Page 36 of Sharpen Your Claws

Evera caught up. “You have a sour face.”

“Do you care if I have a sour face?”

“That depends on how sour you plan to act with me.”

“Not at all. It’s not your fault.” It wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own misgivings. She told herself not to care, to shrug it off because they had far more pressing matters. Unfortunately, emotions rarely listened or gave a damn about one’s desires.

“Then whose fault is it?” asked Evera.

“I do not want you to take offense to this,” more so because she didn’t want Evera to be angered, “but it isn’t your business nor do I think it would be helpful for either of us if I told you.”

“It wouldn’t be unhelpful,” she countered.

“I am not so certain. Don’t fae love to learn of trouble?”

“Of course, but I’m not here to start trouble, save with the shadowed disciples. I need to keep an eye on Nicholas, otherwise my mother will be relentless.”

“Do you fear her?” Charmaine asked, more to distract herself than anything else. Evera made conversation easier than expected and she needed to stop remembering Josef and how much she envied the woman across from him.

“No,” Evera answered, surprising her. She thought all fae feared their parents, as Nicholas feared his father. “But she annoys me, and she’s sneaky, even by fae standards. She would find another way to point me in the direction she so desires.”

“Why do you associate with her at all?”

“I want our house when the old hag finally dies.”

Charmaine burst out laughing. She didn’t expect to, especially in a dour mood, then threw a hand over her mouth to silence the sound. “I—that is unexpected.”

“Whatdidyou expect?” asked Evera.

“That you wanted her power?”

“I’m strong enough as is, but our home, Sorrows Well, is a finicky thing. It won’t accept me as its master if I were to abandon it. I don’t want to, either. I grew up there. It is beautiful and comforting.” Evera smirked when she caught Charmaine watching her. “Did you not expect that answer, either?”

“No, I didn’t think fae appreciated home in the way mortals do.”

“We are mysterious creatures,” she said teasingly.

Charmaine nodded and felt oddly better already. “That you are.”

14

William

Shadowshuggedthestreetsof Alogan. They swerved in and out of sight, strengthening in the alleys where animals scrounged for scraps. The chattering of claws on stone, the flickering of lanterns, and the songs drifting from open pub doorways made William’s teeth grind. They had been in the open all day and into night, inspecting the outer banks for beasts meant to be dead. Years ago, Alogan’s streets put life in his lungs, but now he wanted to conceal himself in a room safe from prying eyes.

Nicholas touched his hand. He crossed his arms to shield himself in more ways than one. A protection from Nicholas and his warped mind that worsened after the sun set. Nicholas hadn’t witnessed one of his episodes. If it were up to him, he would ensure Nicholas never would.

As promised, Nicholas worked throughout the day. More like walked, because neither of them heard or saw anything. He guided Nicholas to the locations his patients may have gone missing, but they observed nothing or anyone suspicious. Seeming to consider the work done, Nicholas disregarded personal space as if it never existed. His eyes reflected William, a mirror dedicated to him entirely. That attention worsened his paranoia about being out in the open for so long. A fae could track disciples easier than he ever could. Nicholas was his best defense, but that defense had far too much on his mind to be reliable.

William didn’t have a pistol on him. He had two knives, one tucked into his right boot and the other under his cloak at his back. They were better than nothing, but not the best defense against shadowed disciples. Arguably, pistols weren’t of much use either.

“Your hair is longer,” Nicholas spoke a little breathlessly, like he resented time for daring to escape them.

William tugged at a strand of his hair. “Is that a problem?”

“I like it.”

He bit back a smile. “You look relatively the same.”

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