As they passed through an intersection, Vhalla heard guards running through a nearby street.
“Stay alert for the Windwalker. If the Windwalker is found, bring her to the royal hotel!”
“You’re sure about this?” Jax paused to ask again.
Vhalla only nodded. She wasn’t going back to the Emperor and letting him chain her, chains that he would vow to exchange for her freedom if she gave him another part of her soul. She would confront her crimes and the royal family with her innocence apparent, when none would question her—whenever that ended up being.
The buildings became danker, darker, more flimsily built and even more poorly maintained. Most everyone on the street wore large cowls that hid their faces so no one would witness their presence in this questionable area of town. Jax stopped and knocked three times on a small door, waited ten breaths, and then knocked again. The door slid open, and a man with beady eyes and a scruffy chin blinked up at them.
“We want to stay.” Jax knelt down.
“What will you trade me?” the man asked.
Jax unclipped the golden bracer he wore over his shirt, a symbol of his membership in the Golden Guard. Beady eyes lit up, and the little man was over-eager for the token. Jax pulled it away as the man reached for it.
“You found this.” Jax spoke low and slow, flames glittering around his fingers. “If anyone asks, you don’t know where it came from. Understand?”
Beady eyes nodded furiously.
“We want two weeks.”
“Fine, fine. Give it here.” The small man snatched it from Jax’s fingers and crawled out of the door.
Jax motioned and Vhalla hunched down to pass through the tiny portal, dropping onto a step, and then onto the packed-earth floor of a truly disgusting room. The small window looked more like a sewage chute that had been used by the people who lived along the streets above. The sleeping palette in the corner smelled of mold and damp. A small fire burned in the opposite corner near some hard tack and salted meat, which she wasn’t sure was good enough for the rats she suspected also shared the space at night.
“What is this place?” Vhalla was breathing through her mouth, trying to get used to the stench.
“It’s a hiding hole.” Jax pulled off his cape, dropping it by the door. “They’re used for more colorful dealings here in the Crossroads. Prostitution, gambling, human trafficking.”
Vhalla’s stomach churned as she stared at the stains on the bed.
“But no one will think to look for you in the underbelly of the Crossroads. It’s generally something only Westerners know of, and you have to then be aware of what to look for to find one.”
“Are you worried about the man selling your cuff?” There weren’t many in the world like it. Whatever merchant he sold it to would certainly realize who it belonged to.
“I’m planning on it. The buyer will take it to Baldair, likely gleeful to win a favor, maybe even one which shows the Fallen Lord has returned to his old ways of noble killing.” Jax reached his hands up, letting down his bun. “But then, Baldair will know I’m with you. That’s the only real explanation. He’ll know I’m keeping you safe.”
“Keeping me safe?” Vhalla asked.
“Baldair gave the guard an order before we left Soricium. That we were to be the ones to find you, and when we did, we were to protect you at all costs. I found you by luck, but that’s why I was looking.”
Vhalla sunk onto the bed, too tired and confused to care about the dank smell that assaulted her nose. “Why?”
“Because he said he considers you his sister.”
Her hand shot up to her necklace, clutching the watch tightly. What did that mean?
“Craig went South, Erion went to Norin, Raylynn stayed with Baldair, and Daniel went East, to try to find you.”
“How is Daniel?” she asked softly.
“Oh, Baldair put quite the fire under him.” Jax chuckled, sitting next to her, his back against the wall. “He felt nothing but guilt for being the last person you spoke to and for letting you go. He agreed with the prince that by not insisting he accompany you for your protection that he let down his honor as a man and a noble.”
Vhalla rolled her eyes. Jax laughed, which she gave him a look for.
“You aren’t the type of woman who wants that man’s man nonsense.” Jax reached out and took her hand, almost contrary to his statement. But the touch was purely chaste as he began to inspect the superficial cut on her arm. “And even if you did, you already know what you want, don’t you?”
“What I want . . .” Vhalla whispered. She shook the thoughts of Aldrik from her head, her hand falling onto the axe sheathe. Jax’s eyes followed the motion, considering it for a long moment, but said nothing as Vhalla continued. “I want to make the Knights pay. I want to know what they have and make sure they know a new Burning Times will not begin with me.”
“Very well. How do we do that?”
They launched into brainstorming a plan, which continued on and off over the next few days.
Jax confirmed that the princes were going to be involved in a formal gathering for the Lords and Ladies of the Western Court.
Vhalla remembered what Lord Ophain said and immediately began thinking. “All the lords and ladies will be there, right?”
“They should be.” Jax nodded. “They wouldn’t miss a chance to lie through powdered lips.”
Vhalla snorted. “I think we should hit then.”
“But who?”
“Major Schnurr,” Vhalla replied without hesitation. She didn’t know if he was the highest mastermind, but he had created enough problems and given enough orders that Vhalla was forced to assume he was at least someone important.
“Major Schnurr then,” Jax affirmed, a little too eager. “He lives on the far southern end of town.”
Waiting stretched the next two days into eternity. In their limited conversations, Jax never asked about the leather holster always buttoned and strapped tight against her leg. Vhalla thought about telling him, but she didn’t want to make her friend any more nervous and lose his help. She was, however, careful not to touch or interact with him on a physical level more than necessary. Vhalla remembered Jax cautioning Aldrik once about touching her when she was under the influence of crystals. Her friend didn’t seem to mind the lack of contact.
On the night of the event, the whole Crossroads glittered gleefully. Men and women paraded around in their best clothes, admiring and hoping to be admired. Though only the nobles were invited to the Imperial party at the royal hotel, it seemed everyone wanted to be involved in the revelries. From what Vhalla knew of the Crossroads, within an hour it would be nothing but drinking and dancing.
An alcoholic haze suited her goals for the evening. She wanted people to have blurred senses and relaxed postures. Vhalla had dirtied her cloak to the point that the blood was no longer recognizable and the stench it held from that dirtying process prompted people to turn up their noses and walk away as quickly as possible. No one wanted to pay attention to her or her companion.
“You smell like shit,” Jax mumbled.
“I worked with what I had. And it’s working well.”
“Yeah, you’re the Crossroads’ last candidate for a Lady of the Court right now,” Jax teased.
Vhalla looked around nervously, but no one seemed to register his comment.
They walked against the flow of people, as most were heading to the center of the Crossroads. Vhalla and Jax continued down the southern road to a large estate. Giant walls framed it in, a single iron portcullis its only entry. They made two laps before stopping on a side street.
“Well, it appears no one is home,” Jax mused into the quiet. “Isn’t it nice he sent out his servants as well?”