one elbow, doing my best to avoid falling asleep at my perch as I listened and waited. But then, I spotted the silver eyes and black hair that had seemed to invade nearly every thought of mine for weeks on end, though this time, he wasn’t looking at me. He was speaking pleasantly with another woman—a group of them, in fact.

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And one of those women, I feel I’d never forget her face again. Not the red hair. And most certainly not the dainty cast around her wrist.

Margaret.

What are you doing with her, Theo?

I shot up, nearly making myself visible before I forced myself back down. Did he lie to me? Was he truly the dog the rumors made him out to be? But even more importantly, why does it make my heart ache and my stomach bubble with anger. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t, but I do. He’s not my Theo. He’s the Kingmaker’s son. I need to let him go. Why can’t I?

I held my breath as his face turned toward the roof, but it didn’t stay, so I was certain he didn’t see me. His eyes flicked up toward the sky where Onyx circled overhead. Surely, he was just observing the clouds—even I struggled to see her form, and I knew she was there. Right?

“It’s been a pleasure speaking with you ladies,” he said with a bow, and I rolled my eyes as all the women giggled and fanned themselves.

“Margaret?” he said to that vile woman with red hair and the nicest dress out of all of them, extending his arm toward her and walking away from the crowd as soon as she slid her unbroken wrist through it. I decided to follow. After all, what better tail could I possibly find than the son of the Kingmaker himself?

The moment Theo and Maragaret were away from the prying eyes of the busy street, he removed her arm from his and spaced himself from her by several paces. “You know, people would be more likely to believe you if you didn’t act like I had the plague the moment we were alone,” Margaret sighed, her sickly sweet voice sending bile to my throat.

“I think people have no problem believing me regardless,” Theo quipped, his voice cold and unfeeling.

“I don’t know why you insist on dates in such a poor town. It’s not like either of us are wanting for money.”

“I have my reasons for wishing to remain around Twinvale and Rodenwhal. Neither of them concern you. I made it clear I have no desire to share my personal life with you.”

I kicked myself at the giddiness I felt when Theo’s sharp words sang in my ears, then continued to follow them all the way to an immaculate house near the edge of town. It wasn’t far from the palace, but it was much nicer than any of the other buildings. I assume this must also belong to Margaret and that rich father of hers. I stifled an unusual growl that bubbled in my stomach as Theo walked her to the door and then physically hit myself in the arm. What was wrong with me? I can’t permit these feelings to continue.

“Have a good night, Margaret,” Theo said in that same, cold tone he used moments ago. He never spoke to me like that, not even when he was angry and thought I tried to kill him.

“Are you sure you have to leave?” she asked, extending a hand toward him and frowning the moment he backed away without permitting her to touch him. “You’re such a prude, Theodore Branwyn,” Margaret snapped, slamming the door as Theo walked away.

I continued to follow Theo, perhaps he’s meeting someone else now. I’m sure there’s useful information I could gain from this—that’s the only reason I kept following, right? He turned down a completely empty street, and I nearly lost him in the dark night, but his throaty chuckle filled the air, and I caught a glimmer of his tall figure leaning casually against a building. “I know you’re following me, Mouse. You can stop hiding now.”