Lore tensed when they reached the doors into the back gardens—the ones they’d gone through this morning to reach the North Sanctuary—but the guards barely reacted to Bastian’s presence, and said nothing when he opened the doors to the chill of midnight.
It appeared the Citadel guards were used to the Sun Prince coming and going at all hours. The knowledge did nothing to soothe Lore’s nerves.
Bastian led them silently through the gardens, walking over grass instead of on the cobblestone. They went the opposite direction Lore had wandered earlier, but still ended up in another false forest with manicured paths. A breeze riffled through the trees, spinning green needles and the scent of pine. An Auverrani summer was scorching in the day, but surprisingly cool at night.
Gabe stopped, planted his feet. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere interesting,” Bastian answered. His hands were in his pockets, his stride almost jaunty. “It will make a great tale for August, since he’s apparently so interested in what I’m doing with my free time. And you both need a bit of fun.”
“What if we don’t want it?” Lore asked.
The prince grinned. He stepped up to her with fluid grace, the night air lifting his dark curls, wafting the scent of red wine and expensive cologne. “I think,” he said softly, “that it’s exactly what you want, Lore. And you strike me as the kind of woman who doesn’t waste time denying the things she wants.”
She’d spent a lifetime denying what she wanted, denying who and what she was. “You don’t know me at all.”
He was too close. So was Gabe, glowering behind her. She felt trapped between the two of them, too warm, too charged, too much.
Bastian’s feral grin widened. “I will, though.”
And that felt too true, somehow, true in a way that made no sense. It plucked at Lore’s chest, made thrumming harp strings of her ribs. The air around the three of them seemed momentarily thicker, as if they’d created their own atmosphere.
Gabe stepped away, out of the pull of their collective gravity, the wind ruffling at his short hair. He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin, stretching the scant few inches he had on the prince for all they were worth. “If we go with you, you’ll get us into the vaults?”
“Of course, old friend.” Bastian turned and started walking again. The wall of the Church dividing the Citadel from the rest of Dellaire loomed out of the dark, casting deep shadows. “I’ll get you into the vaults, you’ll tell me what exactly my father is up to. A win for everyone.”
Another darted glance between Gabe and Lore, another attempt at communicating without words. They weren’t very good at it. Gabe’s glare didn’t tell her anything other than that he was angry enough to kick a hole through one of these perfectly manicured trees, and Lore’s shrug, meant to convey acceptance, only made his jaw clench harder.
A small culvert covered by an iron grate was set into the base of the wall, nearly impossible to see until they were right on it, but big enough for a grown man to climb through. Bastian bent, producing an iron pick from his boot and wiggling it into the lock. It came undone easily, falling to the grass with a soft clunk.
“But before all that,” Bastian announced, lifting aside the iron grate and setting it carefully against the wall. “The two of you could use an adventure.” He ducked into the small tunnel, gesturing for them to follow, and was gone with a slight splash that made Lore wince.
Another fucking tunnel. And this one had water.
“He’s playing with us,” Gabe muttered, barely above a whisper. The heat of him was a beacon against the night air. “This will probably end in both of us bleeding out in an alley after we tell him August’s plans.”
“I think you can take him, if it comes down to that.”
“While I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t see that it helps us.”
“And I don’t see a way around it.” Lore ducked down toward the grate, but Gabe’s hand vised around her arm.
She looked up at him, scowling. “What exactly do you think he’ll do if we don’t march to his orders, Gabriel? Just shrug and let us continue on our merry way? Unless you want a one-way ticket to the Isles in less than an hour, we’re following the damn Sun Prince into the gutter.”
They glared at each other for a moment before Gabe let her go, hand flexing outward exaggeratedly. It made the candle inked on his palm stretch to odd proportions. “Fine.”