Kingdom of Exiles - Maxym M. Martineau Page 0,62

no salve to alleviate the ache.

No. I was wrong. I didn’t need to understand anything. I needed to get these assassins their beasts, get someone’s blood, and get out. End of story.

And maybe convince Noc to take any beast other than a Gyss. I dug my palms into my eyes and groaned.

Noc was right about one thing—he was hazardous.

After the world’s slowest bath, I made my way to the mirror. The purple swells beneath my eyes had deepened. These assassins would be the death of me. Reaching for my cosmetics, I hid the dark circles and winced when my hand grazed the cracked corner of my lips.

“Seriously?” I muttered, inspecting the chapped edge. I dug into my bag and found a healing salve, slathered it on. A faint gloss clung to my lips. At least it wasn’t obvious. I dabbed a small amount of powder over it to hide the red and dressed. I needed food. Water. Sustenance. My body was falling apart.

Sun high in the sky, I’d missed breakfast entirely, but I managed to shuffle downstairs to eat lunch at the tavern.

The small diner tucked away on the first floor of the inn seated maybe thirty people, and I sat alone at a table made of palm wood. With a bay window open to the baked breeze, linen curtains kissed the edges of the booth. I shoveled fried rice into my mouth and soaked in the sun. Locals chatted aimlessly, carefree smiles plastered onto weatherworn faces. Vendor stalls brimming with glass-blown vases and glittering gems reflected rainbow mosaics on the gravel road. Children’s pealing laughter carried lightly over the barking calls of sellers.

Day three in Ortega Key, and I still had no word on the Myad. I needed that beast in my arsenal. With a beast of that caliber by my side, I’d be stronger. Strong enough to stand up to the Council if I never got the chance to clear my name.

Or if the assassins didn’t cooperate.

An errant chill grazed my skin, and I forked more food into my mouth. Try as I might to focus on my beasts, or on some way of convincing one of these men to donate their blood, my thoughts wouldn’t stay in line. Pushing the plate of food away, I turned back to the vibrant town. A group of children gathered on the outskirts of the market, and in the middle of their congregation was Calem.

The backdrop of canary-yellow vendor stalls couldn’t compete with his brilliant, million-bit grin stretching from ear to ear. A foreign light played through his normally muted-red eyes, and he crouched to the ground before slipping a duffel bag off his shoulder. With quick fingers, he unlatched the flap and started passing out hunks of bread.

My heart stilled. Bony-kneed and grimy, the kids clambered around him, eager gazes transfixed by what they likely considered a feast. And Calem delivered. Loaf after loaf, followed by cheese wrapped in brown paper and canteens of water. They danced in place, tattered clothes two sizes too large nearly dropping off their slim frames. I couldn’t make out their words as they ran away, tossing smiles over their shoulders and clutching their wares to their chests.

But I could see Calem, and at that moment, his grin turned strained—something dark and heavy coloring his ruby eyes a muddy crimson. And then he was gone. Darkness swallowed him like a vacuum, and I was left to stare at nothing more than the mouth of Main Street with its colorful vendors.

The heady scent of spiced cinnamon struck first, followed by a brush of cool air along the back of my neck. “Spying on me?”

Lurching forward, I banged my knee on the table and knocked over my glass of water. “Gods, Calem. Was that necessary?”

He righted the cup, a wry smile touching the corners of his lips. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Entirely. Were you checking out my assets?”

I rubbed my knee and stared at the man leaning over the back of my booth. Something was haunting him. Something was haunting me, too, and resolving that something meant ending this job as quickly as possible—not getting involved with whatever demons Calem kept on lockdown. “You could say I was assessing. I think I have the perfect beast for you.”

His brows knitted together. “You found a beast that will help me with women?”

Rolling my eyes, I gingerly scooted out from the booth and leaned against the table. “You definitely don’t need that. But trust me, you’ll love it.

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