Lux [h.s]

fifty-nine

Cora hid behind a wall as the guards walked past her, her eyes wide.

The crow. Ives was the crow? It made little to no sense. And she'd asked Raven, and he'd told her the truth, and he was supposed to be the crow, not Ives.

He'd lied to her. They'd both lied to her. She clenched her fists. Who did they take her for? Did they think her nothing more than a naïve girl they could play with left and right? Harry preferred to keep her sheltered, Ives was a liar. Raven was an even bigger one, but oddly enough, that one stung the least. She'd never expected much from him in the first place. From Ives, though...

There was a weight on her chest, and she was surprised to find tears welling in her eyes—angry ones, that burned on their path down her cheeks. She cleaned them up with the tips of her fingers, holding her hitching breath when a royal guard came a little too close to her hiding place.

That was dangerous.

She couldn't let it get the best of her while she was in enemy's territory. She pulled herself together, pulled her hood up and walked into a side street, drying her hands on the cool fabric of the cloak—or the coat. She wasn't quite sure which category that cloth fell into anymore.

Her mind was still spinning from everything she'd witnessed, but she forced herself to push it all to the back of her mind, where it wouldn't interfere with what she was set out to do.

Since she was wearing clothes so noticeable, she had to abandon all hopes of going around stealthily and walked down the street with her back straight, trying to mimic the assurance she often saw in Ives's step and keep her face hidden at the same time. It wasn't an easy feat, and she kept glancing around to make sure no one from any of the Orders was near.

She hadn't crossed paths with Harry in the woods, but she already knew where he was directed—she'd seen the duke's mansion when she'd witnessed Soren's arrival. She could find her way back to it on her own.

The evening sky was now a deep, rich shade of blue, and the moon was shining above her head. The light of every candle on the street shone on the golden of her clothes, and everyone she came across looked at her warily, or curiously, and moved out of her way. She considered ditching the cloak, but it was the only thing she could use to hide her identity, and she still didn't trust herself enough to show her face around knowing Soren was after her—for some inexplicable reason. She didn't have anything he might be interested in.

But even though it was the best way to hide in plain sight, it still made her a target—just to different people. She wasn't familiar with the Orders—her only contact with them had been through Ives, and he'd been sure to keep his secrets. She needed an alternative route, something that would keep her safer, while allowing her to keep an eye on the streets.

She paused in the shadows and weighed her options under the starry night, a smile curving her lips when a sudden memory struck her.

"We shall be like cats tonight."

Of course, she thought. Harry would never risk walking the streets, if he could do something else instead. She still remembered the nonchalance with which he'd taken her on the roof of the Altair Hall tower, back in Beilyn—as if it was something he did every day.

And he probably did.

She quickened her pace, and soon she found the perfect building—a hostel of some kind, a muddier twin to the one she'd been running with her aunt before Harry stepped into her life. It had three floors and balconies, and she glanced at it hopefully.

She stepped inside and went straight for the stairs, ignoring the curious looks the patrons gave her. She'd spent enough time around places like it to know that if she acted like she knew where she was going, nobody would bother her.