“That can be arranged,” he teased, though his face made it clear he was seriously considering it.
I almost breathed out with relief. We were in more familiar waters now, the ones with the port called “compromise,” and we steered away from the whirlpool of an argument or worse.
“I promise I’ll be careful,” I said. “But if we don’t find whoever is planning those attacks, no one will ever be safe, and at some point either mythborn or humanborn will snap.”
“I know.” He let out a heavy sigh. “At least let me get you an escort back home.”
I resisted rolling my eyes, because this was the moment when we arrived to the safe, though quite uncomfortable, haven of compromise. I wasn’t happy with a Trinitian accompanying me home, for all the residents of the Liberties to be reminded of my affiliati
