Aelin clicked her tongue. “Chaol, it seems, likes to keep information to himself.”
He clenched his fists at his sides. “You’re drawing too much attention to us.”
“Am I?” Aelin lifted a dagger, weighing it in her hands with expert ease. “I need to talk to Brullo and my old friend Ress. Since you refused to let me come the other night, this was the only way.”
So typical of her. Nesryn had taken a casual step away, monitoring the carved tunnels. Or avoiding the queen.
Queen. The word struck him again. A queen of the realm was in the Shadow Market, in head-to-toe black, and looking more than happy to start slitting throats. He hadn’t been wrong to fear her reunion with Aedion—what they might do together. And if she had her magic …
“Take off your hood,” Brullo said quietly. Aelin looked up.
“Why, and no.”
“I want to see your face.”
Aelin went still.
But Nesryn turned back and leaned a hand on the table. “I saw her face last night, Brullo, and it’s as pretty as before. Don’t you have a wife to ogle, anyway?”
Aelin snorted. “I think I rather like you, Nesryn Faliq.”
Nesryn gave Aelin a half smile. Practically beaming, coming from her.
Chaol wondered whether Aelin would like Nesryn if she knew about their history. Or whether the queen would even care.
Aelin tugged back her hood only far enough for the light to hit her face. She winked at Ress, who grinned. “I missed you, friend,” she said. Color stained Ress’s cheeks.
Brullo’s mouth tightened as Aelin looked at him again. For a moment, the Weapons Master studied her. Then he murmured, “I see.” The queen stiffened almost imperceptibly. Brullo bowed his head, ever so slightly. “You’re going to rescue Aedion.”
Aelin pulled her hood into place and inclined her head in confirmation, the swaggering assassin incarnate. “I am.”
Ress swore filthily under his breath.
Aelin leaned closer to Brullo. “I know I’m asking a great deal of you—”
“Then don’t ask it,” Chaol snapped. “Don’t endanger them. They risk enough.”
“That’s not your call to make,” she said.
Like hell it wasn’t. “If they’re discovered, we lose our inside source of information. Not to mention their lives. What do you plan to do about Dorian? Or is it only Aedion you care about?”
They were all watching far too closely.
Her nostrils flared. But Brullo said, “What is it you require of us, Lady?”
Oh, the Weapons Master definitely knew, then. He must have seen Aedion recently enough to have recognized those eyes, that face and coloring, the moment she pulled back her hood. Perhaps he had suspected it for months now. Aelin said softly, “Don’t let your men be stationed at the southern wall of the gardens.”
Chaol blinked. Not a request or an order—but a warning.
Brullo’s voice was slightly hoarse as he said, “Anywhere else we should avoid?”
She was already backing away, shaking her head as if she were a disinterested buyer. “Just tell your men to pin a red flower on their uniforms. If anyone asks, say it’s to honor the prince on his birthday. But wear them where they can easily be seen.”
Chaol glanced at her hands. Her dark gloves were clean. How much blood would stain them in a few days? Ress loosed a breath and said to her, “Thank you.”
It wasn’t until she’d vanished into the crowd with a jaunty swagger that Chaol realized thanks were indeed in order.
Aelin Galathynius was about to turn the glass palace into a killing field, and Ress, Brullo, and his men had all been spared.