CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 80

I hurried to Graysen's side and asked eagerly, "The Purveyor of Rarities?"

"That's what I'm thinking," he murmured, staring toward the arched entrance leading to the restrooms. He latched a hand around the strap of the canvas backpack hanging off his shoulder and jutted his chin toward the yawning mouth of the corridor. "Come on, let's go."

Hungry for the hunt, Graysen and I hastily made our way to the restrooms, threading through the waves of milling patrons. In the edge of my vision, the closest team of bodyguards was obstructed by a sudden swell of laughing children skipping behind a trio of performers dressed up as animals. A long-eared hare played a boisterous melody on a wooden pipe, while the basset hound juggled colorful skittles. An eruption of ear-piercing squeals shattered the market as the sharp-eyed fox tossed a handful of wrapped treats into the air.

Graysen and I strode beneath the massive archway and entered the restroom's corridor. Gauzy light filtered downward from fat bulbs tucked into recesses. The enclosed space was dimmer, and the loud noise of footfall and chatter clattered all around us. As I walked beside Graysen, my gaze crawled over the speckled stone walls carved into a swirl of dragonflies flitting between the reeds of tall grasses, before lifting upwards to the flock of small birds darting across the ceiling as if it were the sky.

Up and down the corridor, a steady stream of people flowed back and forth like a lazy river. Everyone gave way to Graysen as he strode with arrogant purpose and barely concealed menace. Fine lines edged out from his narrowed eyes and his lips were pressed firmly together as he concentrated on his senses. One hand gripped the shopping bags swinging by his side, but I noticed what he was doing with his free hand. He'd dropped it to his side and was swiveling his wrist slowly back and forth as if his fingers were dipped into a pond and stirred the surface of water.

My footsteps were a flurry as I hastened to keep up with his quick march. "What is it?" What was he detecting? Feeling?

He blinked, jolted out of his hunt. Glancing down at me, he slowed his pace and dragged his bottom lip into his mouth as he mulled over how to explain it. "It's like a faint rattle I can feel beneath my feet. A tremor in the air. It's growing stronger the deeper we walk."

My eyes widened. I felt nothing of the sort.

A deep crease furrowed his forehead at my bewilderment. "You don't feel anything?"

I shook my head, my hair fluttering around my shoulders and caressing my upper arms with butterfly kisses. I threw up a hand in a useless gesture. "Maybe. I don't know." There was something here, a cool sensation prickling my skin, but it could simply be the weak blast of air seeping from the vents in the ceiling above us.

His gaze sliced to the scarf twisted around my neck as we walked, and I had the same thought. "Maybe this is stopping me," I said, flicking my hair to the side so I could tap the rough cord of rope hidden beneath the silk of the scarf.