Celeste

  My breath left me in a rush that hurt.

  “Ar—” I caught myself.

  His mouth twitched into a soft smile. His eyes were alert, tired even—but very much alive.

  I didn’t move.

  I just stood there and looked at him, afraid that if I blinked too hard he’d dissolve back into the city like smoke. I took him in piece by piece, the way you do when you’re trying to convince yourself something is real.

  The cloak he wore wasn’t new. He looked thinner than I remembered. Not weak. Just worn, like the road had taken its share.

  Beside me, Lioren finally lowered his hands. I felt him move more than I saw it, the tension easing just a little.

  Art’s eyes flicked to him, then came back to me.

  Slowly, like he was afraid of startling me, he stepped forward.

  My feet moved before I told them to. The space between us closed, and suddenly he was there—close enough that I could see his face clearly now.

  Then his arms pulled me in.

  I inhaled, breath catching in my throat as the weight of him closed around me. His hand pressed between my shoulder blades, anchoring me there as if he was afraid to let go.

  My hands came up, gripping his cloak hard, fingers digging into the rough fabric as if I could hold him in place by force alone. I pressed my face into his shoulder and pulled him closer.

  He was warm.

  My chest tightened as my arms wrapped fully around him, locking him there, afraid that if I loosened my hold he’d disappear again. The city faded to a distant murmur, the alley narrowing until there was nothing left but the rise and fall of his breath beneath my cheek.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he whispered.

  Reluctantly, I eased my grip.

  I let my hands fall, though it felt like prying my fingers loose from something I needed. He stepped back just enough to look down at me, his expression a small smile.

  Tilting my head up, I searched his face, looking into those pale gray eyes I’d grown accustomed to.

  The smile didn’t last. His gaze hardened as it slid past me, down the alley and back toward the street. “We need to move. There’s someone after you.”

  His attention shifted between Lioren and me.

  “I can’t explain here. I’ve got a place nearby, a district over.”

  Before I could respond, his hand closed around mine, the contact gentle but firm.

  He turned without another word and started walking, drawing me with him. His steps were confident as he walked, as if the city were already mapped in his head.

  I looked back at Lioren. He raised a brow, smirked at our joined hands, and kept pace without a word.

  The alley opened into a broader street, then narrowed again. We passed beneath dim lanterns and through pockets of noise that rose and fell. Art didn’t slow. His grip guiding me through the crowd.

  I focused on the feel of his hand in mine, on the gentle pull of it as he guided me through the streets.

  The streets grew quieter the farther we went. Shops closed up around us, shutters drawn closed, the smell of smoke and damp stone filling the air as street vendors doused their braziers.

  Art finally slowed down right in front of a bakery.

  The sign above the door hung crooked. The windows were dark, shelves inside bare save for a few loaves wrapped in cloth. No lantern burned within. No voices drifted out.

  I frowned, glancing up at Art, then back at the shop. Beside me, Lioren gave him a look, brows knit, expression clearly asking the same question I was.

  Art didn’t explain.

  He released my hand and reached into his cloak, pulling free a set of keys. They chimed softly as he found the right one and slipped it into the lock.

  The door opened with a quiet creak.

  “Inside,” he said, already stepping through.

  We followed. The door closed behind us and the lock slid home with a solid sound, making my shoulders loosen a bit despite myself.

  The shop smelled faintly of old flour and yeast, the kind of warmth that lingered long after ovens had gone cold. Art crossed the room without hesitation and pushed open a narrow door behind the counter.

  A short hallway waited beyond, then a set of stairs. He took it two steps at a time, guiding us through the narrow stairwell until we reached the top. At the top, Art unlocked one final door and ushered us inside.

  The room was small. A single bed against one wall, a narrow table, a chair pulled close beneath a shuttered window.

  Art closed the door behind us. Only then did he turn back to face us, the city finally sealed away on the other side of the walls.

  For a moment, he just looked at me.

  “It’s really good to see you safe,” he said softly.

  I nodded once, my voice taking a second to find its way back. “It’s good to see you too.”

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  The silence stretched, fragile and heavy all at once.

  Then Lioren cleared his throat.

  I winced, heat creeping up my neck. “Sorry,” I said quickly, glancing between them. “I should—” I turned toward Lioren and gestured awkwardly. “Samuel, this is Lioren.”

  Lioren dipped his head, one brow lifting in a way that was polite but wary.

  “He’s been traveling with me,” I went on, my words tumbling faster now that they’d started. “He’s… helping me.” I hesitated, then forced myself to say it. “Helping me get Faylen back.”

  I let out a breath and shook my head faintly. “It’s a long story.”

  Art’s gaze sharpened at the name and nodded once.

  I fidgeted, suddenly aware of how small the room felt. My pulse was still running too fast, my body caught somewhere between the alley and his arms.

  “You look—” I stopped myself, unsure where the sentence was meant to go. Different. Tired.

  He huffed a faint breath. “You too.”

  That earned a small, involuntary smile from me. It faded just as quickly when his eyes flicked past my shoulder, scanning the shuttered window. The softness drained from his expression.

  Art turned toward Lioren fully for the first time.

  “I appreciate you watching her,” he said.

  Lioren inclined his head. “Could’ve done worse with my time.”

  The air felt stiff.

  I cleared my throat, suddenly needing to anchor the moment. “He’s been with me now for a while.”

  Art’s gaze returned to me.

  “I should tell you something,” I said quickly. “I didn’t come to Rodin right away like you told me to.”

  The admission sat heavy in my chest. I dropped my eyes, guilt and embarrassment from what I’d endured since we parted ate away at me.

  “Still stubborn,” he said.

  I huffed. “Always.”

  His smile lingered, then faded as he shook his head once. “It’s probably a good thing you didn’t listen to me.”

  I gave him a quizzical look.

  “I only got here two days ago,” he continued. “Took longer than I planned.” His jaw tightened. “I got away from the Magister and his men near eight days past—just barely.”

  He let out a slow breath.

  “I left with nothing. No coin. No horse. Not even my boots.”

  I glanced at his feet before I could stop myself. His boots did look newer.

  “I came the rest of the way on foot.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, Lioren was still staring at his boots.

  “As soon as I reached Rodin, I started looking for you,” he continued. “I kept an ear open while I did. Listening for any word of the Black Veil and their movements.”

  My stomach tightened.

  “It didn’t take long. Word started circulating about a girl with red hair and a man with a braided beard asking questions after them.”

  Lioren gave a sheepish grin. “We weren’t exactly subtle, were we?”

  The corner of Art’s mouth twitched. “No.”

  He looked back at me then. “That’s how I knew it was you and was able to find you yesterday.”

  A small, sharp ache flared in me. He had known where I was—seen me, even—yet he hadn’t approached.

  “You were already drawing too much attention. If I had made contact, I’d have added myself to it. And I couldn’t afford to be seen.”

  He held my gaze. “Not if I’m going to help you.”

  I swallowed, the hurt lingering even as understanding followed close behind.

  Lioren crossed his arms. “Then you mind explainin’ why you ran us into a dead end?”

  “Because someone was tailing you,” Art said.

  Lioren’s brows knit together. “So it wasn’t just you?”

  Art shook his head. “I followed you this morning from the inn. I already knew where you were staying. I watched as you took the southern gate closest to the lower district. You were traveling light, so I knew you weren’t leaving the city for good.”

  I frowned. “What if we were heading to the hideout?”

  “If you were, you would’ve taken your supplies.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s farther than a day’s ride from the city. I’d at least learned that much.”

  Lioren let out a short laugh. “You weren’t jokin’ when you said this one tracks better than a hound.”

  I shot him a look.

  He’d only been here two days, yet in that time, he’d not only found me, but uncovered more about the Veil’s operations than Lioren and I had managed in four.

  The realization stung.

  “I never compared him to a hound,” I said defensively.

  Art looked between the two of us, a faint smile lingering at the corner of his mouth.

  His attention shifted back to the matter at hand. “I kept tracking today while you were outside the city. I narrowed the area—not enough to pinpoint their location, but enough to limit where they could be. By midafternoon I went to your inn. You weren’t there. So I waited at the gate—figured you’d come back the same way.”

  The faint trace of warmth left his face. “Only this time, I wasn’t the only one watching.”

  He didn’t have to name who he meant. Our questions had already led the Veil straight to us.

  “I followed you from a distance,” he continued. “Long enough to see someone else doing the same. I didn’t know what their plan was for the night.”

  “So you made yourself the target,” Lioren said, nodding as if in understanding.

  Art inclined his head. “I had to try and help you lose your tail. You didn’t know you were being followed—and neither did the man following you know I was there.”

  I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

  The streets replayed themselves in my mind. I tried to picture every face I’d passed, grasping for anything that might have stood out.

  “So, I stepped out. Made myself visible and let you think I was the Veil.”

  The room fell quiet for a moment.

  I glanced around at the narrow walls, the shuttered window, the small bed Lioren sat on.

  “How do you have keys to this place?” I asked.

  Art followed my gaze around the room, then shrugged. “As I mentioned, when I gotten away from the Magister, I left properly broke. I picked up work where I could. Guarding doors. Keeping drunks from killing each other.”

  I laughed, surprised. “You? A house guard? Sorry. I can’t see you standing in a tavern doorway, keeping the peace.”

  The corner of his mouth turned upward. “It was a short-lived career. Anyway, I took a few odd jobs after that, until I signed on as a caravan guard heading north. But even with the extra coin, staying in this city isn’t cheap.”

  Lioren snorted. “Aye. City’s so damn expensive it’ll near take your boots from under you.”

  Art let out a breath through his nose. “I liked those boots.”

  His gaze drifted around the room.

  “So I looked for something other than an inn. Somewhere forgettable. The baker had an empty room he wasn’t using. Didn’t want strangers lingering during the day, but he was willing to rent it out for the night—as long as you made yourself scarce during operating hours.”

  Art glanced back at me. “And it’s far enough from your inn to keep us off the same trail.”

  His words lingered with me, awareness of the danger he’d steered us away from without us ever knowing it was there.

  I sank onto the edge of the chair by the table, suddenly aware of how tired my legs were, how thin the line had been between walking back to our inn and walking into the Veil’s trap.

  I drew a breath and let it out slowly, calming myself.

  “So,” I said at last, lifting my eyes to him. “What’s the plan now?”

  “You stay here tonight,” he said.

  Lioren stretched out on the bed, making himself comfortable. “Not the most comfortable, but better than a knife in my back.”

  Art’s gaze never left me. “I’ll need the key to your inn.”

  I blinked. “Why?”

  “To get your things,” he replied simply. “They’ll be watching for you. Not me.”

  I nodded slowly, understanding his meaning. “They don’t know what you look like, so if they’re watching the inn, they’ll be waiting for a girl with red hair and a man with a braided beard.”

  I turned the idea over in my mind. The thought of him walking back into danger alone made my fingers curl against the arm of the chair.

  “And after?” I asked.

  “After. We’ll search for answers together,” he said.

  The word together echoed softly in my mind.

  I reached into my pack and drew out the inn key. I crossed the room and pressed it into his palm.

  “Swear to me you’ll be careful,” I said.

  His fingers closed around the key. “I always am.”

  A faint smile touched his mouth.

  Only then did I let go.

  Lioren pushed himself up from the bed with a grunt. “Don’t forget my spare boots,” he added, mischief in his voice. “I’d hate to lose those too.”

  Art glanced at Lioren, then back to me.

  “I’ll make sure your things are safe,” he said. “As for his—” he cut a look back at Lioren. “I’ll see what I can do, if there’s time.”

  I bit back a smile.

  “Careful,” Lioren snorted. “Leave my boots behind and I’ll track you next.”

  Art opened the door and paused, looking back at me. “I won’t be long.”

  Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.