Anwen
With Nessa's list in hand and all three of us dressed in plain, heavy clothes, Baz, Castor, and I sneak down into the city proper, through my favorite secret passage so even the guards don't know we're gone. My whole body hums with adrenaline. I couldn't-can't kill Floyd. Not yet. But this fucking assassin, Dorian? He's already a bloody smear on the street in my mind.
Castor tips his head to the sky as we emerge into the market, sniffing. I grab the back of his skull and yank him back down. He tears out of my grasp with a glare.
"You remember walking through this place the second time you arrived?" I hiss.
He purses his lips, obviously playing back the stares and whispers. "They weren't talking about me."
I snort. "You don't understand court gossip. You're as recognizable as any of us now."
He grips the hilt of his sword. "That does not give you permission to touch me."
Baz sighs. "We've got a different guy to murder, remember?"
I roll my eyes. 'It's not like I'm starting it.'
'You sound like a six-year-old,' he replies. 'Show me the list.'
I pass the piece of paper to Baz as freezing rain starts spitting down on us. Castor tries to hide his shiver, but he's got enough of Estrella's habits that I see it anyway. Even for someone who grew up here, this sucks shit.
"This one." Baz taps one name on the list. The Iron Squid. "This is the place that recognized Birsha's description. Ten to one, he's there."
"It's a start." I adjust my hood to keep the rain off my face and lead the way toward the dive.
After a short walk and an honestly pretty cheap bribe, we stand in front of the innkeeper as she slurs her way through a description of the man staying under the name "Meadows."
"Stinks o'rogue." She gestures broadly, meaninglessly. "Hair's red as embers. Big. Stank o'trouble, too. Tweren't for t'other one, I wouldn't 've lettim stay."
A growl builds in my throat. "This other one. Did he have kind of a ferrety look?"
She slams her hand on the bar. "That's it! Couldn' put me finger on it for the life."
I thank her for her time, slide one more silver coin across the bar, and head back outside.
"What are you doing?" Castor demands as soon as we step into the rain. "We should go back, get his room number!"
"And lose our numbers advantage in a cramped space?" I shake my head. "We'll wait. Out here's where we want him."
Castor slumps against a wall, sulking. I shoot Baz a look, which he ignores. It's hard not to forget the kid's younger than either of us when he behaves like this.
The rain doesn't let up or get worse. It's just a constant, plinking nightmare that'll stay in my dreams until the day I die. Minutes fade into hours, and Castor's plan starts sounding a hell of a lot better. A man steps out of the tavern, and I glance up hopelessly. He's only the millionth to do that.
Just before he pulls his hood up, I catch sight of his bright red hair.
"Got him," I hiss.
Castor leaps to his feet and draws his sword.
"Fucking relax!" I grab his arm.
He turns to me, eyes blazing. "That man has been paid to take my life. I will stall no longer!"
Fuck, his way is tempting. But I know it's the Goddess-damned easy way. And Birsha being murdered right under my nose when he obviously still had information still stings.
"We're going to follow him, shithead," I growl. "See where he's going, learn his plan, then fucking kill him."
"Give me one reason why I should listen to the likes of you," he snarls in return.
Baz snaps his fingers between both of our faces, and I realize how close to Castor I've gotten. "How about, shut the fuck up; he's leaving?"
I take a step back. Just like Baz said, Dorian's dark cloak has almost disappeared in the crowd. Castor straightens and sheaths his sword.
"Someday," he mutters as we peel off from our waiting place in unison.
I do Estrella the honor of ignoring him.
Baz and I have years of practice blending into the city crowds, mostly sneaking down to the Blue Slipper. I slouch, stuff my hands in my pockets, and duck my head like I'm hiding from the rain. Baz bobs and weaves like he's drunk, mumbling absently but not actually knocking into anyone. Castor... well, he walks like a fucking prince sneaking through a city. He hunches forward, visibly balances his steps with his hands, and keeps tapping the hilt of his sword like he's checking that it's still there. I suck in a deep, calming breath and walk in front of him. Birsha was fast and well-informed, but I've met more dangerous people. Dorian Meadows might be-
Floyd's fucking ringer. At the first corner, he does the subtlest check over his shoulder I've ever seen, catches sight of Castor, and takes off running.
"Shit!" I sprint after him, unable to do anything but hope the other two are following.
People scatter out of my way with small shrieks. I skid around the corner. The cobbled streets are slick under my feet-damned rain-but I'm faster than most white wolves, forget other shifters. If Dorian would just leave the city, I could really let loose. And this street leads to one of the gates out of the village.
Like he can read my fucking mind, he hangs a hard right into a narrow alley with a standing market. Vendors in layers of mismatched clothes crowd the tiny space. Speed won't help me here. I could throw back my hood and demand they stop him as their prince, but-
"Allow me." Castor breezes past me into the alleyway.
Where I ducked and wove, he barrels. I wince, thinking how much this is going to piss Estrella off, but then I see it. He's not just plunging through, he's strong enough to actually move shit-tables, people, wares-out of his way instead of slamming into them. I laugh out loud. I guess he and Estrella really did have the same father. Baz catches up, and we tear along the path Castor clears.
We reach Castor quickly. I could've found him by the trail of sweat alone. He's huffing and puffing, obviously not used to doing this much in human form. The three of us will catch Dorian eventually, but I don't think we have the fucking stamina to do it the regular way.
'Split up,' I tell Baz. 'I'll stay with Castor. Flank him. Head for the east wall.'
He nods and peels off as soon as we reach the end of the alleyway. Castor shoots me a look.
"Trust me." I smirk.
He scowls, but he has no choice. Just like Estrella, I have to convince him to accept what's good for him.
And I have to stop fucking thinking when I should be running.
Dorian is fast, but he doesn't have shit on me, even with his unerring sense of the crappiest alleys in the city. And that perception works against him when he spots Baz, always to his west, always right before a turn we need him to take. Still, even my lungs are burning by the time Dorian whips around the final turn and realizes he's at a dead end.
A lesser man would pause, curse, think over his options. Dorian just tears a short sword from a holster on his back, whirls, and throws himself at me. I roll to the side, and he meets Castor instead. Despite his heavy breathing, Castor manages to get half his sword out of its scabbard before Dorian strikes, just enough to block the blow. The rogue grunts. I pull my two daggers and leap to my feet, diving at his back. Dorian parries my blade, then shoulders me out of the way and backs up.
'Soon,' Baz calls. 'Had to take the roofs.'
'Aim for the end of the alley.'
Two on one, for now. Castor and I advance.
Dorian fights like liquid, his short sword somehow holding up against both Castor's heavier weapon and my daggers. I roll, dodge, try to get inside his guard. He dances back and forward, anticipating my moves before I make them. Castor swings crushing blows, takes a few on his leather armor, and still barely manages to nick Dorian. The message Floyd's sending is clear: Birsha couldn't get the job done. I'm not missing again. After the run, I'm nowhere near as fast as I should be. Castor's moving like molasses, and his armor is nearly shredded. Dammit, we need Baz.
I dip right, my daggers flashing. Instead of dodging, Dorian presses forward. I leap back just in time for the tip of his blade to barely graze my tunic. A familiar smell catches my nose. What the fuck is that?
'Incoming!' Baz yells.
Time to push my luck. I toss my daggers aside and lunge forward to shove Dorian full in the chest. His mouth opens in real surprise, and he starts to tumble, arms wheeling. Castor sweeps his ankles just as Baz lands at the end of the alleyway. Dorian collides with the soaking ground hard, wet garbage smearing on his cloak, his sword clattering out of his hand. Without needing to say anything, the three of us advance as one. I smile hungrily.
Dorian doesn't scramble. Scars cover his skin, like most rogues, making his expression almost impossible to read, but his gaze goes to the sky. The hair on the back of my neck prickles.
'Baz, how did you-'
The assassin leaps to his feet, twists, and slashes a second sword I didn't even fucking see across Baz's chest. My friend topples with a yelp, and Dorian sprints over his body to the fucking trellis at the end of the alley, the one Baz climbed down to get here. I snarl and coil my muscles to launch into another chase.
"Fuck," Baz says in a voice I've never heard before.
The stink of blood, thick and coppery, reaches me through the rain. Too much of it.
Time slows. My mind tears in two different directions. Catching-hell, killing-Dorian is what we came here to do. It's what I promised Estrella, promised everyone. It's the smart move. The political move. I can find another Beta.
But I can never find another Baz.
I whip around to Castor, trying to put every ounce of confidence and fury pounding in my veins into my voice. "Help me help him. I will find another way to get Dorian. Under pain of a thousand desert nights."
Estrella's younger brother clenches his jaw, stares over my shoulder at Dorian. I don't touch him this time. I don't think I need to.
He snarls, then sheaths his sword. "It's what Father would've done."
We run to Baz, lying in a puddle of his own blood. My stomach drops. My heart gives up the ghost. He's going to die.
Unless we can get him to Estrella fast enough.