She said nothing as she put the invitation back—an invitation to her father’s tournament party.
“You had a reason for being here…” Fordham prompted, drawing her away from the letter.
“Right. Dozan,” she croaked. “He… sent a note. A weapons deal is happening at midnight. If we want to find out who they sold that knife to, we have to go now.”
“Tonight?” he hissed.
She nodded.
“But tomorrow is the tournament.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to go without me if I don’t go, aren’t you?”
She bit her lip and shrugged. “Probably.”
He finished tucking away all the bleeding pages and hid the contents in a drawer before straightening to his considerable height. He snatched a cloak off a hook and then tipped his head at her. “Then, let’s go.”
* * *
They were only a half-mile from the address Dozan had given her when the skies opened up. Dark, heavy clouds had been lingering for two days straight. She had hoped they would hold off for the tournament tomorrow. But no luck. None at all. Rain fell in a deluge, soaking through their clothes and chilling the night air.
“This is madness,” Kerrigan grumbled.
“You’re the one who wanted to come out here.”
“Then why are you out here with me?”
He said nothing, and with the rain, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Not that he was particularly expressive in the first place. Maybe it was Audria’s warning, or the visions and talk with Gelryn, or Clover’s questions, but she couldn’t let it go.
She yanked Fordham to a stop under an alcove. “Why are you helping me?”
“Do we have to do this right now?”
“The first time, you said it would make us even. But now? There’s no reason for you to help me anymore.”
He just stared at her, his dark eyes intent and irritated. “Why must there be a motivation?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense,” she yelled over the pounding rain. “Look, I’m glad for your help. I even appreciate the training… despite cursing you in my head.”
“Not just in your head.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, I hate running. But I just don’t get it, Fordham. I don’t understand why you’re helping me.”
“You don’t trust me,” he said simply.
She gulped. No, she didn’t. With everything going on, trusting him felt supremely dangerous and supremely stupid.
“Should I?”
He just nodded, his jaw set. She could almost feel him retreat away from her. “That’s good. It’s safer if you don’t trust me.”
“It still doesn’t explain…”
“There’s someone out there killing humans, half-Fae, and sympathizers. I want to meet them and congratulate them,” he hissed, spreading his arms wide. “Is that what you want to hear? What you expect from me?”
His voice was laced with venom, and it took everything in her not to step back.
“I didn’t say that,” she whispered. The wind caught her voice and whipped it away.
“You didn’t have to,” he accused. “You are the one who has stuck your nose into my business since day one. I did not seek you out. Perhaps it is you who has ulterior motives.”
She cringed. Her motives were not innocent, but she couldn’t tell him about the visions.
“How about this? We finish this mission, and you never have to see me again.” Then, he barreled back out into the rampaging storm.
Kerrigan cursed and dashed after him. His strides were long and measured. She had to jog to keep up with him. She’d never realized how much he slowed his prowl to accommodate her.
“That’s not what I want,” she gasped, reaching out and gripping his elbow.
“Unhand me, halfling,” he said, lethally cold.
She yelped and released him. “I’m sorry, Fordham,” she blurted. “I’m sorry, okay? What everyone else has been saying got in my head. I’m not used to anyone helping me for no reason. Everyone has an angle. Everyone wants something. This… I didn’t expect this.”
Slowly, the anger that had unfurled from him was washed away by the storm. “I didn’t expect this either.”
They stared at each and something sparked that hadn’t been there before. She’d always found him attractive. She’d just never allowed herself to go past that. She hadn’t wanted to think beyond that. He was dangerous and deadly and yet…he was protecting her. And he’d gotten mad at her accusations. Her heart thudded in time with the pounding rain and felt the tension grow taut between them.
Finally he nodded. She released her breath, and they continued forward in silence.
The address was an old flattop building that might have once housed food stores. The brick facade was crumbling, half of the windows were broken and boarded up, and the front doorway had scorch marks on it. The entire thing looked like one stiff breeze would bring it tumbling down. It was either the perfect place for an illicit weapons deal or a death sentence.
They scouted the surrounding area and found four of Rahllins’ lackeys watching the building. One in front of a ladder that led to the roof. Fordham pointed upward, and she bit her lip but acquiesced. As quick as lightning, Fordham stepped forward, choking the air out of the man’s lungs to keep him silent and then putting his fist to the man’s temple. He collapsed like a sack of potatoes.
She helped him haul the man deep into the shadows before scaling the rain-slicked, rickety ladder. Fordham went first, and she trailed behind, none too pleased with the creak of the wood. The roof was paper-thin with loose boards littering the top and a giant hole near the entrance, where the fire had burned through. It was in even worse shape than she had anticipated.
Without a word, Fordham gestured to the hole, and they crawled forward on their bellies to the edge. She took a small breath and then leaned over the edge to peer down into the dimly lit room below.
A half-dozen men stood on one side behind a woman with raven hair and alabaster skin. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Clare Rahllins. Any minute, she might transform into a raven
