The Singer
Page 83

“Max and Leo are here, too?”
He nodded. “Max keeps a flat here in the city. Which no one knew about. Get him out of Istanbul and he’s quite the man of mystery. I suppose we know part of where he goes when he leaves town. We just assumed it was Monte Carlo or Las Vegas.”
She smiled. Somehow, it wasn’t all that surprising. “And Leo?”
He hesitated. “Out patrolling right now. Helping the scribes here. There’s been an unexpected influx of Grigori and no one knows why.”
Ava’s eyes narrowed, and she opened her mind to listen to his inner voice. Rhys was lying. But why? What was Leo actually doing, if not patrolling?
“Good of him to help out. I heard about the Grigori. I mean, we didn’t get all that much news in Sarihöfn, but once we got here, everyone was buzzing.”
He didn’t say anything, just continued watching her with those solemn green eyes.
“What’s going on, Ava?”
How could he even tell?
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re different. Something is different.”
“I’m tired, Rhys. It’s been a crowded few months. Everything in Turkey… and now I’ve had to run from the one place everyone told me I was totally safe. I’m… tired.”
She was tired. No, more. She was weary. Weary of running. Weary of struggling through a world she didn’t know anymore. Weary of having tasted happiness only to have it violently yanked away.
“Don’t give up on us yet, Ava.” His voice was so soft, his words so poignant, it was almost as if he could read her mind. “There are things you haven’t seen yet.”
“Rhys, I…” She felt her throat closing up, and her eyes started to tear.
Why was he still there? Why couldn’t they all just leave her alone? Didn’t they understand she didn’t want to be protected anymore? The grief was too much. The pain was exhausting. Her whole life… “I’m just really, really tired, Rhys. Can you let me sleep?”
“Sweet dreams, Ava?”
She blinked away the tears and looked up in shock. “What?”
He cleared his throat. “Have you been having good dreams? No nightmares, I hope.”
“They’re fine.” Or they had been until she’d forced herself to remember she couldn’t live in a dream world anymore. “I don’t remember my dreams much, to be honest. Never have.”
Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying. About having good dreams or about remembering them, Ava? Hmm?”
“Why are you still here?” Anger spiked through her sadness. “You can leave now.”
“Fine.” He stood, his eyes never leaving hers. “Get dressed. Get washed up. I’ll meet you downstairs. We have someplace to go.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
He rolled his eyes before he turned. When he got to the door, Rhys called over his shoulder. “Don’t create a scene, darling. Wouldn’t you rather keep a low profile before you try to sneak off?”
Bastard scribe. He always saw too much.
Ava decided to act like the interlude in her bedroom hadn’t even happened when she finally made her way downstairs. Rhys was at the counter, speaking with Orsala. It sounded like they were debating the interpretation of some story or myth.
“But the St. Petersburg manuscript—”
“Manuscripts?” Orsala said. “Manuscripts are always influenced by the scribe. There is no avoiding it. What you must look for is the common thread running through all the historical accounts. That is where the truth lies.”
Rhys shook his head. “I… I can’t believe you’re discounting the oldest known account of Deandra’s vision. Carbon dating has placed that manuscript within a hundred years of her life. No other existing document comes close.”
“But that is only one document. You must look at more than just the documents, Rhys. You must—”
“This sounds like an argument that can’t be won,” Ava said with a false smile. “Hey, Orsala. I see you met Rhys.”
She smiled until her eyes creased. “Such fun to debate with a knowledgeable partner. I met Rhys’s mother many years ago. She would be proud of his good mind.”
Ava saw the blush at Rhys’s neck, but she ignored it and said, “I heard we have some place to go?”
He nodded and finished the cup of coffee in front of him. “Sari and Damien are over at Max’s house. During the day, the Grigori activity seems to be slow. I thought we’d head over for lunch.”
“Sure. Why not? Orsala, you want to come?”
“I have something to speak to Lang about when he wakes, then I believe I will spend some time with Brooke and Candace.” She smiled and patted Rhys’s shoulder. “Conversation with the young is a joy to the old.”
“Okay.” She nodded toward the door. “I’m ready when you are.”
He stood and grabbed a jacket that was lying over the back of a chair. They walked to the door and Rhys grabbed her hand, bending down to speak quietly in her ear.
“I’m sorry about before. In your room. Your dreams are none of my business, Ava.”
She didn’t want to think about her dreams. Or his apology. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. We all grieve in our own way. I just hope… I hope you’ll be better soon.”