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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

NEAH

Z ennon had seemed quiet all day. Neah had found her standing on the edge of the royal gardens, staring out into the forest with a layer of mist caught in the wind-blown tangles of her hair. She hadn’t said much, just that she’d gone for a walk with the king, and that had been that.

She hadn’t said another word about it—not through dinner, not while they got ready for bed, and by the time breakfast came about it was as if her walk with the king had never happened.

The air of melancholy had faded, but Neah knew her sister well.

She would tell Neah what was on her mind when she was ready.

Now wasn’t the time to ruminate on it, anyway.

The tavern Neah found herself in was large, but crowded.

Noisy. The perfect meeting place for someone not wanting to be overhead or noticed.

It was something she was using to her own advantage too, tucked in a shadowy corner of the long, square bar and observing who came in and out of the front entrance while she kept her back firmly against the wall behind her.

Jamison’s intel was usually reliable, so she kept her wits about her as the evening wore on and she nursed her ale, content to fade into the background.

A good spy could blend with a crowd as easily as they could command it when needed, but the lesser known skill of the spy was spotting those who also didn’t want to be seen.

Much like the two cloaked figures who had just approached the bar, placed their drink order, and then promptly left without waiting for their ale. A code , she surmised, as the barkeep didn’t look perturbed by their departure.

Neah slipped out after them, keeping her steps light and her hood pulled low.

The darkness of the bricked passageway would have been complete if not for her enhanced vision, she could only assume that at least one of the cloaked figures was also a shifter—or they used the passage so frequently they knew it well.

Neither conclusion particularly comforted Neah.

Unfamiliar territory, unknown threats… she much preferred to have all the info rather than going in blind. But needs must and if these two could help her get the information she needed about the king’s enemies then it would be worth the uncertainty.

The sounds from the tavern faded as they walked the length of the darkened alley.

It narrowed until it was little more than a breath between buildings and she was glad that she’d never been affected by enclosed spaces or she might have been struggling about now.

A soft murmur of voices told her they were getting close to wherever they were going and Neah hung back as the alley widened, waiting to see where the two men would go next.

It looked like the alley ended abruptly in a bricked-off enclosure, and for a second she was worried she’d walked into a trap, but then one of the cloaked figures reached out and rapped his knuckles on a brick on the wall to their left.

Neah blinked and where the bricks had been instead stood a door, clearly spelled to hide its existence from anyone who didn’t already know it was there.

A brief flare of noise sounded when the door opened and the two figures stepped inside.

She narrowed her eyes, what was this place?

And how did the assassin’s benefactor know about it?

It had to be the meeting place, considering it also held a noise dampening spell in addition to the cloaking.

Everything about this set-up screamed off the radar trouble .

Neah hovered in the shadows, deciding whether or not to risk following the men, when the door re-opened and they stepped back out into the dark space where Neah waited.

They didn’t notice her, but they would if she remained still any longer—they had to go past her to get back the way they’d come.

So, Neah stalked forward straight to the hidden door.

Whether her knowing its location was enough for them or if it was the confidence of her stride, she couldn’t know, but they walked away without a glance at her.

Their reaction furthered confirmed her suspicions of this place: ask no questions you wouldn’t answer, and the two men hadn’t hung around for idle chatter.

The darkness swallowed them up and Neah lowered her hand from where it hesitated in front of the door. If this wasn’t where the meeting was, why did they go inside?

She waited half a beat and then followed the two figures back the way they’d come, unsurprised when they came back through the tavern and exited the way the regular customers did, through the front entrance.

They walked for a further five minutes, until they ducked into another alley—a less secret one this time—where another two men waited dressed in a similar garb of dark boots and cloaks.

What the Hel was going on?

All four of them held parchment scrolls, but Neah couldn’t risk getting any closer to see who the seal might belong to without getting caught.

Their murmurs were too quiet for even her sensitive hearing and she was just debating whether she could climb atop of the closest building, a tailors, and get closer via the roof when a hand fell to her shoulder.

She jumped, too intent on the four unknown assailants ahead of her to notice the person coming up on her from behind. Sloppy , she chastised herself, before grabbing onto the hand that had touched her and squeezing hard enough that she was surprised the bones didn’t grind together.

“Ouch, fuck. Fuck . Neah—it’s me.”

No. She dropped the hand like it had stung her and spun to take in her attacker. Fuck. How did she keep beating up the king? Or, perhaps the better question was what the Hel was he doing here?

She asked him as much and he looked at her incredulously. “Following you.” He said it as if the answer was obvious and she wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or impressed that she hadn’t sensed him tailing her.

“Go home, Your Majesty.” She kept the words cold, stiff and unyielding. The last thing she needed was to be responsible for the king’s murder while she was actively trying to hunt down his would-be attackers. Although… he would make good bait.

She dismissed the thought as soon as she had it. Too risky.

“After you,” he said, and she glared. Too loud, he was going to get them both caught.

“Shut. Up.” She hissed the words and his eyes widened, like nobody ever talked to him that way, and she couldn’t deny the pleasure that gave her as she turned her back on him. “Go away.”

“Not until you tell me what you’re doing here.” He leaned in closer, the smoky warm scent of him filling her senses and, for a damning second, she enjoyed the smell of it—until she realised he was peering around her and into the alley.

“Hey!”

“Fuck.” He just had to call attention to them, didn’t he?

“Now you’ve bloody done it.” Neah could hear footsteps approaching, the vibration on the cobblestones echoing the pounding of her heart in her chest. Wren, for the most part, looked alarmed, more so when she grabbed him with fistfuls of his white shirt.

Goddess, he wasn’t even dressed for subterfuge.

“Not a word,” she growled, and then crushed her lips to his.

He gasped into her and she groaned. The rough brick of the tailor’s shop bit into the back of her head as he pressed her against the hard surface, not so much as a breath between their bodies.

She had enough sense to open her eyes and check for the approaching assassins before realising if they were going to do this, they needed to sell it.

Neah yanked the side of her cloak up and, for once, cursed her decision to wear trousers as a slip of leg would have been far more effective in that moment. But she gave it her all, regardless.

One leg hooked at Wren’s hip, her hands pressed into his hair, mussing it as she dragged him closer, devouring him with her mouth as she coaxed him closer with her body.

His heat pressed into her, surrounding her as one rough hand closed around her throat, cradling her with enough pressure to hold her in place but not to hurt, before his mouth coaxed hers open.

Wren kissed like he was starved, desperate, and when he plundered her mouth, taking what he wanted, she melted.

“Nothing,” she dimly heard the man who’d come to check on things say, “just a couple who couldn’t make it back to their room.

” His laughter was harder to ignore and for a second it seemed like he would stay to watch the show.

Thankfully, a few seconds later he walked away—just in time, because Wren had finally noticed their observer and a growl rumbled through him strong enough that she felt it as if it were her own, the sound sending a bolt of heat straight between her legs.

As soon as the man disappeared, she shoved Wren away, panting hard. He made to step back toward her, as if in a daze, and halted abruptly when she snarled.

“Enough. Let’s get out of here before they decide to come back and watch us fuck.

” Her words were sharp, but Wren looked relaxed, at ease, like he’d just had a question answered.

“We need to talk,” she said, more slowly, and he nodded, stepping toward her like he might take her hand.

“Let’s not, okay? We did what we had to in the moment. ”

His nostrils flared but he maintained the distance, a smirk on his face that unnerved her. “If that’s the way you want to play it, caritas . But I think we both know what I just smelled on you.”

“Heat of the moment,” she lied. “Now let’s go, before I change my mind and turn you over to them.”

He chuckled and she grimaced as they began the walk back to the palace. The small town wasn’t too far away, about a thirty minute walk at best, she just hoped they could delay the inevitable confrontation until they were safe from prying eyes and ears.