I glanced back at Ryan, who had a concerned look on his face, brow furrowed. “Can I tell you a secret?” I asked Caleb.
He nodded, eyes wide.
“I’m not exactly fancy,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “In fact, I came from the slums.”
“Y-you did?” he asked, sounding awed.
“I did.”
“As did I,” Ryan said, taking a step forward.
I thought it quite possible that Caleb was going into shock. “B-b-b-but—”
“You aren’t always where you come from,” Ryan said. “It’s about the path you choose for yourself.”
What a sap. I loved the royal shit out of him.
“Exactly,” I said, already planning on finger-blasting the fuck out of Ryan once we got back to the castle.
He smirked at me as if he knew what I was thinking.
Bastard probably did.
“O-okay,” Caleb said, sounding as if he were gathering his courage. “Okay. L-let’s go inside and—”
He scurried forward, up the stairs, faster than I would have expected him to be able to move. The door was unlocked, and he pushed it open. It creaked on its hinges, and there was nothing that came from the house. No magic, no warnings, nothing. We weren’t stupid, not with everything that had happened. Ryan’s hand was on the hilt of his sword, and I breathed in long and slow, but there was nothing. It was just a house.
I smiled at Ryan. “Ready?”
He nodded. “Let’s go make a little girl’s day.”
And we followed Caleb up the stairs and through the door.
We stood in an entryway, the wooden floor creaking underneath our feet. Off to the left was a large room with dirty windows letting in weak sunlight. There were wooden chairs scattered about and a chest of drawers against the far wall. A stone fireplace took up the other end of the room, the interior blackened with ash and soot.
Farther down the hallway appeared to be a kitchen of sorts, and off to the right were three doors, two of which I thought led to bedrooms, the third probably to the bathroom.
Candles were lit and lining the hallway, casting a sickly yellow glow and creating shadows in the dusty corners.
The hairs on the bac
k of my neck stood on end.
Caleb shut the door behind us.
We turned to face him.
“Parents home?” I asked as he reached up and locked the door with a heavy finality.
He shook his head.
“Just your sister.”
He sighed, rolling his shoulders as if ridding himself of the tension. When he looked back up at us, there was a strange glint to his eyes. I frowned at him as Ryan gripped the hilt of his sword.
Caleb leaned back against the door, eyeing Ryan and me coolly. When he spoke, gone were the nerves and the stutter. His voice was smooth and melodic, almost like liquid smoke. “I honestly didn’t expect this to work.”
I groaned. “Gods. There is no sister, is there?”