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Callan

Callan shuffled through the papers of scribbles and notes and maps they had crudely drawn. The flickering fire in the center of the cave was his only source of light, and Azrael was currently adding more kindling to keep it burning. He’d never imagined having to hide in his own kingdom, yet here he was, tucked as far back in a cave as they could get.

Azrael had Traveled them just outside the tunnel system that ran under Baylorin. It was an expansive network that made moving about the city easier. It had also been proven time and again that others knew the network of tunnels better than the king’s men. They could only assume Alaric and the Maraans knew the tunnels just as well, so they’d agreed to avoid them all together. Scarlett and her sisters had used the tunnels numerous times for their jobs, not to mention it was Scarlett’s primary way of getting in and out of the castle when she would come to him.

Gods. That was a lifetime ago. That was a prince who knew nothing of sacrifice or loss and who was denied nothing, and a girl who knew nothing but sacrifice and loss and an unending, simmering fury.

For two days, he and Azrael had stuck to shadows and back alleys. They had scouted and watched as men Callan did not know patrolled the streets of the capital city of Windonelle. There were seraphs on street corners and in the skies. There were curfews in effect. Taxes had been increased to pay for the extra protection from the Fae, and if you could not pay, you were assigned extra duties at the castle.

So no one was batting an eye at the slums slowly being emptied of its residents as they were carted away to pay off their debts owed to the kingdom. After all, they were getting the same protection as everyone else. Of course they should be paying for it. That was the murmurings Callan picked up in taverns and on the streets.

After spending the days in the city gathering information, they came back here, to the caves along the sea. There was a pier a ways down the beach that Callan knew was a popular location for revelry among the upper and middle-class citizens, but they rarely wandered this far down the beach. Not with the towering cliffs that blocked the way farther down.

Callan had spent every moment of his time with Azrael learning how he had worked with all the people in his Court— the wealthy and the commoners, the males and the females. They’d also discussed how he’d handled relations with outside Courts. That had been interesting. His Court obviously got along fine with Ashtine’s Court, but navigating the Fire and Water Courts had been tricky. Callan didn’t anticipate issues with Rydeon or Toreall, but it was useful knowledge for the future if any disagreements ever arose.

But the mortal kings needed to reclaim their thrones before they worried about that.

And first they needed to earn the trust of their people.

Azrael moved back over to him, dropping onto the ground. They’d grabbed bedrolls when they’d hastily gathered their belongings in Siofra. Thankfully, he’d been somewhat packed, but they hadn’t been planning to leave for another few days. As such, he only had a change of clothing. That had aided their cause, he supposed. They blended in more in dirty clothing, even if it was still of finer make than most had. Other than that, Callan had a cloak and the items in his pocket he refused to leave lying about anywhere.

“You are ready for tonight?” Azrael asked as Callan passed him some of the bread and dried meat they’d purchased in the markets earlier that day.

“If we can get even one person in the poor districts to talk to us, we will count tonight a victory,” Callan replied, taking a bite of his own meal.

“And you still believe this Mary Ellen woman will aid you?” Azrael mused, studying the vague maps before them. Callan could count on one hand how many times he had been in that district of Baylorin.

Shame crawled through him at the thought.

“Out of all the people I have encountered there, which admittedly is not many, she was the most knowledgeable of the happenings. She was also the most accepting. Her place seemed to be some sort of haven for them,” Callan replied. “She is our best bet at learning anything new tonight.”

Azrael nodded. “Then we start there.”

They sat in silence, finishing their meals and waiting until the hour they would venture out again. He was sure the prince’s thoughts were on a female that had been given over to Alaric, wondering if she still breathed. Callan’s own thoughts were on Tava, as they always were in the quiet moments.

There had been no word on the streets of the Tyndell children returning home, but he supposed there wouldn’t be. Lord Tyndell had done his job thoroughly in keeping them sequestered. Tava always said she was in the background, and Balam had made sure that’s where she’d stayed. He’d effectively done the same with Drake in a way. He wondered if many even realized that Drake and Tava had been gone. Drake, perhaps, with his lower position in the kingdom’s forces, but Tava?

The thought of trying to get her a message somehow had briefly crossed his mind, but he knew they couldn’t risk it. If Lord Tyndell was trying to keep their return a secret, someone showing up with a note would certainly make him suspicious.

When their fire had burned down to embers, Azrael put it out the rest of the way after they’d donned their cloaks. Faces obscured deep in their hoods and weapons—mainly daggers and knives to allow for faster movements if they needed to run—hidden just as well, they set off, sticking to the outskirts of the city as long as possible. When they finally crossed into the city proper, they passed through back alleys and side streets. It took nearly an hour to get to the poor districts with this roundabout maneuvering.

One hand positioned on a dagger beneath his cloak, they slowed their pace when they finally made it to the streets of the slums. The streets were completely empty. No one was on the corners or in the alleys like he had witnessed before. The curfew had effectively cleared every area of the city. He knew Azrael was taking in every detail as they moved. They’d debated coming during the day, but had decided they’d rather risk having to make an escape than being recognized in the daylight.

“Which way?” Azrael murmured.

Having only been to the woman’s house once, Callan wasn’t entirely sure. He’d only been here at night, but that didn’t help him navigate the place now. The clouds obscured the moon, and there were no candles in the windows of the run-down houses. They ended up starting on the left and working their way through the various streets. It took several blocks before Callan recognized the alley where they had found Ivan. There were no people gathered around fires or huddled in coats and blankets this night though.

“Do you think they have all of them?” Callan asked in a hushed whisper as they turned another corner.

“The hunted become highly skilled at hiding,” Azrael replied in a flat tone. “And those who are already used to being ignored are even more adept at moving about unseen. It is all they know.”

Callan didn’t say anything after that.

Minutes later, they found themselves on the creaking porch of Mary Ellen’s home. It was as dark as every other building, and they waited a few extra minutes after Callan tried knocking a few times. The door was locked, and, surprisingly, the lock held.

They were debating if Azrael should use his magic to break in so they could at least see if anyone was in there, when the Earth Prince was whirling with a long knife drawn. Callan turned to find a group of six guards stalking up the street towards them. They were completely in black, their faces beneath hoods. Callan didn’t know if he knew these men from the castle or not. He doubted it would matter either way.

Azrael and Callan waited as they approached. Azrael shuffled a little closer, preparing to Travel if necessary, but they didn’t want to reveal a Fae was here if they didn’t have to.