Nothing.
He circled the hill, taking his time as he watched for a hint of Teague’s spies. Never mind that in all the months Sebastian had been visiting his brother’s grave he’d never once seen any of Teague’s people here.
Being cautious was the only way to keep Cleo out of danger.
When he was satisfied that the cemetery was safe, he tied his horse to the fence and began climbing the hill.
Five hundred fifty-nine stairs. Ninety-eight gravestones to the right, just past the olive tree. Sebastian climbed quickly, his scars itching at the way his back was exposed to the road.
There were a few visitors scattered throughout the rows of graves, but no one who gave Sebastian cause for worry.
Reaching Parrish’s grave, he crouched beside it and brushed grit from its surface. The summer sun warmed his back, and seabirds shrieked overhead as he sat in silence beside his brother.
The last time he’d visited, he’d been proud of his new job at the palace. Full of plans to save up his coin and get away from Kosim Thalas. Away from Father.
Now, he was working for the man who’d ordered Parrish’s death, and some days he could no longer tell the difference between how he did his job and how his father would’ve done it. He’d accessed the ruthless, rage-driven part of himself because it was the only way to survive the streets he walked. The only way to keep hunting down debtors while fending off attack after attack from those who hoped to kill him and convince Teague to give them the job instead.
He wasn’t sure Parrish would understand any of those choices.
The branches of the olive tree beside him creaked in the sea breeze, and Sebastian turned to scan the hillside.
No sign of Cleo yet. No sign of threats, either.
His brother’s gravestone sat beside him, silently accusing him of becoming someone he no longer recognized. Someone who would break a promise to his brother to save himself from having to confront their father—to keep himself safe from the darkness of the life he’d left behind—but who would then dive back into that darkness because of a girl.
Not just a girl. Because of Ari and the way she smiled when he entered a room. The way she’d insisted on treating him like an equal until he was dangerously close to believing it. Because she was comfortable with his silences and careful to give him the space to breathe.
Because Sebastian didn’t want to live in a world without Ari in it.
He traced his brother’s name and said quietly, “I’m in over my head, Parrish. You’re going to think it’s stupid, and maybe you’re going to be mad because things have changed. I’ve changed.”
Sitting back on his haunches, he watched a carriage pull to a stop beside the cemetery’s entrance. A petite girl with dark curly hair and a tall boy wrapped in a plain gray stableboy’s cloak with its hood up disembarked and entered the gate. The boy carried a sack in his hands.
Dread coiled in Sebastian’s chest. He’d told Cleo to come alone. He had no way of knowing which of the king’s new employees were loyal to Teague, and it was imperative that Teague never learn of Cleo’s involvement. Now here she was, about to meet with Teague’s top collector and hand over the only poison known to affect the fae, and she was walking up the steps with a stableboy.
No, not a stableboy. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he took in the way the boy moved up the steps with the sort of confident sense of ownership that comes to those who are born knowing they have more privileges than the rest of the world.
Stars help him, Cleo hadn’t brought a stableboy. She’d brought the king. The one other person who absolutely couldn’t be seen talking to Sebastian.
A headache throbbed behind his eyes, and he pressed his fingers to his forehead for a moment.
There were only four other people on the hillside, all over the age of sixty. None of them were paying attention to the pair climbing the stairs. It was going to be all right. It had to be.
As Cleo and the king reached the terrace that held Parrish’s grave, Sebastian stood and moved to the olive tree. When the pair reached him, he motioned toward the windswept grass.
“Let’s sit. Draws less attention from the road and makes us look like we’re mourners here to visit a grave.”
They sat, and Sebastian took a moment to study the king. His eyes were weary, and his cheekbones stood out in sharp relief. Exhaustion had left dark smudges beneath his eyes. His fingers clutched the sack he carried as if it contained the most important thing in the world to him, but Sebastian knew the truth. The most important thing in the world to the king was trapped in Teague’s villa, and living with the strain of that was destroying him.
“I told you to come alone,” Sebastian said—though he couldn’t find any anger to fuel his words.
“I insisted.” The king’s voice was a shadow of its former self—muted by grief and guilt.
“If either of you are caught talking to me, it could mean your deaths. It could mean Ari’s death, so we’ll make this quick,” Sebastian said. “You brought the poison?”
Cleo nodded toward the sack. “It’s in there, along with the Book of the Fae.”
Sebastian’s brows rose. “I didn’t ask you to pick up the book. I was going to go get it right after this.”
“Well, now you don’t have to.” Cleo stared him down. “Besides, Rahel knows me. She didn’t hesitate to give me the book because she sees me with Ari all the time. How would you have explained your request to her without risking that either she wouldn’t give you the book or that she’d report your actions to Teague to try to gain his favor?”
He’d been wrestling with that problem himself all morning, but that didn’t stop the worry from spreading through him and sharpening his voice. “Never mind how I would’ve done it. I was trying to keep you from being seen by any of Teague’s employees.”
She sniffed. “I go to the market every week. So what if they see me doing some more shopping?”
“Do you always go shopping with the king dressed like a stableboy? Do you always ask for a book that we both know Teague would be furious about?”
“The king stayed in the carriage—”
“Did you go to other shops as well?”
“We didn’t have time,” Cleo said. “We were only there for a minute—”
“Exactly!” Sebastian’s voice frayed at the edges, and he fought to stay quiet. He couldn’t afford for his words to echo across the hillside. “You went into the market on a day when you usually wouldn’t, and instead of stopping at various shops like you usually do, you went to one specific shop, retrieved a package, and then left the market. If any of Teague’s employees noted that behavior, the shopkeeper is probably already on the way to Teague’s holding facility for questioning, and you are in deep trouble.”
He scanned the road below, taking his time, noting every shadow, every shape.