The weapon was sheathed in a plain black scabbard, but the hilt was exposed, showing off the five-pointed star carved into the metal there. Smaller stars ran down the hilt and were also etched into the blade itself.
Surprise flashed in the guards’ eyes, and a few of them whispered to each other, wondering whether my sword was really made out of bloodiron. Given the metal’s name, you would expect the weapon to be a rusty red, but the sword was actually a dull, ashy gray. They were called black blades by most magicks because of one simple, horrifying fact—the more blood you got on the blade, the blacker the metal became.
I didn’t like the Salazar guards’ scrutiny, and I had to curl my fingers into a tight fist to stop myself from wrapping my hand around the sword’s hilt and hiding the beautiful scrollwork from sight.
Bloodiron was rare, and most weapons made out of it were highly prized—so highly prized that family symbols and crests were carved into the metal to make the weapons easy to identify and harder to sell on the black market. Even I had never stolen a black blade because it just wasn’t worth all the trouble it would take Mo Kaminsky, my pawnbroker friend, to fence it.
Not that I would ever even consider selling my black blade. The sword had been my mom’s, and it was one of the few things I had left of her, along with my star-shaped sapphire ring.
“The more you try to hide your sword, the more attention you draw to it, and yourself too,” Devon murmured, noticing how tense I was. “You’re a Sinclair now, Lila. You don’t have to hide in the shadows anymore. Not from the Salazars, not from anyone. We watch out for each other, remember?”
“Yeah. Right.”
I smiled at him, but I curled my fingers even tighter together to keep from reaching for my sword again.
Devon bought us dark chocolate-covered apples dipped in crushed, toasted almonds and drizzled with raspberry syrup. Felix grabbed his apple, then went back over to the Salazar guard to continue his flirting.
“Let’s go sit in the shade for a few minutes,” Devon said. “That’s how long it will take before Felix runs out of steam.”
I snorted. “Run out of steam? Are you kidding? He’s eating that apple even faster than he talks. All that sugar will just rev up his engine that much more.”
Devon laughed, and we headed toward the nearest bench, which was shaded by a tall maple. I peered up at the tree, but I didn’t spot any trolls, just a couple of rockmunks running up and down the branches, chattering to their chipmunk cousins.
We’d almost reached the bench when I realized exactly where we were in the park—the spot where my mom had once saved Devon from being kidnapped.
White stars flashed on and off in front of my eyes, threatening to crash together, form a solid wall, blot out the here and now, and throw me back into the past.
And make me relive all the horrible memories I wanted to forget.
Devon noticed the stricken look on my face. He stared at me, then at the bench. He winced, realizing exactly what I was thinking about.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize.... We can go somewhere else—”
I forced myself to blink away the white stars and shake my head. “No, it’s fine. Really. Let’s sit.”
I went over and plopped down on the bench, trying not to think about the last time I’d sat here, eating ice cream with my mom. Those white stars rose up in my mind again, but I ruthlessly forced them away. I’d relived that awful day a thousand times in my head, and I didn’t want to do it anymore. Not when I had other things to think about.
Like getting revenge on Victor Draconi for murdering my mom.
Devon sat down beside me, his shoulder brushing mine in a silent show of support. I didn’t look at him because I didn’t want to see or especially feel the soft sympathy that was surely shining in his eyes right now. It would just make me like him more than I already did. I might be a sucker for a cute guy, but I was no fool. And since I planned on leaving the Sinclairs and Cloudburst Falls as soon as I could, there was no point in starting something up with Devon when it would just end all too soon.
Especially when I already cared way too much about him.
Devon pressed his shoulder against mine again, then slid a couple of inches away, giving me the space he realized I needed.
We sat there, munched on our apples, and watched the flow of tourists. The tense, awkward silence between us slowly eased and mellowed, and the white stars and bad memories faded away. Yeah, I wished that my mom was still alive, but she would have been happy that I was here with Devon. My mom had worked for the Sinclairs before me, and she would have been proud to see what a great guy Devon had become—and that her saving him, sacrificing herself for him, hadn’t all been for nothing.
Ten minutes later, Devon and I finished our apples and tossed the sticks into a nearby trash can.
Devon looked over at Felix, who was still chatting up that Salazar guard. “If he keeps that up, he’s going to get in trouble with his girlfriend.”