“A pleasure to meet you both.” Cornelius turned, striding over a dirt path that led out of the common, toward the rising sun. On either side of the road stood weather-beaten houses, their steep roofs jutting in different directions like old gravestones. Their irregular windows were inset with tiny, diamond-shaped panes.
She shot a quick glance at Oswald. She’d be sharing a house with a maniacal gutter rat. Not only did he hate her, but he was dangerous. How could someone slaughter two trained Throcknell guards in twenty seconds flat? She’d have to sleep with one eye open.
“Cornelius,” she ventured, “is Estelle’s word always final? Does she ever change her mind?”
The man shook his head as they turned into a smaller alley. “She’s the Queen. What she says, goes. And she knows I have two rooms.” They slowed before a small, sharp-peaked house painted black and he opened the front door, beckoning them inside.
Celia smiled as charmingly as she could manage. “Are they close to each other?”
Pausing on the front step, Cornelius glanced back at her. “Don’t worry. You’ll be right next to each other. My two boys used to live with me.”
Oswald’s pale, frosty eyes met hers, and the hair rose on the back of her neck.
She searched for something else to ask the werewolf so he wouldn’t leave her alone with the Tatter. “What’s the deal with the sea demons? How often do they come to Dogtown?”
“I’d say about once a year, for tribute. Once they wanted gold, but lately they’ve started taking other things.”
“Like what?”
“People,” he said quietly.
The Picaroons, Celia thought, with a sinking feeling. That’s why he has two extra rooms.
3
Tobias
Oread Mansion was the grandest house in Dogtown. Lanterns cast warm, flickering light over animal-skin rugs and a faded tapestry: a woman walking through the woods with wolves. A copper chandelier dangled from a lofty ceiling.
Tobias and Estelle sat before an enormous copper cauldron that bubbled in a cavernous marble fireplace. A sweet, herbal smell filled the air.
Tobias gripped a hot mug. “You said there was someone here who sold clothes? It would be nice to have a bath and get dressed at some point.”
The cauldron’s warmth had flushed Estelle’s cheeks. “I can help you with the bath, but I’m not sure about the clothes. I like you in what you’re wearing now.”
Tobias nearly spit out his beer.
She smirked. “Was that too far? That’s right—you’re from Maremount. When they sealed off the city, they left out people like me. Someday I’m going to figure out how to get in there, and I’m going to have a lot of fun with all the puritanical men.”
“Right. We’re terribly shy.”
Puritanical. That was pretty much the opposite of what Oswald would say about him. His friend had once caught Tobias stepping out of the House of the Swan Ladies, clothing rumpled, when he should have been with Eden. Oswald had punched him in the face and called him a filthy whoremonger.
Which, maybe, he was. But it wasn’t like he paid for it. They actually enjoyed his company.
The teeth on Estelle’s necklace made a gentle clicking sound as she leaned toward him. “How did a fire demon end up with a bat girl?”
“She’s a friend from school. She’s a nice girl. Honestly, she doesn’t spy for anyone. She hardly knows any magic.”
“There’s something very wrong with her. You know that, don’t you?”
“She saved my life.” He cocked his head. “More than once, come to think of it. Tell me—why do you hate bats, but you’re fine with fire demons? My magic is more powerful than Fiona’s by far, and I’m bound to Emerazel. What if I were spying for the fire goddess?”
She ran a finger over the rim of her cup. “You can spy all you want, but Emerazel and Borgerith, Our Lady of Stone, are allied. Mishett-Ash of the Skies, too. If you know anything about Emerazel, you would know that already, so I don’t imagine you’re spying for anyone.”
“Right.” An alliance. He had no idea what gods needed allies for. What exactly did they do? He’d never paid attention to religious studies. Oswald soaked those lessons up, but the gods were too remote to hold Tobias’s attention. Or at least—they had been at one time.
She eyed him over her cup. “How do you like your dire drink?”
He took another sip of the warm, spiced beer. “Delicious.”
“Dire drinks are our way of life. Sometimes, they mean beer. Other times, potions. Everything comes from the cauldron. Through Borgerith’s copper, she gives us life.”
Right. The gods all had their own metals. “I see. A town of healers. I guess I’m in good hands if I get injured, then.”
“My hands are all yours.” Her eyes roamed down his chest. “Why did you do it? Why did you commit yourself to Emerazel, knowing the consequences?”
That was the thing. He hadn’t exactly known the consequences, but it seemed like the kind of thing he couldn’t admit at this point. “I was stuck in a tight spot.”