Dorian folded the map and tucked it away in his pocket. “Any idea what I’m looking for specifically?”
And that was the rub. “No,” Caius said. “We have the where, but not the what. They said there’s some elderly human woman living at the teahouse they were sent to and that she didn’t know a thing, but there has to be more to it than that. Altair’s too smart to waste resources on dead ends. Interrogate her. Find out whatever you can. If Altair has a lead on the firebird, I want to chase it down.”
“You want me to terrorize a fragile old lady?” Dorian asked. “What kind of monster are you?”
Caius punched him on the shoulder. “That’s no way to speak to your prince.”
Dorian bowed deeply, but with a hint of a laugh dancing at the edge of his lips. “Forgive me, my liege.”
Caius knew the gentle teasing was for his benefit, and he appreciated the effort. With tensions rising in his own court, it was nice to be reminded that he still had friends, even if they were in short supply these days. “You flatter me with your sincerity, Captain. Now get going. Round up a few of your best guards and make haste. I want whatever this is in my possession by morning.”
“Then have it by morning you shall,” Dorian said, straightening. With a brisk nod, he turned to leave.
Caius knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could trust Dorian with anything and everything, but some things still needed to be said. “And, Dorian?”
Dorian turned, eyebrow arched.
“Tell no one.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was an easy jaunt from Charing Cross Road to Grand Central, and Rowan was the consummate gentleman the entire way, opening gateways to the in-between and holding Echo’s hand as they crossed them. He was only a few months older than Echo, but there was something about him that made him seem more mature than his years. Confidence was a second skin he wore as comfortably as his own. It hadn’t always been that way, though. Echo had been there to witness his awkward adolescence, when his limbs were gangly and he flopped around like a puppy that didn’t know how to use its oversized paws. Over the past year, he’d blossomed like a beautiful flower—not that she would ever,
ever
say that to him. Unless, of course, she felt like making him cringe.
They made their way to the Nest, passing through the wards in one of Metro-North’s abandoned tunnels. The Nest’s main gateway was located almost directly beneath the busiest part of the station, where commuters gatheredaround the clock at the center of the main concourse. Magic, the Ala had explained to an awestruck seven-year-old Echo, was powerful there. The comings and goings of millions of feet and thousands of trains thinned the veil between this world and the world between, constantly pouring magic into the Nest’s gateway.
“So,” Rowan said, slinging an arm around Echo’s shoulders, “any idea what the Ala wants with you?”
“Maybe.” Echo reached up and twined her fingers with his. Rowan’s half smile blossomed into a full one, and it summoned a matching grin from Echo. “But I can’t tell you.” She mimed zipping her lips shut.
“Oh, come on.” Rowan twirled her around to face him, maneuvering her so that she was walking backward. Gentle hands on her waist guided her so she didn’t miss a single step. The farther they got from the crowd around the main gateway, the more affectionate they could be. Even the Avicen who didn’t mind Echo’s presence among them had a tendency to frown on a relationship between one of their own and a human. The few drops of human blood that coursed through Rowan’s veins were easily overlooked. They didn’t blame him for the sins of his ancestors, but they did blame Echo for leading a nice Avicen boy astray. “What could be so important you can’t tell your”—he glanced around, dropping his voice to a loud stage whisper—“boyfriend?”
There it was. That word. Echo wasn’t sure she’d ever
And that was the rub. “No,” Caius said. “We have the where, but not the what. They said there’s some elderly human woman living at the teahouse they were sent to and that she didn’t know a thing, but there has to be more to it than that. Altair’s too smart to waste resources on dead ends. Interrogate her. Find out whatever you can. If Altair has a lead on the firebird, I want to chase it down.”
“You want me to terrorize a fragile old lady?” Dorian asked. “What kind of monster are you?”
Caius punched him on the shoulder. “That’s no way to speak to your prince.”
Dorian bowed deeply, but with a hint of a laugh dancing at the edge of his lips. “Forgive me, my liege.”
Caius knew the gentle teasing was for his benefit, and he appreciated the effort. With tensions rising in his own court, it was nice to be reminded that he still had friends, even if they were in short supply these days. “You flatter me with your sincerity, Captain. Now get going. Round up a few of your best guards and make haste. I want whatever this is in my possession by morning.”
“Then have it by morning you shall,” Dorian said, straightening. With a brisk nod, he turned to leave.
Caius knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could trust Dorian with anything and everything, but some things still needed to be said. “And, Dorian?”
Dorian turned, eyebrow arched.
“Tell no one.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was an easy jaunt from Charing Cross Road to Grand Central, and Rowan was the consummate gentleman the entire way, opening gateways to the in-between and holding Echo’s hand as they crossed them. He was only a few months older than Echo, but there was something about him that made him seem more mature than his years. Confidence was a second skin he wore as comfortably as his own. It hadn’t always been that way, though. Echo had been there to witness his awkward adolescence, when his limbs were gangly and he flopped around like a puppy that didn’t know how to use its oversized paws. Over the past year, he’d blossomed like a beautiful flower—not that she would ever,
ever
say that to him. Unless, of course, she felt like making him cringe.
They made their way to the Nest, passing through the wards in one of Metro-North’s abandoned tunnels. The Nest’s main gateway was located almost directly beneath the busiest part of the station, where commuters gatheredaround the clock at the center of the main concourse. Magic, the Ala had explained to an awestruck seven-year-old Echo, was powerful there. The comings and goings of millions of feet and thousands of trains thinned the veil between this world and the world between, constantly pouring magic into the Nest’s gateway.
“So,” Rowan said, slinging an arm around Echo’s shoulders, “any idea what the Ala wants with you?”
“Maybe.” Echo reached up and twined her fingers with his. Rowan’s half smile blossomed into a full one, and it summoned a matching grin from Echo. “But I can’t tell you.” She mimed zipping her lips shut.
“Oh, come on.” Rowan twirled her around to face him, maneuvering her so that she was walking backward. Gentle hands on her waist guided her so she didn’t miss a single step. The farther they got from the crowd around the main gateway, the more affectionate they could be. Even the Avicen who didn’t mind Echo’s presence among them had a tendency to frown on a relationship between one of their own and a human. The few drops of human blood that coursed through Rowan’s veins were easily overlooked. They didn’t blame him for the sins of his ancestors, but they did blame Echo for leading a nice Avicen boy astray. “What could be so important you can’t tell your”—he glanced around, dropping his voice to a loud stage whisper—“boyfriend?”
There it was. That word. Echo wasn’t sure she’d ever
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