City of Spells (Into the Crooked Place #2) - Alexandra Christo Page 0,27

his bones were shaking. The fact that a man like Ashwood saw kinship in Wesley made him want to be sick, and the worst part was Wesley had nobody to blame but himself, because he had fed into that, carefully nurturing his reputation as an evil bastard and doing whatever it took to rise to the top and stay in the Kingpin’s good graces.

Including sacrificing Zekia.

But that was then and this was now.

Now, despite what the Kingpin wanted, Wesley wasn’t scared that one day his promises would sound too pretty to ignore and all the horrors that had happened would start to look like a means to an end. That without Tavia, or even the likes of Saxony and Karam, to balance Wesley out, the worst parts of him would rise to the surface.

Maybe once, it would have been possible.

Maybe in another lifetime, or if everything Wesley loved wasn’t hanging in the balance. But now, here, in this place, Wesley could never side with someone like Dante Ashwood. Not when he could see the city he loved withering in the cold dead of night.

Wesley had only stuck around this long to see if he could pull Zekia from the old man’s clutches, but he knew now that it was too late. Too much had happened, and Wesley being here only made her want to stay more.

It was time to go and if Zekia wouldn’t come, then he’d do what he had done all those years ago.

Wesley would leave her behind to rot.

9

Tavia

THE MOON WAS HIGH and there were monsters lurking beyond the forest.

Tavia had seen her fair share of evil and heard her fair share of whispers, but there was something different in the wind tonight, and as it swayed through the tree branches it almost sounded like a croon. It sounded like death.

She patrolled a lot, mostly out of habit from nights spent wandering the streets as a busker in search of people to sell the Kingpin’s darkest magic to. Tavia was restless and she wasn’t used to sitting still, or standing around doing nothing.

Especially at night.

Nobody else was interested in the patrols the way she was. The Crafters in the Rishiyat camp were either too confident in their power, or too complacent in their hidden sanctuary, but either way none of them thought to search the trees for intruders. Even Karam seemed to be spending most nights focused on pillow talk with Saxony, instead of hunting for enemies.

Maybe Tavia was just the mad one who needed to stop looking for danger where there was none and enjoy the small solace they had found while it lasted. She’d thought about that a lot over the past few days as she searched the woods alone and found nothing but crisp leaves and, once, a small snake that didn’t even take the time to hiss at her before slithering away. She thought about it tonight as the moon stared down at her in judgment and begged her to just go to sleep already.

And then she heard the crack of those crisp leaves—a sound that could only be footprints on the dirt—and she felt the whispering trees gasp, and suddenly Tavia didn’t feel like she was mad anymore.

She hid behind a mossy trunk, her hand on her knife hilt as Nolan Kane, the cocky little bastard she had bested back in the city center, sighed, unzipped his pants, and started to piss on a nearby tree root.

Tavia resisted the urge to look away, just in case he spotted her and tried to pull something, but the wincing couldn’t be helped.

How in the fire-gates did he find this place? And what in the name of the Many Gods is he doing here alone?

Alone.

Tavia focused on that, just as she focused on the backpack by his feet. More magic, ready for the taking.

Nolan didn’t look like he had company. In fact, as he swayed and pressed a hand to a tree trunk for balance while he carried on with his business, he looked a little drunk, his eyes bloodshot under the light of the stars.

Drunk and alone, with a heap of magic at his side.

Now that was interesting.

Tavia stepped from the shadows and the trees rustled in warning. Perhaps for her to run and turn back, or perhaps to alert the others that someone was so close to their camp.

Tavia ignored the trees and focused on the magic by Nolan’s feet. She could take on one drunk busker, and his backpack looked too good