He glances sidelong at me, his grin growing. “I certainly hope so.”
All right, enough of whatever this is. I clap my hands to get their attention. “Right. Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, shall we get moving?”
Instead of letting Wynn go, Senan tugs her out of the alley, leaving me to chase after them. “Tell me this,” he says, leaning close, as if the two of them are in cahoots, “does Allette speak of me often? Does she call for me in her sleep? Does she draw pictures of me when she daydreams?”
Wynn’s high-pitched laughter bounces off the buildings as she hurries along beside him. “Let’s just say that our dear Allette isn’t nearly as pleased to see her other suitors.”
Senan’s spine stiffens, and his steps slow. “Has she many suitors?”
“Oh, yes. At least three or four callers a week.”
A few months ago, that may have been true. But ever since I met Senan, that number has dwindled. Mostly because when other men arrive, I show them no interest whatsoever.Unfortunately, Lord Windell seems to be the only man unable to take the hint.
Senan glances at me from over his shoulder, his brows reaching all the way to his dark hair.
All I can do is shrug. He has no reason to be jealous. None of my suitors hold a candle to him.
Unlikehisbetrothed, who is surely beautiful and rich and destined to rule an entire kingdom.
Sighing, I lift my gaze toward the thick layer of dark clouds lingering above us. There is something unsettling about not being able to see the stars or moon. Even with the orange fae lights, it still seems so bloody dark.
The wingless Tuath toil in the persistent mist that lingers below our Scathian towers and castles. Down here, they almost never see the sun that we rely on to replenish our magic. Which isn’t an issue for them, I suppose, considering they possess none.
A handful of other fae wearing masks dart from between the thin buildings, falling into step behind us. The conversation about other men, thankfully, ends there.
The closer we get to Kumulus City’s center, the shorter the buildings become, some not even reaching the low-hanging clouds. Glass glitters like fallen stars on the cobblestones beneath boarded-up windows. Shutters sag on rusted hinges. Something with yellow eyes blinks from beneath a handcart missing a wheel. A cat, perhaps. Or a rat.
I’ve never seen a rat myself, but I’ve heard they are dirty, nasty things that carry awful diseases.
Eventually, we reach a black, windowless building as wide as any tower I’ve seen. The flat roof ends right below the clouds, as if the Scathian council doesn’t want its darkness to taint our pristine skyscape above.
No sign hangs over the wide, double doors.
This place doesn’t need one.
Everyone in Kumulus knows of the infamous Black Hole.
The doors ease open, and a young man stumbles out, sagging red wings protruding from his naked back, his skin glowing like he swallowed a living flame.
I’ve never seen a stardust user in person.Fascinating. And kind of beautiful—if you look past the fact that stardust is illegal and can be quite lethal.
Warm fingers wrap around my wrist. Senan pulls me past the star-duster and into an alley that reeks of stale wine. And is that vomit? I pinch my nose against the revolting stench.
A shaft of silver light glimmers from the far end. Wynn smiles at us, seeming oblivious to the smell. The closer we get to the portal, the harder my heart pounds. It feels as if my entire life has led to this very moment. After tonight, I’ll wake up a brand-new woman—one who has experienced the joy and excitement of traversing realms. Someday, I’ll tell my children stories about this very night.
We emerge from the alley into a small square surrounded by low houses. At least twenty Scathians wait around a white marble pool in the center, colorful wings at their backs and liquid starlight painting their masks with silver streaks.
Wynn pokes my arm, gesturing toward a man with mousy brown hair, wearing a bear mask. “Is that the bunny killer?”
Curse that man. Why isn’t he hunting bunnies or cleaning pistols? Is he planning to murder defenseless animals in the human realm so he can cut off their soft little feet?
“Who is the bunny killer?” Senan whispers, his warm breath tickling the shell of my ear.
“No one.”
Like the nosy nellie he is, Senan turns to Wynn and asks her instead.
“He is one of Allette’s most frequent visitors,” Wynn explains like a traitor.