A week. I had been stuck here in the Fae Safehouse for a week. Tarik was off helping the rebels with who knew what, while I sat here smoking and twiddling my thumbs. Even when I had poked at them to give me tasks to do, they had brushed me off. Encouraged me to stay hidden. Safe. I couldn’t take the boredom anymore. There had to be something I could do. Tarik’s face was plastered all over the city, not mine, and I was shoved into a box?
I inhaled a sharp breath and reined in my anger. His work with the rebellion wasn’t what frustrated me, not really, and I knew that. He had avoided me all week too. Wouldn’t so much as glance in my direction most of the time, and when he did? Not a word. He hadn’t spoken to me in days. I was stuck on a wheel, running and running, going nowhere.
My fist slammed into the wall and I hissed at the sting of pain. If no one would give me any direction, I would make my own. Sitting around certainly wasn't helping me take my mind off the situation. Off him.
In a recent meeting, Rebel Leader mentioned that Mordecai had loosened Alec’s reins. He was terrorizing Fae for no reason, many now too scared to do anything beyond working and hurrying home. Their supplies, food and otherwise, always ran low. I couldn’t imagine the limited schedules had helped that situation.
Sure, Alec hated the Fae, probably more so now, but I couldn’t help wondering if he was trying to distract us from worse plans. Mordecai wasn’t the type to simply stop when he failed. Maybe I could find out what he was up to, waylay the dragons from finding the Fae. At the very least, I had to get out of here, even for an hour or two. I couldn’t stand feeling so damned useless.
Not like anyone would notice if I was gone.
I was being bitter and petty and obnoxious.
With a huff, I glanced down. The Fae had given me clothing—of course—as soon as we had stepped through the door. But they were bulky and long, clothing tailored for much taller bodies. The fabric hung off my limbs. I’m wearing a tent. I picked through the kitchen drawers, but there didn’t seem to be anything I could use to modify the clothing. Hands it is.
I tore off the majority of the thin linen shirt. Sleeves, stomach, collar—the parts that would make rapid-shifting nearly impossible if I was caught and needed to escape. I left a bit, enough that Tarik could restrain his clothing frenzy.
Ugh. Tarik.
I need to get out of here.
No familiar faces were around as I slipped out the door. I shouldn’t be surprised; they were busy, even if I didn’t know exactly with what. But today . . . today, I would help.
While they were off gallivanting around, I was going to check on the Fae that bordered the shifter districts. I couldn’t get too close to The Pit—Alec apparently kept near-constant watch on the building these days, circling at random intervals. I wasn’t sure why. Neither Tarik nor I had any friends who frequented that cesspit.
Stop thinking about him.
The path I took into the city might be familiar but I couldn’t remember a time when I felt more out of place—the moon in the daytime sky, exactly where I belonged but still not quite right. Strange, the change of tide, considering I had once strode about without regard to where I fit. I treated the city like I owned the place—and part of me wondered if I still could have, if I had killed Mordecai. I should have. Everything would be easier, and I could deal with the guilt of murdering an unarmed, pleading man later. On my own.
I thought I was so strong. Virtually untouchable, in the ways that mattered.
But look at me now.
My fate, and the Fae’s, clenched in the fist of a man I could have simply ended. In either case, decisions had been made. Too late to turn back now. I shook my head, lengthening my hair into my lion’s mane. Thick and white. The bright Fae clothing should keep people from recognizing me immediately, even with my visible tattoos, but if I could lower the odds I certainly would.
Loading up on supplies took all of five minutes, and I paid with a wad of cash I had grabbed before leaving my penthouse. Virtually untraceable. The routine was like clockwork—the same aisles, the same supplies I had bought so many times before. Doing supply drops for the Fae had always made me feel like I was taking a step in the right direction. They were worth the risk.
But even with that certainty in my mind, when the cashier did a double take my heart burst into motion, pounding against my ribs. She finished bagging the groceries, though, and didn’t look up again. My fists slowly unclenched.
After I was finally concealed in the shadows of the alley, I shook my hair back out. If only my clothing didn’t scream “fugitive.” A glance at the bags on my arms, though, and my stomach flooded with warmth that pushed aside my fear and relaxed the tension that lingered in my shoulders.
The matter of navigating back through the city and dividing up the supplies took maybe an hour. My confidence was up, my heart full, when I heard the loud whoosh of dragon wings behind me.
Damnit.
I ducked into an alley, tucking myself into the shadows. Blood pulsed in my ears. Alec never patrolled this far into Fae territory. While I knew I could face him hand-to-hand, a wave of shame still rolled over me from our last encounter. I had failed, miserably, and cowering in the shadows was my penitence.
When the wings passed over, I waited several long seconds before I crept to the next building. Alec circled around again. Damnit, how many times a day did he do
