“Not in the sense you’re thinking. The danger is to a way of life, rather than a life itself. Our existence here is tolerated only so long as we stay quiet and small. When markets grow and gain more power, that’s when the military comes in and wipes it all clean. It has happened before, and it will happen again.”
“But none of these things are a threat to Stormlings. We still need them to protect the city. It’s not as if we’re trying to take away their magic. There is room for both in this world.”
The old man smoothed down his beard and surveyed her. “Maybe you’ll be the one to change the way the world works.”
“Me? But I can’t…”
“Locke couldn’t once upon a time. Now he can bring down firestorms and hurricanes.”
Her mouth went dry, and her skin buzzed with a restless something. There had been several scenarios in the back of her mind when she made the decision to come back here. She hoped she might discover more about Cassius’s plans or that the market sold some perfect magic object that would allow her to take the crown without Stormling powers. But one scenario had beat at her mind all day, even when she tried to pretend it was not an option. She could join these hunters and come back home having earned the magic in her blood.
Aurora thought about Nova, afraid to even discuss the Eye’s existence. She thought about the crammed, ramshackle homes she’d passed that people had no choice but to live in if they wanted the safety that Pavan provided. She thought about every time she’d ever heard of some traveling party that disappeared, lost to the dangers of the wildlands. Maybe she could do something. With magic of her own, she would gain the crown. Not Cassius. Not a husband. And then maybe she could change everything for the better.
No more treason or banishment. No need to sell the magic in secret. She thought of her favorite book again. She had no boat to brave the sea, no skills as a sailor, but perhaps she could have a similar voyage of her own. If they could not sail away to some better land, then the only choice was to make this land better.
A hand slipped over her shoulder, large and rough, and a low voice stole past the covering of her hood. “You came back.”
Rora’s body tightened. She slipped his hold and faced Locke head-on. His long hair was tied back from his face. He wore dark leather pants and a linen shirt that left his neck bare. He was strapped into the same leather harness as before, vials hanging off the straps. There were powders in various colors. Some of the larger vessels held raw magic—a thunderstorm, a thick fog, and a swirling, white-gray magic that she guessed was wind. He cleared his throat, and she dragged her gaze away.
He was even more criminally handsome than she remembered. Masculine and rugged. It wasn’t hard to picture him right in the middle of a firestorm, expression fierce and unafraid. Everything she desperately wanted to be. And if her imagination happened to paint him shirtless in that vision … well, who could blame her?
“Wait here a moment,” he said, “then we can go to the tent and discuss what I can do to help.”
Rora shifted her gaze away from him. “Actually, I’m not here for your help.”
She had made her decision. It wasn’t just about her distrust of Cassius or her yearning for freedom anymore. All her life she had been raised to believe that the kingdom came first. And what was a kingdom if not its people? She wanted to rule, wanted to help and change things, not just for herself but for them all.
Locke’s eyebrows flattened to a straight line. “Oh? Then why are you here?”
She turned to Duke. One side of the old man’s mouth tipped up, and she said, “I want to join your crew.”
*
“No. Absolutely not.”
Roar spun to glare at Locke, and it was a fierce and glorious glare indeed. If he were a different kind of man, he might have backed down. But that was not something he did. Ever. Call it a lesson of surviving childhood on the streets. He had not known much about dignity then, but he fought for what little he had at every turn. Even when his back was against the wall, even when the odds were impossible, even when he knew the reprieve would be far too short until he had to do it all again. He stood his ground. Always.
“Why not?” Roar demanded.
He had thought about her more today than he cared to admit, wondering what kind of home, if any, she had gone back to. But anything in this city would be safer for her than life in the wildlands.
“People die doing what we do. Do you want to die, little girl?”
Her fists balled at her hips, and she raised her chin defiantly.
“So now I’m a little girl again?”
Scorch it. Wrong thing to say. But he was too furious to do anything but double down.
“Yes. A na?ve little girl.”
“I’m not na?ve. I know exactly what I’m asking.”
She lifted a hand to her chest, grasping something beneath the fabric of her cloak. “I know very well what can happen. That’s why I want to learn from Duke. After all, he’s been hunting storms for decades. Maybe he should decide whether or not I have the potential.”
Duke brushed a strand of white-gray hair off his forehead, and leveled them both with a serious expression. His eyes lingered on Locke longer, and it was plain Duke was considering it. For a man hardened by a lifetime of destruction and peril, he had a dangerously soft heart.
Locke said, “We have enough people on the team. She’ll just be a liability.”
Roar winced, and Locke felt it like a blade slicing across his gut.
“What happened to wanting to help me?” she asked. “Did you decide insulting me was more fun?”
The last thing he wanted to do was insult her, but the girl wouldn’t listen. She appeared determined to make exactly the wrong choices, and he wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she saw sense. This was why he never associated with anyone but other hunters. They, at least, understood the dangers; and if they got themselves killed, it wasn’t Locke’s problem. But this girl, she would be his problem. He could not do what he did while tied to other people. One death on his conscience was enough.
He said, “I meant I would help you find a job or a place to stay. If you want to be involved so badly, Duke can teach you to run the booth here in our absence.”
She and Duke replied at the same time.
“I don’t want to run the booth.”
“That won’t do.”
Locke ran a hand through his hair, messing up the way he’d tied it back. “Why the blazes not?”
His responding growl had been for both of them, but it was Duke who answered. “The inventory we have now would last a fortnight at most. We won’t be back in this area for months. A job won’t be much help to her if it’s only temporary.”
Roar was looking at Locke with smug rebellion, and even as he wanted to shake her, he envisioned ways that he could wipe that pretty smirk from her mouth.
“So we introduce her to one of the permanent vendors. One of them has to need help.”
Roar shook her head. “No. I can’t stay here. I need to leave with you all. As soon as possible.”