Page 34 of Swift Wings Shadowed Heart
Whirling on my heel, I head back.
But what if he’s there with someone else?
My steps falter. I’ve never heard mention of Vaylen Stormsong having a girlfriend, but what if he does? What if he just keeps his relationship private? I ponder. Would a man known for his integrity flirt with another woman in a dimly lit balcony if he had a girlfriend? Unlikely, though stranger things have happened.
Wyrm’s rot!I need more information, and at the very least, this is a chance to get it. Resuming my steps, I expertly gather my hair and put it up in a bun. It won’t be as pristine as it should be, but it’ll help me get through the hotel door rather than be kicked to the curb. Indeed, when I bounce up the steps and the attendant takes me in with a quick appraising look, he greets me and obsequiously opens the door.
I enter, wearing a self-important air and realizing what a powerful thing the uniform I wear is. I wonder how many more doors it will open for me.
The vestibule exudes an opulent air. High, vaulted ceilings, ribbed with black marble, cast distorted shadows from the gas sconces that line the walls. A massive, obsidian-framed mirror, its surface slightly clouded with age, reflects the intricate, dragon-scale patterned floor. A chandelier shaped like a skeletal dragon hangs above, its dim light illuminating an ample reception desk.
As I take a seat in one of the luxurious armchairs near the front door, I tell myself there’s no reason to feel self-conscious. No one is looking at me. Everyone assumes I fit right in. Years of work at the Academy, along with Heratrix’s blessing, are as good as money in Embernia. By the grace of a dragon, I have climbed to the upper echelons of our society, even if I’m still as poor and destitute as my father’s heart.
Bless you, Zephyros!
I spot the day’s news sheet on a side table and quickly pick it up. Using it to hide behind it, I pretend to read, scanning my surroundings instead. Five minutes pass.
This is stupid.For all I know, the man is in bed already. What do I hope to?—
Vaylen appears, walks up to the counter, and speaks to the attendant. The man nods, then takes what looks like an envelope from Vaylen. I make a split-second decision. Setting the news sheet down, I stand and start walking toward the reception desk. As I go, I busy myself with the contents of my pockets, mentally counting my coin again.
When Vaylen turns, I take a few more steps before looking up. As our gazes lock, I act surprised, though I keep the reaction subtle.
“High Prime Stormsong,” I say. “I can’t seem to get away from you tonight.”
His eyes tighten. He appears suspicious. I mimic his expression. Two can play this game. He bristles enough for me to notice. Clearly, he dislikes the suggestion that his presence here is anything but a coincidence. Putting him on the defensive has had the intended effect. He’d rather protect his integrity than accuse me of stalking him.
“Excuse me,” I say, walking around him and approaching the attendant.
I take a risk by snubbing him. He may very well walk away, but it’s a tried method. Males are built to chase females, especially those they like, and he likes me. At least he did last night. This question stands now: Can he make rational thought prevail over basic instincts on a night like tonight?
“I’d like to rent a single room,” I tell the attendant, holding all my coins in my hand. The man is skeletal, with a hooked nose and a funny little mustache. He wears a sharp black suit with a starched white shirt.
“Of course,” the attendant says, scanning me. His expression grows pinched as if something suddenly stinks. He takes in my hair, which I suspect is less than perfect. “That will be five gold coins.”
I nearly choke. How can they charge that much for a single room? It’s robbery.
Wyrm’s rot!What now? This issoembarrassing.
“I… I just remembered that I?—”
“Sir,” Vaylen says behind me. “Have you not noticed her uniform?”
The attendant’s pinched expression disappears and is quickly replaced by a solicitous one. “Oh, my apologies, High Prime Stormsong. I… I was distracted.”
With nervous hands, he digs inside a drawer.
On the attendant’s side of the counter, I notice the envelope Vaylen gave him. The addressee readsChief Inspector Cragmere. My heart leaps. I hold my breath, trying not to panic. It takes all I have because I can only fathom one reason for the letter: Cindergrasp’s murder.
The attendant produces a key attached to a thin piece of wood with the number E138 carved on it. He places it on the counter and slides it in my direction. I take it, trying to appear undisturbed, though I feel as if there’s an arrow above my head, pointing straight at the murderess.
“I’m so very sorry, Skyrider,” the attendant says. “I will be more careful next time.” He nods once slowly before looking up again.
I push all thoughts of Cindergrasp aside and take the key. “It’s no problem.” I’m thoroughly confused, but I will not balk at what appears to be a free room.
“Your room is to the left, on the east wing.”
“Thank you.”
