4. Familiar Faces

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Fenrys had forgotten how warm it was in Wendlyn. After adjusting to the cooler climate of Terrasen, the heat was affecting him more than normal. He found himself uncomfortably hot and sweating. The temptation to shift into his wolf was increasing with every minute. His fur would attract more heat, but panting would help, and at least he wouldn't have to deal with sweat.

The scent of it was overwhelming as they ventured into the port city of Aklease. Vaughan was in the lead. One of his spies had agreed to meet with them and give them Nascha's current location. Once they found her, Lysandra would approach and try to lure her to the ship. They would do their best not to let Nascha know where they were from, or what their business with her was, but that part of the plan was flexible.

Fenrys kept one hand on the hilt of his sword, aware of the wary looks that followed them through the streets. "It seems the people of Wendlyn haven't forgotten you," Aedion murmured.

"That could prove good or bad," Lorcan replied. "Good if they remember what we're capable of and choose not to engage us. Bad if they think we're now vulnerable because Maeve is dead and choose to attack."

"I don't think they'll hurt us," Fenrys said. "Wendlyn is ruled by Glaston Ashryver, Aelin's uncle." He glanced at Aedion. "And yours. Attacking us means attacking members of Aelin's Court and Glaston's family. I doubt he'd take very kindly to that."

They fell silent as they reached a vacant alleyway. Vaughan gave a shrill whistle, reminiscent of his osprey cry. Seconds passed before a figure, clad in black, leaped off a roof and landed before them.

The Human man began speaking in a language Fenrys didn't understand. Vaughan, however, did. "She's in a tavern two blocks from here," he translated. He tossed a few coins to the man and they set off once more.

Fenrys and Aedion fell in step with Lysandra. "Do you have your story ready?" Aedion asked.

"I'm a frail young woman looking for someone to escort me safely to a ship so I can return home to Adarlan," Lysandra recited.

"And your disguise?"

Long brown hair became dirty blonde and shrank to her shoulders as she shifted. Emerald green eyes turned to muddy brown. Lysandra's proud nose grew more rounded and her cheeks hollowed. Her breasts became practically nonexistent. Fenrys averted his gaze with a laugh as Aedion gave a warning growl.

"Is this adequate?" Lysandra asked. Her new appearance, complete with a set of ragged clothes she'd swiped off the ship, made her look like some poor wretch.

"Perfect," Fenrys and Aedion answered in unison.

Vaughan held up a fist and pointed to a tavern just up ahead. Lysandra narrowed her eyes, scanning the people visible through a large window. "She has red hair and brown eyes," Vaughan said. "Her Fae features should help you identify her."

"Does she have any particularly defining traits?" Lysandra asked.

"None that my spies have mentioned."

"Great." Lysandra crossed her arms and started across the street, leaving them to watch from the shadows.

◦ ~ ❘ ☼ ❘ ~ ◦

Nascha lounged in a booth near the back of the tavern, her feet kicked up on the table. The heat of Wendlyn was making her left leg act up. This always happened when the weather was unusually hot or cold. The steady ache made it difficult to walk without limping, and she couldn't afford to show any weakness in this town.

Aklease was one of Wendlyn's less desirable port cities. The sailors who docked there were often pirates, or merchants who dealt in live cargo. It seemed that despite Glaston Ashryver's efforts, and the presence of Galan Ashryver's armada, the slavery business was still holding strong.

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