Page 48 of Tides of Shadows

This part of the city was the White City’s shadow, everything the Palace pretended did not exist.

Aidenar turned into a narrow passage where two brutes with clubs stood guard, flanking a lean man with sharp black eyes.

“Well now,” the lean man said, eyeing me with interest. “A White Lord with a pretty girl. That’s new.”

My fingers closed around my knives.

Aidenar caught my wrist, gentle but firm.

“Omar,” he said calmly. “If you keep staring at her, I will tell your wife.”

Omar scoffed. “A man cannot even look anymore?” He grinned wider. “Good to see you, my Lord. I was beginning to think the Palace had swallowed you whole. The girls have been asking after you. They miss you terribly.”

I rolled my eyes.

Aidenar laughed. “They will have to wait a little longer. I have other matters today.”

He pressed a small pouch of coins into Omar’s hand. Omar returned it with a thin stack of documents. Aidenar padded him on the shoulder, and we passed through the gate into darker streets beyond.

As we left, Aidenar called back with a smile, “Kiss Beatrice for me.”

Omar barked a laugh. “She wishes!”

We walked on. I stared at Aidenar.

“What?” he asked at last.

“You keep interesting company,” I said.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Oh. There’s a lot more going on outside the palace. You noticed yourself that walls have eyes and ears. Here, good information is often worth more than coins.”

I’d never seen this side of him. I’d assumed he cared only for balls, women, and pleasures. At the Gathering he never spoke. His mother always did. He only watched, silent and observed.

“This is it,” Aidenar said, pulling me from my thoughts.

We stood before a narrow door set into a crumbling stone building.

“I will wait outside,” he added.

“You are not coming in with me?” I asked.

“No. Whatever she says is meant for you.”

I stepped inside.

If I had thought the palace medics kept strange jars, this place surpassed them all. Shelves bowed beneath the weight of grotesque curiosities. Dead lizards fused to things that might once have been birds. Amulets and talismans hung from every beam. Bowls filled with pebbles and beads covered the table and shelves, sorted by no order I could discern.

From the inner room emerged an old woman with a storm of white hair. She was barely half my height. I could not recall ever seeing someone so small. Her skin was wrinkled like a raisin, and her eyes were pale as fog. Her weird jewelry chimed softly, beads whispering against one another as she moved.

“Oh. Another one,” she croaked. “There are more of you now. Everything returns. Just like the old days.”

She tilted her head. “What brings you here, child of the sea?”

“My brother,” I said. “He is ill.”

I could not summon the strength to explain it all again. But she did not ask for more. She simply extended her hand.

I placed my palm in hers.