Page 48 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

~ JANN ~

“Are you pale?” Diadre whispered, her teeth flashing in a smile in the dark.

I stared up at the massive walls of the defeated city above us. “I’ve never been comfortable in the presence of sorcery—and these walls are two horse-lengths thick!” I growled back.

“This isn’t sorcery,” Diadre chuckled. “But it’s good to know that’s all it takes to lower the Great Jannus the Halfling. Remind me to bring one of the wizards with us when we leave. He’ll keep you humble.”

“Try it,” I muttered. “I’ll stuff the witch into a hollow tree-stump. I’d like to see him conjure so much as a fucking feather with his neck snapped and eating his own genitals.”

Diadre swallowed what would have been laughter, I was pretty sure. I glared at her, then rolled my head on my neck, because I hated fucking sorcerers and their perversions.

“Jann, you conjure wings. How can you—”

“That is not magik,” I muttered. “It’s something we’re all born with.”

“So is my shadow walking.”

I shrugged, not convinced, but also not wanting to argue about it further. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

I looked a warning down at her when her lips twitched again like she might laugh at me, but instead she opened her hand so I could take it, then swing her up into my chest.

“Just keep walking,” she whispered. “And no, you won’t walk into the earth, I told you. You’re going to walk exactly as you would if the wall weren’t here.”

“It’s fucking thick, Dee.”

“That’s what I said,” she whispered back with a sly smile, trying to distract me as she laced her fingers behind my neck and tucked herself into my chest.

I felt that unnerving shift, and the world seemed to blur at the edges. I balked for a moment, staring at the stone wall in front of me, my mate curled in my arms. But then she nudged me with her hip.

“It’s safe. Go ahead.”

Swallowed hard, I stepped forward, into that fucking wall.

The world was black as we passed through it. My stomach churned, lurching when I took the second step because, for a split second, it seemed I walked off into an abyss.

But now that I was committed, I hurried.

Diadre had warned me that moving quickly in the open when she was obscuring me could be dangerous—I might flicker like a shadow to the eyes of a watcher. But here in the middle of the wall there were no eyes to see. So I was free to hurry.

Moments later I stepped through the stone into open air in a stable yard, a few horses milling around, ears flickering because they were aware of our presence but they couldn’t see us because my mate kept us obscured.

But now I slowed my pace in case people were around.

The only real light was a lantern in the distant corner, but it was no longer true dark, which meant it cost Diadre more to keep us invisible.

The moment we were beyond the animals and through the gate into the street beyond, the only guard deeply asleep, sitting on a stool and leaning against the gate into the stable.

“Pathetic,” I breathed, shaking my head. A bad guard was worse than none at all. With no guard, someone with bad intent might step carefully, worried about unseen eyes. But a guard asleep out in the open was a flag to the nefarious that this was a good target—

‘Stop judging him. He’s a child.’

I jolted, but looked back over my shoulder to see if she was right… and of course she was. Still.

A few steps later we were in the middle of the street, lined on one side by the city walls and the other with the trades that made their livelihood in its shadow, the stretch of cobbles under our feet slick with animal refuse and only wide enough to allow a single wagon to pass at a time before running up on a narrow footpath at the foot of the shops and taverns that lined the other side.

There were more lights along the street, though no people to see us at that moment.

“Let go of the magik,” I muttered. “I’ll use my wings to keep us obscured.”

My wings didn’t make us invisible, but helped camouflage me in shadows, and cost me nothing. I lowered Diadre to the ground, both of us watching left and right, but there didn’t seem to be anyone out on this little stretch this evening.

I took a deep breath when the edges of my vision cleared and I no longer felt like I was walking through a tunnel.

Further down the street the music and babble of drunks rode the night air, but we were too deep into the shadows to be seen by anyone that far away.

Diadre looked up and down, biting her lip, her eyes scanning the closed business shop fronts, and the dirty street.

“This isn’t our doing,” I said, observing her disapproval of the dirt and grime. “It was already like this. The closer you get to the Great Hall, the more money and… refinement you’ll see.”

She nodded, then answered me in the mindlink.

‘Speak this way unless it’s for a ruse, it will keep us one step ahead of any who might notice our passing.’

I nodded, then took her hand and led her up the street. Because we’d already made a plan.

It was impossible to hide my size, but some Nephilim were present in every major center that we’d conquered. Although I would be regarded with suspicion, I also wouldn’t be challenged. And if Diadre remained close to me they’d likely assume she was either my servant, or my slave.

My hackles rose at the idea of men eyeing her with that in their minds, but I also knew it made her safer.

A common drunk was very unlikely to challenge me for her. Wizard, or no.

So, I kept her hand in mine as we slipped between the buildings, looking for the place we believed was our best source of information: A tavern in the shadow of the Great Hall where the Arbiters—the government officials—drank and met for meals and made their corrupt deals.

That was one thing I’d been able to assure Diadre: She may empathize with the sorcerers for their defeat. But they were a corrupt, self-serving lot, keeping their people enslaved to a caste system that saw magik as a sign of royalty. But in truth was only a system of control.

I had little respect for the Zaryndarians, beyond their intelligence in attempting an alliance with their neighbors to defeat us. They were a nation of weak, pitiful men who used flashy illusions to control others through fear, but had no real spines among them.

I was not a petty man, but defeating these bastards held some delight, purely because I could watch the cowards tuck their tails and whine until I put their noses in the dirt.

We’d only torn their city apart as a lasting reminder that they should not start to believe they hadn’t truly been defeated.

Cowards were always the first to decide that they were brave the moment the enemy was no longer in sight.

As we moved through that city there were fewer dirty trades and seamstresses, and more taverns with music, and modistes—the elite dressmakers and costumers to those with the means to pay them.

The streets were fully lighted here, lanterns hung high on both sides creating cones of light that met and crossed at the middle of the street, leaving deep shadows under eaves and awnings, but few stretches of street without some light.

After an hour of walking through the city, we finally reached the wide promenade that circled the Great Hall at its peak.

Here the destruction was stark—without the dirt and mess of the poor streets, those missing roof tiles and broken windows were far more noticeable. Diadre’s lips thinned, but she didn’t speak about it, thank God.

When we found the establishment we’d been searching for, we looked at each other, but without a word I took her hand, opened the door, and pulled her in behind me—no one here would believe a Neph had manners, after all.

Despite the late hour, the place was busy. Clean and bright, the only sign of weariness was in the tendrils of hair flying loose, or sticking to the sheen of sweat on the cheeks of the beer wenches wending between the men in the aisles.

Table after table lined the aisles, each surrounded by benches and stools and the asses of men in various stages of intoxication.

A band of players jigged and sang from the short stage in the corner opposite the half-moon bar, cheeks red and temples sweaty, but appearing to enjoy the song, smiling at the patrons and the beer wenches alike.

Several heads turned when I stepped out of the shadows around the door and into the much brighter light of the main aisle between tables.

Some of the voices lowered, or stopped speaking, but a Neph in the City was no longer a remarkable event, so while their eyes followed me suspiciously, no one spoke up.

I tugged Diadre through the bar towards a corner away from the door, and furthest from the bar.

An unpopular spot because the beer wenches visited less frequently.

But it would give me a view both of the door, and the staff coming and going from the kitchen beyond the bar.

As well as the players on the other side of the room, and almost every other table.

One of the men at the bar watched us make our way to the table, his eyes dragging up from Diadre’s toes, to her braided hair.

She wasn’t in uniform, but she’d insisted on staying in leathers and a shirt, though most of the women in Zaryndar wore dresses. I didn’t mind. She was stunning. She’d draw eyes whether she wore skirts or not. And this clothing gave her better flexibility and ease of movement in a fight.

Though God help any man who thought he’d put his hands on her, fight or not.

When the man’s eyes made it to her face, I tugged her forward another half step so his eyes followed and found me. I smiled, showing my teeth, and those eyes widened before flipping away and to the ground nervously.

After making certain he’d keep to himself, I caught eyes with the tavern owner behind the bar who sent a beer wench scuttling over to us.

The moment we sat, she was at our sides offering ale or wine. I ordered an ale, and Diadre a wine, then we waited until she was gone.