Ha. I choke on actual laughter. That behemoth would be me. I thought I’d recognized him. My lip curls at the memory of Heath stopping me at a checkpoint and how my fist landed on his cheek after he’d shoved me into a window, shattering the glass. A faint, kidney-shaped bruise on Heath’s face confirms the memory. I still find the occasional shard of glass in the folds of my coat.
“Anyway, if you fight, one of you is likely to go over the edge,” says Moss.
Heath sips from the bottle and trips, his arms windmilling backward, demonstrating Moss’s point.
The bottle flies from his hand, and I race for it, afraid if it smashes, it’ll attract more attention. With one arm extended, I grab it while catching myself on the metal pole supporting a torch. The light dances from the sudden movement. I’m shocked another set of patrol hasn’t come by or Heath and Moss haven’t noticed Kiki isn’t loitering in the shadows. I thank the Hallowtide revelry and take another long sip and pass it back to them. The ground tilts away from me for a split second. I bark a loud laugh at the unlikelihood of where I am, but then check myself, having to keep my wits long enough to make it out of here.
In the silence, Heath asks, “Where’s your friend?” Suspicion stripes his voice.
My mind bobs from the cider. I might like to be more than friends with her. I’d like her to name me sweetly.
Kiki’s voice carries from the torch next to the entry Nadya indicated we use. “I’m right here.” She quickly approaches, her coat more padded than I recall. “I’m not interested in falling off the wall. Just over here enjoying the views.”
Heath steps closer to her and asks, “What was your message again?”
She clears her throat. “Tink wants to meet Henry under the pier.”
“Ooh, under the pier,” he singsongs suggestively. “How about we don’t tell Henry and meet Tink ourselves.”
This wild improvisation is moments from falling apart.
Kiki swallows. “She’s not that kind of girl.”
I shake my head. “No, an ogre, really. Warts, missing teeth. Have you smelled her breath?” I ask Kiki, keeping up the charade.
She picks up my meaning, waving her hand in front of her face, but more than likely wafting away Heath’s breath. “It’s awful. I’ve suggested she brush, but she said Henry doesn’t mind.”
Their laughter echoes. “That explains it. In this case, Henry is the beauty.”
“And that’s saying something because I’d rather not look at him even if I was blind in one eye and couldn’t see out of the other,” Moss says.
“Shall we escort you out or would you rather leave the way you came?” Heath asks with dark eyes.
Kiki jumps over the wall and calls, “I wouldn’t give Henry a hard time if I were you. I have a feeling he’s going to get the last laugh.” Her own laughter follows her over the edge.
I lift my arm in farewell before dropping over the wall. My other hand scrambles when I miscalculate the location for my feet. I slide down, grasping for a hold.
A small rope flies by as I pass the opening to the tunnel and drop perilously toward the rushing water. I grab the very end of it before plugging my oversized feet into a small crevasse to one side of the opening where Kiki waits, holding the thin, knotted rope that doesn’t look like it could carry the weight of a raven. Then again, they have wings. Maybe Kiki does too.
“It’s stronger than it looks,” she answers. Her glittered eyes glint in the low torchlight.
So is she.
She holds the rope stable, beckoning me up.
I grip it, thankful for the four knots as I climb, hand over hand. When I pull myself into the tunnel, I crash against her and we both fall to the ground.
I don’t mind being this close to her, not at all, except for the stench rising from the wastewater as the rising tide washes over the entrance.
Her eyes are wide and her cheeks pink.
I’m frozen, unable to move, captivated by her beauty, her eyes, her lips.
She groans. “You’re crushing me.”
“Oh, sorry,” I apologize, getting to my feet and offering her a hand.
Kiki splashes ahead of me through the tunnel, not looking back.
We race along the lower wall as laughter and festivities sound from above. I don’t trust the alarms not to blare, alerting a company of guards to chase us down, but the cider dulls the concern, leaving me bold enough to laugh at breaking into Bearsden—one of the few schemes I’d yet to pull in Raven’s Landing.
The Hallowtide festivities continue in the harbor and the bonfire roars against the waves carrying the candles out to sea. Temptation pulls me toward the firelight until Kiki stops me at a crossroads. My head swims with cider and the ground rises and falls in the near darkness. The laughter, flames, and the hundreds of candles floating on the water spin and distort.
“It’s beautiful,” she says. The firelight doesn’t quite reach us, but she glows as the moon illuminates the smooth curves of her features.
“Enchanting,” I say, tilting my head toward her.
“Are you okay?” Kiki asks, looking up and resting her hand on my arm.
I stagger backward. “Definitely maybe.”
Sparks from the bonfire crackle skyward, but disappear before they reach the stars, taking the moment with them.
The Roost is uncommonly quiet and relatively dark with everyone at the Hallowtide celebration as we turn up the hill in our own bubble of silence.
Back at the Roost, I warm water and Kiki bathes behind a screen in the corner, washing away the filth from the tunnel. Afterward, I do the same and then spread my clothes out to dry. We huddle under blankets.
“Henry?”
