Page 40 of Contested Crown

I frowned. Cade was not subtle, and I imagined what would happen if he got caught. “Can I do it?”

“You?” Cade frowned. “Yes. Maybe.”

“I just have to touch people?” I asked. “Anywhere specific?”

Cade shook his head. “No. It shouldn’t matter.”

“All right. Let’s do it.”

After I washed my hands, we walked across the lobby to the restaurant. It was the middle of the afternoon, and the bar was busy, but we were able to get a table without waiting. As we sat, Cade tapped his fingers nervously. I reached out, pressing my hand on top of his.

When he looked at me, his eyes were panicked.

“Let’s leave,” I said. “We don’t have to do this.”

Cade’s lips set, and he pulled his chin up. Without speaking, I saw thin lines of magic flow over the table, wrapping around my wrist. It felt like nothing, but it looked as thick as a manacle. Cade was sweating, his face pale. He looked on the verge of passing out.

“You okay?” I asked under my breath.

“Fine,” he said shortly. “Can you work quickly?”

I nodded, waving over the waitress. As she came close, I let my hand swing wide, accidentally bumping her elbow. She frowned and took a half step back, but it was annoyance, not fear, in her expression.

“Any specials today?” I asked.

After she rattled them off, I ordered for me and Cade, then waited until she had returned to the kitchen before standing.

The patrons at the bar were a lazy weekday afternoon crowd. I could tell most of them were vacationers just by their clothes, too many Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts. It was easy to touch shoulders and elbows as I pushed my way to the bar.

Once there, I held up two fingers, indicating one of the beers on tap.

When the bartender passed them over, I let his hand brush mine. His eyes lit, going interested for a moment. I let myself focus on the drinks, pretending I was having trouble holding them steady, but in reality, I was watching. The thinnest line of tattoo moved around his wrist, darting under the hem of his plaid shirt.

If I hadn’t been watching for it, I never would’ve noticed it. I paid in cash, making a show of spilling change all over the floor. A couple of people bent to help me, and it was easy to brush my hand against theirs when they handed me back the change.

By the time I got back to Cade, my wrist was bare. I had a moment of loss, and I thought about the collar lost at House Bartlett.

Cade looked marginally better when I sat down, and he took the beer but didn’t drink any.

“We need to make sure everyone scatters,” Cade said.

“They’re on vacation. They’re all probably headed out in a bit.” I took a sip of the beer. Too hoppy, it was a typical California IPA.

“No. The mages are after us. It only took them an hour to find us at the park.” Cade stared at me, his blue eyes searching mine. He expected me to have answers to every question he was going to ask.

There was something heady in that, something impossible. For a moment, I wanted to lose myself in that faith, in the fact that someone believed in me.

Then I remembered the last people who had believed in me—the werewolf pups. I swallowed. I wouldn’t let Cade become like them. I wasn’t going to let anyone take him away from me.

“Fire alarm,” I murmured. I took a long drink, and the waitress returned with our food.

Cade nodded. “That’s good. That’s?—”

He stared over my shoulder, and I knew what was behind me before he even said anything. The restaurant had two entrances, one from the hotel lobby, one from the street. On a beautiful, perfect California day, they’d opened up the outdoor seating.

Glancing around, I caught sight of one of the mages with the House Morrison crest, crossed with a line.

His eyes glowed, and he made his way through the crowd like a hunting dog, his eyes searching each person before moving on.