Gods & Thieves

12. Brass and Blood

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Once I'm back in the hallway, I realize Loretto is waiting for me. The other councilors and guards have left, and my mentor is the only one who is still here, lingering in the column's shadow to avoid being seen by a potential passer-by. Loretto looks tense, standing motionless like a statue, lanterns spilling their soft glow over the folds of faer robe.

Noticing me, though, Loretto abandons faer motionless stance and moves away from the column. "Let's go," my mentor says, and starts walking before I can ask.

"Where?"

No answer.

I don't like it. But I don't like staying by the empress's doors a second longer either, so I stuff my hands in my pockets, slouching, and follow Loretto down the hallway.

In silence, we pass several galleries and stairs, our footsteps echoing sinisterly. It's well past midnight, and the lanterns have been dimmed not to disturb the night. I know this is the place my ancestors once called their home, when they ruled and lived here, but I don't feel a whit cozy.

Or safe.

"Where are we going?" I repeat, when I catch Loretto glancing at me over faer shoulder. It's hard to read the look on Loretto's face behind the shadows. It might be resentment, or worry, or anger.

It takes my mentor an ill-tempered moment to answer. "To my apartments. You can't live at a crime scene, and you can't sleep in the streets until they find you a new place. Besides, I vouched for you. Your troubles are mine now, and troubles are all you find when you stay alone."

I halt in the middle of the staircase we've been ascending, pointedly, stamping my foot before stopping. "But why did you vouch for me?" If Maricela is right, and Loretto does use some dark craft to power up faer magic, I'm not going. And if they work together, I'm not agreeing to be the next victim willingly, either. Even if I can't win this fight, I'm still fighting.

Without turning to face me, Loretto stops, too.

I instinctively clench my fists, clasping my broken watch in my pocket. It's a miracle I still haven't lost it, really, as I often misplace things. The longer Loretto stands still, the harder my nails dig into my clenched palms, anticipating some blow or a slap. I can't even tell why exactly, maybe because of Loretto's calm behavior during the meeting, or lack of explanations on faer part, or the unreasonable promise to take me for faer responsibility. But what comes next, I couldn't have predicted.

"Tell me you didn't kill Valto," Loretto says quietly. Almost like a plea.

I stare at faer back, taken aback. "What?"

At last, Loretto turns around, faer long hair whipping through the air like a silk veil, darker than the night. When our eyes meet this time, Loretto's schooled calmness is gone. If I could at least have tried to guess Maricela's age by her dashing and unbound bearing, Loretto has somehow managed to lose all faer confidence and superior effect on me in a blink. Something new, something young and unguarded shines in Loretto's eyes now. Vulnerable.

Fear.

Fae thinks I did it, I realize with a new wave of shock. Loretto is afraid of ME. I was the last to arrive at the meeting, which means Maricela had time to tell Loretto the same thing she told me after she sent everyone out. She told me Loretto might be the killer, and she must have told Loretto I might be the one.

They're not working together. They never will, I can see it in Loretto's fragile posture now.

And here we are, staring at each other, suspecting one another, buying Maricela's provocation. We might both know I'm the last person who is able to hurt a shaman, but all my actions lately make me notorious for acting first and thinking later. Besides, we also both know that every power has a weakness, Loretto said so faerself. Perhaps my mentor thinks I've found one.