Page 72 of Song of the Heart Scale
My stomach flipped. I stepped closer. “What’s it say?”
She broke the seal and quickly read it. “He wants to meet at The Gilded Serpent. Says he has something for you.”
“Then we better not keep him waiting,” I said. “Prepare the carriage.”
The Southern Districtwas quieter during the day. Still colorful, still lined with temptation and shadowy figures, but subdued. The Gilded Serpent stood like a painted gem in a crown of dust, all polished marble columns and brass lanterns. Classy. Regal, even. A far cry from the sleaze dens that surrounded it.
We pulled up in a discreet carriage and I was halfway out the door before it fully stopped. Garrick was pacing near the entrance, a bundle of nerves wrapped in patchwork robes. His one good eye tracked me like a hawk.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” I said by way of greeting.
“Good to see you too, my lady,” he replied with a dry laugh. “Let’s go inside. It’s not safe to talk out here.”
We entered through the polished doors. The brothel was empty, save for a bored-looking attendant who gave us a lazy wave before disappearing into the back. We’d taken to meeting at the pleasure house since the tavern wasn’t a very safe place to talk. According to Garrick, we’d have more privacy here. I still had my doubts, but I trusted him.
Garrick led us to a small corner table, pulled out a rolled-up parchment, and handed it to me with shaking fingers. “The information you wanted. Took some digging—and a few threats I may or may not regret—but I got it.”
I didn’t unroll it. I didn’t need to. We already knew Thorne killed the emperor. I felt like I put Garrick in danger for nothing. But still, he might have dug up some information that could be useful.
I looked up, noting his furrowed brow and his fingers twitching against the wood grain of the table. “You okay? You look like you're waiting for a dragon to drop from the sky.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” he said. “It’s Elaria. It’s everyone.”
I tilted my head. “Talk to me.”
He leaned forward, pitching his voice low. “Thorne’s been on a tour all day, from Northern District to Southern District. Parading like some gilded Immortal.”
“I saw,” I said bitterly. “We had a front-row seat this morning.”
“Yeah, well, it’s worse now,” he said. “More people are dying.”
My stomach flipped. “What?”
“Executions. Quiet ones. Loud ones. Doesn't matter. He’s making examples of anyone who doesn’t bend the knee fast enough. Or anyone who dares to mention the enthronement.”
I stared at him. “You’re still laying low, aren’t you?”
“I have to!” he snapped. “You think I want to? They still call meGarrick the Betrayer, remember? I survived the late emperor once. I won’t be lucky again.”
I reached across the table and gripped his hand. “You’re not alone. We’re going to stop him. We just need time.”
He laughed hollowly. “Time? That’s one thing we’re running out of.”
I looked at the rolled parchment in my hand. Cold certainty settled in my bones.
If we didn’t act soon, there wouldn’t be a realm left to save.
And no storm to carry me home.
“You’re not wrong about that…” I murmured. “Damien saw the seer and he said some… things.”
“So what did Malachar say?” Garrick’s one good eye narrowed with a nervous tick, the candlelight reflecting off his patchwork robes like firelight on rippling water.
I glanced around the quiet interior of The Gilded Serpent. Daylight streamed through high stained-glass windows, filtering in gentle hues of gold and crimson, bouncing off velvet walls and glinting off polished brass. For a brothel, the place felt oddly reverent.
Leaning in, I lowered my voice. “He said Thorne's rise would bring famine to Elaria. That with him on the throne, the skies would dry up, the rains would cease, and the land would wither. No crops. No trade. No portal.”
Garrick's expression darkened. “Damnation.”
