Gallow’s fingers were gentle. “Robin.” Testing the name.
“Gallow.” She tugged away. “Come, we must hurry. Peleaster may not tell them anything, but it’s safest not to trust his mercy. One does better trusting his temper, which has probably been sorely tested tonight.”
“True.” He didn’t try to catch her again, simply followed meekly in her wake.
THE TRUE DANGER
24
Nestled in a greenbelt on a run-down residential street, thickly fringed with holly and laurel—good wood, and healthy—was a mossy stone that vibrated ever so slightly when Robin brushed her fingertips against it. Jeremiah looked again, and realized that it must be a meeting of two ley lines. The earth had arteries, and the lines of chantment, however tangled by mortal iron, were part of that great net.
No wonder the stone looked like its roots ran deep. This was safe—probably much safer than his own house right now.
No reason to be nervous. Just… he’d grown used to sleeping in a bed.
“Do you know the warming breath?” She knelt, gracefully, and looked up at him. In the shadows her hair reminded him again of Daisy, though everything else was different, and he had to suppress a guilty start.
The Half and Tainted learned the breath early, if they didn’t begin using it instinctively. Of course he knew. “Ah. Yeah. Yes, I do.”
“I’d suggest using it tonight. I don’t dare chantment a fire. It might draw attention.” Little traceries of steam rose from her bare shoulders. The sidhe ran warm, except the riverkin and trolls. Even the drow had fire in their blood.
Before he knew it, he’d dropped his backpack and slid out of his coat. “Here.”
“There is no need for—”
He draped it around her. She wouldn’t need its shelter, but he’d already given. No reason to take the chivalry back. “Call it a gesture, then. You fought with me.”
“Only because I feared for myself.” Her mouth twisted down, bitterly. “Or so many would say.”
“Would they be right?” He squatted easily as she scooted back, settling against the stone.
“Perhaps. I would ask you a question.” The coat was ridiculously large on her, and its shabby wornness only made the gloss of sidhe beauty on her more incandescent. Now she was shadows and silk, her eyes blue glimmers and the russet in her hair lost. Very little light from the streetlamps penetrated this hollow. The jagged slices in the coat’s material where the wights had almost caught him had vanished in the dimness.
He nodded, watching her pale throat as she swallowed. “Ask.”
“Who is Sylvia? You slew them in her name.”
It jolted him into sudden alertness. “They killed her earlier today.”
“I am sorry.” She dropped her chin, probably staring at the ground. “Panko. And Sylvia. I will remember.”
“They aren’t yours to avenge.” Now he sounded harsh. It was only because there was a dry stone in his throat. She had remembered, something exceptional from a flighty sidhe. Even Half aped forgetfulness sometimes. Or it rubbed off from the highbloods.
Like a disease.
The unsettling idea that he might not truly remember Daisy’s face occurred again, circling like a lazy broad-winged curse.
“Very well.” She went still. Her hair fell forward, shadowing her face. She could probably sleep there, propped against the stone. He should keep watch, but it had been a hell of a day.
Even highbloods needed surcease.
“Robin Ragged, I would ask you a question.” I’ve earned at least that much.
“Ask.” Did she sound wary, or half amused? Or both?
“Do you have a family? You were older when you were taken.…” He let it trail away. A question and a half—perhaps she would bargain.
What would she ask in return?
“My mortal kin… they didn’t want me.” Softly, very softly. Of course, now that he’d heard the song swelling from her—no, not song. Pure music, a swelling of organ notes, deep and throbbing hurtfully in the bones, as her lips opened and her face changed, transfigured. She probably could have sung the horseman an injury or two, but she’d been running, and tired—and probably breathless as well. “A free sidhe found me, told me of the sideways realms, and stood almost-godfather to me. When I was brought to Summer she accepted me as a gift.” A long pause. There was almost certainly more to that story. “I am… grateful, that Unwinter didn’t find me first.”
He might find you yet. Or both of us. “I am, as well.” He wanted to ask more, but she sighed, a weary sound like and unlike Daisy’s. “Rest. We’re safe enough here.”