She pulled him toward the edge of the alley and directed her thoughts at the Leerings, commanding them to prevent people from leaving the alley instead of approaching it. She felt the Leerings respond to her thoughts, and suddenly waves of terror and dread washed over her. She pulled the kishion into the street, beyond the Leerings’ range. The streets here were teeming with people, many of them carrying shovels or spades and chanting. She glanced back at the alley, where the soldiers now cowered in place, overcome by the fear caused by the Leerings. They would neither be able to pursue them nor track their steps.
“Clever,” the kishion praised. They walked swiftly, putting distance between themselves and Pent Tower. Maia saw the steeple of Claredon Abbey ahead—escape. But Suzenne and Dodd were still back at the castle, and she was unwilling to abandon her friends.
“The mayor is part of this revolt?” she asked him.
The kishion nodded. “He is loyal to you, Maia. Most of the city is loyal to you. Most of the realm is as well. They are teetering on the brink. You will steady them. You were meant for this.”
She stared at him and began to understand the look in his eyes. The cynical, murderous part of him was sloughing off. The look he gave her was almost . . . tender. He respected her. He admired her.
She was surprised. “You did this . . . for me?” she whispered.
He met her look and nodded curtly. “I do not serve the Victus. I do not serve Deorwynn. I serve you. My lady. My queen.”
Maia trembled at what he said. Fear coiled in her heart like a serpent. The look in his eyes. He was staring at her with . . . an eagerness she was unaccustomed to seeing in him. The pressing need to find safety brought her back to the present moment.
“Do you know where Flax Street is?” she asked him. “Can you take me there?”
He nodded. “It is nearby.”
It was where Collier had told her she would find the business of Simon Fox, his spy from Dahomey. She knew the man was also a spy of the Victus, but he was betraying the Dochte Mandar to support Maia’s grandmother.
They walked, hand in hand, through the crowded street. Maia was appalled at the filth clogging the gutters, the broken windows and lopsided houses and shops. Flies buzzed around the commotion, heedless of the human troubles, seeking their foul nectars to drink. The stench in the air was strong. The city was large and had never been as clean as the streets of Rostick, but it had never been this foul. Her father’s misdeeds had drowned his kingdom in sorrow and filth.
As they reached Flax Street, Maia could discern the scent of wine from the other odors. She saw several shops before her eyes fixed on the one with Fox’s name. They hurried toward it, each step feeling lighter and more hopeful.
“I must leave you now,” the kishion said, releasing her hand. “I know you will be safe here.” He stared into her eyes without looking away.
Yes, there it was again—something had changed in this hard man. There was devotion in his gaze . . . ardent devotion. What had she done to deserve it?
She had saved his life from the Fear Liath. She recalled the last words they had spoken when he lay crippled by his wounds. He had asked her to leave him. To escape him. She had denied him vehemently and brought him to a healer at the village below Cruix Abbey.
“Where are you going?” Maia asked fearfully.
He smirked. “You would not approve. The chancellor is the next to fall. When the mayor brings you to the palace, you will find it ready to welcome you. Farewell, Maia. I will be near if you need me.”
Without another word, he turned and vanished into the crowded street beyond.
CHAPTER SIX
The King’s Daughter
When Maia pushed open the door to the trading shop on Flax Street, she was surprised to see so many people bustling about frantically. She spotted Simon Fox quickly. He had seemed solemn and almost detached in Muirwood, but now he looked agitated and unkempt. His velvet cap was gone, his brown hair was mussed, and his eyes were bleary from lack of sleep. He was talking to three men at once, but when he noticed her, his eyes blazed wide and he nearly shoved the men aside.
“Lady Maia!” he said, choking. He rushed to her side, staring at her in utter amazement. “But how? You are here? Truly? Or do my eyes deceive me?” He reached out and touched her arm, as if to assure himself that she was not a phantom.
“I am safe,” she answered, searching the room. “But where is my husband?”
“In the front lines of the crowd attempting to force entry into the castle. Tanner and Brent—quickly! Tell him that she is here.”
“At once,” one of the men replied. Needing no further instruction, both of them rushed out the door.
Simon went to the window, looked out quickly, and then steered her into a comfortable, furnished back room. He gestured for her to take a seat in what had to be his chair—a thick, padded leather chair behind a broad desk. She chose a small couch instead and sat down, trying to calm her trembling hands.
“How are you even here?” he asked in utter astonishment.
“I was rescued,” she answered.
“By?”
She stared at him. “The kishion whom my father hired to kill me.”