Page 74 of Song of the Shadow Prince
“Who was that witch?” I asked, shifting the conversation to earlier events.
“The headmistress of Arya’s art school.” She shifted on her feet. “Maeve and I found out that Arya’s involved in some shady things, which should surprise no one.” She snorted and shook her head. “Mirabel – the headmistress – has been following us all evening.”
Learning that Arya was involved in something nefarious did not, in fact, surprise me. “What is Arya involved in? Does it involve the vampires?”
“Yes,” she answered truthfully. “Look, you don’t have to worry about any of this or get involved. I’m handling it—”
“Tell me everything,” I interrupted. “Start from the beginning.”
“Damien,” she groaned, but I stopped her.
“Cat,” I said, her name evoking a curl of protectiveness, “I know you don’t have much reason to trust me, but I can help you. In all honesty, you might even be helpingme,” I admitted, surprised by my candor.
She frowned and twisted her plump lips to the side, which seemed to be a habit when she was thinking, and one I wholeheartedly approved. After some thought, she nodded. “Fine.” For the next thirty minutes, we stood in the dark while she told me everything that had happened today and what she’d discovered.
I watched her intently; the way she spoke with her hands, the way she looked me directly in the eyes when she spoke without any sense of fear, and how her voice never wavered. She was confident, fearless, and intelligent. She was everything the real Arya wasn’t. How I hadn’t noticed earlier was beyond me.
When she finished her tale, she blew out a breath and jabbed her hands on her hips, looking at me as if I had the answers to the world’s mysteries. “So, what do you think?”
“I believe we might be working the same case.” I scratched at the scruff of my chin. “I’m investigating the vampires to learnwhat they’re up to in the Underclaw Market. You’ve given me valuable information. Thank you.” I turned to leave.
“Wait. That’s it?” She grabbed my sleeve. “You take but you don’t give? That’s not how quid pro quo works, buddy.”
I peered over my shoulder at her and furrowed my brows, confused by the expression. “Pardon?”
She rolled her eyes, then fixed me with an irritated glare. “Give and take. You can’t just take and not give, Damien. I gave you a shit ton of information, but you didn’t offer me a single thing. What do you know about the vampires?”
I shook my head and touched the hand that clutched my sleeve. It was warm to the touch. I gently pulled it away and forced her to release the fabric, then I dropped it almost immediately as if seared by her skin. “None of my information is imperative to what you’re dealing with,” I said. “Stay at the Ryder residence where it’s safe. I’ll come see you soon.”
Crossing her arms, she scoffed and muttered, “As if. I have things to do and people to see. There’s no way I’m going under house arrest.”
I growled and whirled around to face her. “Cat,” I gritted between my teeth, “don’t test me. Do as I say.”
She narrowed her eyes defiantly. “No.” We stood in a silent stare-off. “Are you going to the Underclaw Market?”
“Why?”
“Take me with you,” she said confidently. “Let me join your investigation. I can help.”
Before the words were out of her mouth, I was already shaking my head. “No, that’s not—”
Stubbornness blazed in her eyes. “I’ll go with or without you.”
She pushed past me and walked down the street. I snorted, knowing very well she didn’t know where she was going. “Ifyou can even find your way to the Underclaw Market,” I said knowingly.
She froze mid-step. “Someone will tell me the way,” she doggedly insisted.
I chuckled. “Perhaps, but you can’t get in withoutthis.” I pulled the token that guaranteed entry to the market from my pocket with a flourish.
She whirled around to face me again and looked at the token in my hand, narrowing her honey brown gaze. “Damnit,” she grumbled. “Come on, Damien. Don’t be an asshole. Let me come with you,” she pouted, sticking out her lower lip.
I rolled my eyes, but I had to admit it wasn’t such a bad idea. Having her near me could guarantee I knew where she was and could protect her. I pocketed the token and walked toward her, seizing her wrist. I fixed her with a no-nonsense stare. “Stick by me and don’t go wandering on your own. Understand?”
She saluted me. “Yes sir!”
I sighed, knowing I would probably regret this later, and dragged her down the street toward the Southern District.
Dimly litstreets wound through the Southern District and spit us out at the entrance of the Underclaw Market, a place as grim as it was secretive. The buildings leaned into each other like tired old men, their facades darkened with grime and the residue of hard urban life. The pungent air reeked of rotting refuse and the sharp tang of iron, possibly from blood spilled in the shadows. Every so often, a gust of wind carried the brine of the distant sea, which mingled with the foul stench of the streets to create a rather unpleasant miasma.
