Page 193 of Lana Pecherczyk

The sense of forbidden grated against River’s nerves. It went against everything they stood for as Guardians, but the land was still rich in mana. The objects were simply transient passengers. If they remained long enough in one spot, the Well would withdraw mana. The land would become desecrated. Crows loved finding workarounds, which was why the Shadow Market was open for one night only.

River recognized faces from his murder’s lowest roosts bartering alongside those relegated to the amphitheater’shighest tiers. Each came prepared with insulated bags to carry their Well-cutting treasure safely home. Status meant nothing here, only what treasures you brought to trade. Unless, of course, you were a Guardian.

Wrongness continued to pulse through River, making his gut squirm. But destroying this time-honored crow tradition felt like a betrayal. Besides, not all wares here were made of metal or plastic. Some were forbidden for entirely different reasons.

They moved through the crowd, pretending to study trinkets while keeping each other in their peripheral vision. A master thief’s tent caught River’s eye. Polished lockpicks were arranged like surgical tools beside wingtip silencers. A sign proclaimed dark journals bound in leather held family weaknesses inside. River stopped, fingers hovering over a book with the Winter Court crest visible beneath layers of dust and dirt.

“Could be useful on a mission,” he murmured, glancing back.

Ash’s jaw flexed, shoulders rigid, gaze fixed ahead. “Maybe.”

River abandoned the journals. “Can you sense her?”

Ash nodded curtly toward the far end of the market, where a tall female crowned with feathers and glittering beads squawked at a trader’s stall. Even from this distance, her energy distorted the air, creating ripples that patrons avoided. The trader cowered before her, wings tucked tight against his spine as they bartered.

“Fuck me,” River whispered. “She hasn’t changed a bit.”

The Collector’s birdlike face was still as oddly beautiful and terrifying at once. Even the way her wings and arms were the same didn’t seem so odd. Ash ground his teeth so hard it clicked. He took a step backward, away from his mother. Shit. If they didn’t make their move now, Ash would lose his nerve.

“Let’s jump.” River started forward, into the fray, only to slam into a body that stepped directly in his path.

Cloud. The V-mark stood out against his pale skin. Guardian uniform, polished daggers catching manabee lanternlight. The Order of the Well’s insignia gleamed in full sight. Not even attempting to disguise himself.

“ForCrimson’ssake.” River and Ash dragged Cloud into the shadows between the nearest stall and the forest. “What are you doing here dressed like that?”

“Why not?” Cloud’s voice was as flat as his gaze.

A sharp caw pierced the night. Then another. The warning multiplied, rippling outward from sentinel to sentinel. River risked a glance around the edge of their stall and glimpsed the Collector’s gaze snapping skyward, searching.

He ducked back and summoned mana to create a silencing shield around them. “How did you sneak past the sentinels?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ash said. “If you’re here to fuck up our mission?—”

“She doesn’t have it here,” Cloud said. “The cryptex.”

Unease prickled River’s skin. “And?”

“And I know where it is,” he replied, eyes skating away. “I’m headed there later.” He hesitated, fingers twitching at his sides. “But the tribunal…”

“Aren’t you supposed to be there now?” Ash folded his arms.

Cloud took a step back and ran his gaze over Ash as if seeing him for the first time. His brows raised higher with each increment covered. “Why the fuck are you in Cardona ceremonials?”

“Fuck you, too.” Ash scowled.

Cloud sent River a look that said,What’s up with him?

He replied by flicking his gaze toward the Collector’s last known location, hinting at the obvious reason. The silent communication settled something between them. Cloud’s shoulders relaxed. Contentment curled around River’s heart.Whatever rift had appeared would soon close. He knew it. It gave him hope. They would find time to talk properly later tonight.

“So why aren’t you at the tribunal?” he repeated.

A hearing was notoriously closed to the public, except for individuals from the associated kettle. River and Ash had not been approached to offer defense, but that wasn’t unusual. No one outside the Order gave a shit about a Guardian’s opinion.

“I’ve said what I needed to say.” Fingers tapped on leather-clad thighs. “But if you two go … it might help if you…”

“Speak on your behalf?” Ash raised his brow.

A curt nod. “Especially you, River.”