Perranth With You

8

The wind sang in Lorcan's ears as he walked along the rooftops of Perranth, trailing the carriage and its occupant.

He scaled the rooftops, leapt between buildings and kept to the shadows. He huffed in frustration when his hood kept blowing off his head.

How did Aelin manage?

He has been following this particular man since he was given that piece of information. The same night he got it he went out, and has every night since. He was always back before Elide woke though. He didn't need her worrying.

The carriage took a sharp turn right, and Lorcan groaned. He was on the opposite side of the road. Meaning he'd either have to jump to the right side or get down and follow on foot.

He scanned the road below.

Too many out walking, it would be difficult to explain a Fae jumping across roofs.

On foot it is.

He silently dropped from his perch and landed in the shadows of an ally. He held his hood up as he briskly, but casually, walked to where the carriage turned.

He stopped at the corner and checked the lane. No streetlight, it was in complete darkness.

He could hear the carriage rattling. It was further away than he'd like but he quickened his pace and soon was close enough to see the carriage come to a halt and watched the man climb out... not so gracefully.

He stumbled from the door and his foot caught on the step, causing him to fall flat on his face and the bottle in his hand got caught between him and the ground.

He stood up hastily, muttering profanities and stalked over to the coachman and his horse. He handed the coachman the money and continued to slap the horses ass, resulting in a screech from the animal and curses from the driver.

The man snickered to himself as he turned from watching the coaches escape and made his way to a black door framed in the grimy stone of the dark alleyway.

Lorcan could see the black around the mans nails as he reached for a key in his pocket and reached to unlock the door. He dropped it many times before successfully opening the door. The liquid from the glass bottle he fell on stained his clothes, making it look like he was seriously injured.

Might as well do it now, so...

---

THE MAN

The little shit gave me the wrong change...

"Fuck!"

The clang of the coins hitting various places echoes throughout the room.

I'm breathing heavily now, the room spinning slightly. Ha! That's what you get for downing multiple bottles in a row, you fucking buzzard.

I chuckle to myself as I sit down in my chair. I don't even spare the papers on the desk a glance as I unlock the drawer and pull out my trusty bottle of red.

Giving it a quick kiss I reach for the glass in front of me.

Mhm. Got a bit left in it from this morning... Oh, no wait, this is from last week. This mornings glass is on my bedside table.

Shrugging, I dump the sour contents in my mouth before refilling the glass. Sure, it's only a bit of mould.

Now, where are my nail clippers...?

Ah! Spotting them on the bookshelf behind me, I turn and grab them... resulting in me slipping me from my chair.

"Ah, you little fucker," I whisper to myself, rubbing the back of my head. Don't know how I did that but-