Page 160 of Witchlight
“I thought you’d want to spend your evening with a certain prince, Safi.”
Safi barked a laugh. “He’s a minister now, actually. What a boring title, isn’t it?”
“So does that mean you’renotspending your evening with him?”
Safi waved at the night’s balmy air. “There’s plenty of time for that later, Iz. Our first destination will be Poznin—which, before you make a snide comment—”
“I would never.”
“—does make sense. I mean, if there’s anywhere that might have imbalanced magic that needs tending, it’s that city.”
“Hmmm.” Iseult sipped her coffee. “And how long will we be staying there?”
“As long as we need.”
“And what if he doesn’t want you to leave again?”
“Well,that’sinevitable.” Safi flashed her most cavalier grin. “They never do, you know.”
“They?” Iseult pretended to inspect Safi. “Whattheydo you mean? Have you got lovers hiding in those secret pockets on your gown?”
“Oh-ho, you’re one to tease, Iz, given that you’ve got a littlegodlingwho won’t let you out of his sight for more than five minutes.”
Iseult’s lips pursed. “It’s been five days, thank you.”
“Right. Because you think I didn’t notice you sneaking off two nights ago?”
Red fanned onto Iseult’s cheeks—a shadow in this grayscale evening.True,Safi’s magic purred, both to the reactionandto her comment about Iseult’s not-so-subtle escapade.
Iseult finished her coffee with a loud gulp, then cleared her throat pointedly. And just as pointedly changed the subject. “Since you’re here and we’ve a-agreed we won’t sleep tonight, then how about a game of taro? There’s a match over by the Southern Wharf. B-big money thrown around there.”
Safi’s eyebrows launched high. Then promptly swooped down again as she became the one to inspect her Threadsister from head to toe. “Heard fromwhom? You’ve been hiding since you got into the city, tucked up in this attic with letters and books and charts.”
Iseult bobbed a shoulder, herfakenonchalance as obvious to Safi’s magic as it was to Safi’s eyes. “Oh, just a certain Hell-Bard told me. Two of them, actually, who came by three hours ago.”
Safi gasped. “They’rehere?”
Iseult stopped feigning boredom. Her face split with an arrestingly truthful grin—something she was doing more and more often in recent weeks. And that Safi would never tire of seeing. “And a Threadwitch is with them. So what do you say?”
“Yes!” Safi scrabbled to her feet. “Let me change, and we can go. Actually, no. I’m too impatient for that.”
Iseult snorted. “Was that self-awareness I just heard, Safi?”
“Shut up.” Safi grabbed her Threadsister’s gloved hands. “Get up and help me take this dress off.”
“Are you fully clothed underneath?”
“Of course I am.” Safi rolled her eyes.
Iseult whistled. “Self-awarenessandplanning ahead. All in one night. By the Moon Mother, what has b-become of the Safi I used to know?”
Safi grinned, and once her dress was off, she flung it through the open window into Iseult’s old attic bedroom. The night’s air coursed against her gray suit. The scent of salt and sewage and coffee mingled into her nose. She stretched once, feeling her spine crack and her shoulders roll.
“Rooftops?”
“For as long as we can. You lead the way, Light-Bringer.”
“As you wish, Dark-Giver.” Safi pushed into a jog, aiming south toward the beating heart of Veñaza City. And when she reached the edge of the coffee shop roof, she leaped for the next slope of shingles.
