21

  Stealth

  It was dark, probably around midnight. The castle was just ahead, enclosed by towering walls, its massive gate closed and two guards posted on either side standing watch. Adam was sat at the edge of a nearby rooftop, the only one that had been climbable, wanting a better view of his target. He didn’t know who the building belonged to, but whoever it was had slept through his climb, maybe mistaking the noise for a cat. Adam had been there for more than three hours now at least, simply watching the castle, waiting.

  He hadn’t come with a plan to rush the gate as that would have woken up the entire castle, and with the exhaustion he felt sinking deep into his bones he’d be cut down long before he ever got near the King’s Hand. Instead, he waited for an opening, something boring and mundane, something like a late-night delivery. Food supplies or equipment, anything that required a wagon. He figured the guards would be too tired to do a proper search and he could slip in with that. A shift change might also work too, though that carried more risk.

  Still, if it came before a delivery, he was prepared to take it.

  Things would have been much simpler if his reservoir of dark energy wasn’t so depleted. Using shadow-warp, he would have been in and out already, leaving the Hand lying in a pool of his own blood before the thought of danger had even formed in his head. Or maybe not, to kill him that quickly would be mercy, and after what the man had done mercy was out of the question. Adam was here now, enduring exhaustion, sleeplessness, and the cold night air, all just to reach him.

  Whatever waited at the end of this would not be quick.

  But regardless, shadow-warp was off the table. Adam had told himself that he didn’t want to become overly reliant on magic, but possessing an ability as powerful and effective as that would make restraint a hundred times more difficult. Already, he was thinking of it as a quick solution to problems. He needed to be careful about that. And at the thought of powerful abilities, he pondered over what else was dormant inside him, what other powers waited undiscovered, and if they were as powerful as shadow-warp.

  Adam doubted that black flames, the barrier, and shadow-warp were the full extent of his powers. He didn’t know how he knew, but he felt a certainty deep in his gut that he hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of what he was truly capable of, not even close.

  The question was what it would cost to awaken them…

  Adam’s thoughts drifted far and wide as he continued to wait in the shadows, several of them pulling together all at once. He thought about Elsa. He’d forced himself not to dwell on her, to keep from worrying too much, but with nothing but time and silence it was hard for thoughts of her not to enter his mind. He wondered what she was facing out there right now. She hadn’t told him the details of the assignment she was sent on, and his mind began to race with dark possibilities. What mission could be so dangerous that the Hand believed she, a Gold-Rank knight, wouldn’t return from? Did dragons exist in this world? Or was it something worse? Maybe he would ask the man himself before he killed him.

  From there, Adam’s thoughts wandered to the inn, and what it would take to rebuild it. He had no money, and until this moment that had never truly bothered him, and he knew the reason. Ever since arriving in the world, he’d never allowed himself to get settled as he didn’t think he would be staying long. As long as there was a roof over his head and food in his stomach, he’d been content. But things were different now. He cared about some people in this world, and they cared about him. They’d shown him kindness and he had done nothing at all to repay it. He couldn’t continue relying on their handouts, he couldn’t keep sleeping in the inn’s stable… even that was gone now, burned away in the fire.

  He needed to do something to pay back their kindness. Even if he had no particular need for this world’s money, he shouldn’t forget that the people he cared about did, and if he could do something to make them happier or lighten their load he would try.

  For as long as he remained in this world, at least…

  Adam pondered over the future as he waited, clinging to the hope that once he killed the Hand of the King this whole chapter would finally be over and he could move on to other things. He was honestly tired of the whole abduction mess and the problems that had branched off from it, he just wanted it to be done. Of course, there were still possibilities to consider after he killed the King’s Hand. Julius could come looking for revenge, or Elliot could report him. Adam would deal with those problems if or when they came, but for now there was only one concern that mattered, and he wanted to end it tonight.

  An amusing thought crossed his mind then, of how the old him—the college student always buried in engineering textbooks—would think of what he was doing right now, crouched on a rooftop, waiting for a chance to slip into someone’s home and kill them. It was almost comical, and dark, too, how sharply his life had turned. Taking people’s lives had become normal to him. He didn’t even pause to think about it anymore. The seven men he’d killed in the alley a few hours ago barely surfaced in his thoughts, as though he’d done something completely mundane, like taking out the trash. Then again, he’d called the men pests and that was exactly what they had felt like to him. Each of the men had deserved their deaths, and he’d stopped worrying about his lack of remorse a while ago. But still, a question crept into his mind.

  Was he a good person? A decent one? Or an evil one?

  Killing in defense of your life or others was fair, it could even be argued that it was a natural instinct. Elsa had killed people too, and as a knight, the bodies that had dropped at her feet certainly exceeded his own. But he didn’t think she saw them as pests, and she would never want to take the lives of innocents. That was where he was different.

  Adam didn’t think he was good, or decent, or even evil anymore. None of the labels seemed to fit. People committed evil deeds because they could get away with it, or because there was something to gain from it, or simply because they enjoyed doing it. That wasn’t him. It felt as though he was operating by his own scale of judgment and morality now, not the world’s. The acts of violence he had committed hadn’t been about pleasure, cruelty, or chaos. It was simply a matter of necessity. Taking the lives of those seven men in the alley had been necessary, punishing and killing the Hand of the King was also necessary. That raised another question. If destroying this kingdom ever felt necessary, would he? There was not even the slightest hesitation in his mind. He would destroy it, or at least try. The thought had crossed his mind once before, and just like then, he didn’t consider the amount of lives that would be ruined. It was simply a matter of whether it would be necessary or not.

  Could he still be considered a human? Even if he wasn’t going around murdering and causing destruction right now, the lives of most people in this world still meant dirt to him. And wasn’t regard for others a core part of being human? Did it count if his regard extended only to a handful of people? Despite his fear of succumbing completely to the darkness inside him, he couldn’t help but wonder whether the fragment of humanity he wanted to preserve was even human at this point… he wasn’t sure.

  What seemed like another hour slipped by as he waited and his thoughts drifted, but the idea of calling it a night and postponing his plan until tomorrow never crossed Adam’s mind even once. Instead, he began to turn over alternative plans in his head. Should he just kill the guards and open the gate himself? No, he dismissed that idea. He needed to get into the castle discreetly, and leaving a trail of bodies was the exact opposite of discreet.

  But what else? What other option did he have at the moment?

  Just before Adam could start to curse his luck in this world again, he heard the faint creak of wheels drifting through the night and his head snapped up instantly. From the far end of the road leading up to the gate, a wagon emerged. It was large, fully closed, its wooden sides covered by a curved canvas roof. Two horses trudged forward at an unhurried pace, and the driver sat hunched at the reins, a cloak pulled tight around his shoulders. Several large crates were visible beneath the canvas flaps at the rear, more than enough to hide him if he snuck in.

  Adam felt relief settle in his chest. For once, luck was on his side.

  He rose to his feet and eased his cramped muscles back into motion, then he tracked the wagon as it approached the gate, thinking of how best to board it. He moved from the edge of the roof before the wagon reached the gate, landing as quietly as he could onto the smaller adjacent building, then to the alley below, being as quiet as he could. Timing was everything now. He let the wagon roll past him, then he kept pace from the shadows, never drawing too close to be seen, never lagging far enough to lose it.

  Adam watched the guards straighten and halt the wagon at the gate, then they slowly stepped forward. There was an exchange of words between one of the guards and the driver, while the other guard came around the back and climbed into the wagon to inspect the load. He’d thought the men might be too tired to do their jobs properly, but evidently he was wrong. He was glad he’d made the decision to wait before sneaking aboard.

  After a few minutes passed, the guard came down and returned to his partner. Adam saw his chance then, and he didn’t hesitate. Before the wagon moved again, he broke into a hurried jog and snuck into the back, slipping between two crates to hide himself. He heard a loud thud outside, followed by a heavy groan as the mechanism within the walls came to life, iron chains rattling, and the massive steel gate starting to lift. He felt the wagon lurch forward, and he pressed himself deeper into his hiding spot, his breath shallow, not wanting to be discovered now after he’d done the difficult part. The wagon moved for a while, then he heard the castle gate close behind it with another groan, sealing him inside.

  This was the point of no return. Adam peeked out from his hiding place as the castle interior opened up ahead, and he saw the courtyards, gardens, and the silhouettes of towers against the night sky. He’d only been here that one time with Elsa, he wasn’t sure he remembered his way around, but that wouldn’t be much of a problem. Somewhere inside those walls was the Hand of the King, and that knowledge alone was enough for him.

  Adam felt the wagon roll to a stop somewhere inside the castle grounds, and he heard a weary sigh as the driver stepped down. Not waiting for the man to come around the back and find him, he moved quickly, slipping out from between the crates and pressing himself into the nearest shadow between a stack of barrels and the stone wall.

  Adam straightened slowly and pulled the hood of his stolen cloak over his Head, then he looked out. The inner castle was quieter than he remembered, there were a lot of torches lit, but few patrols visible. Midnight had thinned the place out, leaving only the necessary guards and servants awake. Good. For once in this world, luck actually seemed to be on his side. Adam moved when the darkness favored him, crossing the courtyard with quick, cautious steps, keeping to the edges, his eyes constantly tracking windows, walkways, and corners.

  Exhaustion pulled at him and his heart pounded like a piston in his chest, whether from excitement or nerves, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t settle it. He felt like a spy. Even in his wildest dreams he could never have imagined this, yet here he was, sneaking through a castle at midnight, and he couldn’t say it didn’t make him feel dangerously alive.

  He reached an entrance he vaguely remembered from his visit with Elsa. Back then, he’d been distracted, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the whole place. Now, the memory sharpened in his mind. He pushed the door open just enough to slip through, then he closed it carefully behind him. Inside, the air was warmer and heavy with the scent of old stone and some kind of incense. Torches lined the corridors, and Adam moved without rushing, listening as he went. Footsteps echoed somewhere far off, but none were close. He exhaled quietly and continued to move, his eyes peeled for any unexpected trouble.

  At first, he navigated by instinct alone, turning corners without knowing why. Then after a while, certain turns began to feel familiar. He stopped guessing and followed that memory instead, past a stairwell, down a long hall, then up another flight. He slowed as he reached the inner section of the castle. He recognized this area from when Elsa had led him through that day, the Hand’s office should be just around the corner.

  Would the man still be there at this hour? If his memory served him correctly, there should be two guards at the door, he’d have to deal with them first, and silently, so as not to raise alarm. But it all depended if the man was there. It would be an annoyance if he was gone, cause that meant he’d have to search for him and risk being discovered sooner.

  Adam turned the corner and peeked out first, the Hand’s office came into view, but the guards who’d stood watch by the door the other day weren’t present. Did that mean the man was gone? Or something else? If there were any traps waiting, inside that room would be the moment they sprang. It was a sudden thought that surfaced, and he knew it was only fear taking taking root in his mind. Still, his heart pounded loudly against his ribs and his right hand drifted to grip the hilt of his blade. No one should know he’d be here, in the castle, at this hour… no one except Elliot perhaps. Only the knight knew he intended to kill the Hand of the King. Even if he didn’t know the plan, the information alone was enough, and if he’d leaked it somehow, then a trap wasn’t too far outside the realm of possibilities.

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  Adam shook his head to clear the thoughts away and told himself that it was just fear speaking. Elliot wasn’t one of the Hand’s people. Hell, he had even been a target to be eliminated, back in that warehouse. If Elsa hadn’t been there that night, it was likely he would have died. And just tonight, the man had saved people he cared about from certain death. He wouldn’t have done that if he was loyal to the Hand. But then… he didn’t need to be loyal to the Hand to inform him of a threat to his life. A knot tightened in Adam’s stomach as he recalled the knight’s words, the oath he’d sworn.

  Shit, he’d screwed up. He should have considered this earlier. He had only thought about Elliot possibly reporting him after it was done, not doing something before.

  Should he try to turn back? No, he dismissed that idea quickly. He had come too far to just turn back on what-ifs. He had to see this through to the end.

  He stepped out from the corner, crossed the open space, and reached the door. This was it. He stood there in the dim torchlight for a heartbeat, one hand hovering inches from the door, the other clenched tight to his sword. His breathing was steady, his thoughts eerily calm despite his racing heart. Then, after a final breath, he reached for the handle and pushed.

  The door swung inward with a soft creak and Adam saw the room beyond was dim, lit only by a small lamp set on the desk, with darkness clinging to the walls. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, careful not to let it slam. He advanced cautiously, his muscles taut with tension as his eyes adjusted to the dark. It didn’t take long for him to see what lay ahead and he stopped dead in his tracks, the tension in his muscles fading.

  The Hand of the King was already dead…

  The man sat slumped in his chair, his head hanging forward, chin resting on his chest. At first glance, he might have seemed merely asleep, but the dagger protruding out of his chest told a different story, it was buried to the hilt, just below the collarbone. Blood soaked his robes, still slowly seeping, dripping down onto the floor and forming a small pool.

  For a moment, Adam didn’t move, he just stared, dumbfounded. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. He had imagined this room countless times while waiting on that rooftop. He had imagined the man alive, afraid, defiant, pleading, raging. He had wanted to take his time, wanted the man to know exactly who was ending him, and why.

  Instead the bastard was already dead, fucking fantastic. What was all that effort he’d put into this for? He felt disappointment coil in his chest, and he forced it down.

  Silently, Adam crossed the room, approaching the body. He reached forward and tilted the Hand’s head by the hair; his eyes were still open, glassy, staring at nothing. There was no expression frozen on the man’s face, just an empty look. Adam let the head drop back and a trickle of blood slid from the corner of the dead man’s mouth to his chin. He stepped away from the body, looking around the room. There was no sign of a fight or struggle; chairs hadn’t been upturned and papers were still arranged neatly on the large desk. It was as though he’d been working and hadn’t expected the dagger that plunged into his chest, and seeing as blood still dripped, it couldn’t have happened too long ago. But the culprit was probably gone by now. What exactly had happened? Why? Were there others in the kingdom who wished the man dead besides him? That was possible, but who were they? Political enemies? Why tonight of all nights? And where the fuck were his guards? A host of questions raced through Adam’s mind, but none were answered.

  The King’s Hand was the second most powerful person in the kingdom, even if he had a lot of political enemies he wasn’t some random, easy to kill guy. Adam had factored that into his plans, and he’d been prepared to end the lives of one or two guards on his way to reach the man. But he hadn’t met even one obstacle on his way. Again, Adam wondered where the guards were. He knew at least two should have been outside the door, had they already been taken out? He hadn’t seen their bodies outside or any blood splatter. What the hell was going on? Was this an inside job? Considering the facts present—the absence of guards and the lack of struggle from the man—the idea didn’t seem far-fetched.

  But why would they betray the man they served? Was there something deeper at play here? Fuck. He’d been worried about stepping into a trap, but instead he’d stumbled onto a murder scene, and… wait, a murder scene? Was it just coincidence that he happened to be standing in the middle of it right now? Adam’s jaw tensed and a cold, sharp realization settled in his chest. He looked like the fucking culprit. Shit, was this some kind of plan? If he was found here, he would take the blame whether he had done it or not, and he couldn’t answer for a crime he hadn’t committed, even though he wished that he had. He needed to get out of here now. He would figure out the rest later, whether it was coincidence or some plan to frame him, it didn’t matter.

  He needed to leave right the fuck now.

  Adam had barely finished the thought when he heard footsteps coming from the corridor just outside. Shit, his fucking bad luck had returned. He should have guessed that something was lurking in the wings when things were going too smoothly earlier.

  Adam moved without thought. He crossed to the tall, arched window, pushed it open, and slipped out onto the narrow stone ledge that ran along the outer wall. The night air hit him like a cold slap as he pressed himself flat against the wall, his heart hammering, and pulled the window almost closed behind him. He’d never had a debilitating fear of height, but still he forced himself not to look down this time. The courtyard was at least seventy feet below, and he was hanging on by a narrow ledge slick with dew, one slip, one slight misstep, and he’d end up a broken heap on the stone. He would like to avoid a death like that.

  Inside, the door banged open and footsteps entered.

  “Lord Hand, your wife requests you—” The first guard’s voice died in his throat.

  A second voice, older, harsher. “By the Divine. He’s dead!”

  Adam heard the clatter of armor as more men rushed in, followed by the sharp rasp of steel as swords were drawn. Shit. Shit. Shit. How many were in the room now? Someone swore, and another lunged for the window, wrenching it open and peering out.

  Instinctively, Adam flattened himself tighter against the wall and his breath snagged in his throat. The guard didn’t see him, and a moment later, the window thudded shut again.

  The older voice barked again. “Sound the alarm! Now!”

  It didn’t take long after the order was given, only a few minutes perhaps, and a bell began to toll, rolling through the castle like thunder. Within seconds another bell joined it, then another. The sound swelled until it seemed like the very stones were vibrating.

  Adam didn’t wait to hear more. He edged along the ledge, keeping his eyes from the ground, then he reached the corner of the building and dropped quietly to the roof of a lower wing below. His boots made almost no sound on the slate tiles and he moved quickly, adrenaline pushing him, no longer caring to hide every step. The entire castle seemed to be waking up around him, torches flaring to life in windows, shouts echoing from courtyards, and the clank and jingle of armored men running into positions.

  They hadn’t seen him, but they believed the castle had been infiltrated, and a full lockdown was in progress. How would he get out now? His plan of escape after killing the Hand of the King had been to sneak out unnoticed the same way he’d slipped in, and if that wasn’t feasible for any reason, to blend in with the servants or guards. But those options were out the window. With security this heightened, no one was going anywhere without a proper check, and other servants would point him out even if he claimed he was new. Those options had only existed when things were dull and slow.

  What should he do now? Kill his way out? Take a hostage? Even if he wasn’t tired and his reservoir of dark energy wasn’t empty, those options still wouldn’t be sound, not unless he was ready to cast off this kingdom, and he wasn’t. Not yet.

  The bells were still tolling, and the castle grounds below were beginning to swarm with torchlight and shouting soldiers, many of them. Someone would spot him soon, he needed to get off the roofs, get inside again, somewhere quiet, somewhere they wouldn’t immediately look. He spotted a narrow balcony jutting from the wall below and without the slightest bit of hesitation he dropped onto it, landing in a crouch, then pressed himself against the cold stone wall. The balcony doors were closed but unlocked, and he pushed one open just enough to slip inside, his footsteps slow and eerily silent.

  The chamber he entered was dark, lit by the faint orange glow of dying candles and a large four-poster bed dominated the space, its bed curtains partly drawn.

  Someone was Under the covers, breathing slow and even.

  Adam froze just inside the doorway, every muscle coiled as his hands drifted low to the hilt of his sword again, his fingers curling tight. He watched the figure on the bed shift slightly and roll onto their side, the movement causing the blankets to slip down to their waist, revealing pale shoulders and long silver hair fanned across the pillow.

  It was a woman. For some reason, he hadn’t expected that.

  She was young, perhaps in her late twenties, her face beautiful even while asleep. The candle’s glow caught the delicate curve of her cheek, and highlighted her smooth pale skin. She wore a silk nightgown, one strap fallen off her shoulder. There was no weapon anywhere in sight, no sign she had heard the bells or the shouts echoing through the halls.

  Adam’s pulse thundered in his ears. He should leave… right now. She hadn’t seen him, so there was no reason to harm her. It wasn’t necessary. He began to turn away, but he barely took a step before a soft, almost musical voice stopped him in his tracks.

  “I could have sworn I shut those doors before I went to bed.”

  In one swift, instinctive motion, Adam drew his sword and spun toward the voice, surprise slamming into him like a physical blow when he found the white-haired woman sitting upright in bed, awake and watching him with like a hawk. Even in the dim light, he saw her eyes for the first time, deep violet like polished amethyst glowing softly and impossible to look away from. But he did, he dragged his eyes away from hers before it could pull him in completely, his mind spinning with questions. This wasn’t someone just waking from sleep, she had known he was in here from the start. Why had she been pretending to sleep? Who was she? And most importantly, why was she so calm?

  “I take it you’re the cause of the commotion outside,” she said.

  Okay, she wasn’t deaf. She knew something was happening in the castle. Even if she had been, he was a strange man standing in her room armed with a sword, and she wasn’t screaming her lungs out in panic. It made Adam pause and regard her closely, in no world was that normal. Outside, the bells were still ringing, louder now, and the pound of footsteps echoed down the corridor outside the chamber door. What now? Would she report? It didn’t seem like it, and if she tried, he’d have to kill her before she could.

  “Who are you?” Adam asked, still holding his sword to her.

  The woman’s lip lifted in a faint, amused smile. “It’s not very polite to barge into a lady’s room and demand her name,” she replied in that musical voice.

  “Being polite isn’t on my priority list right now,” Adam said and his voice turned dark with warning. “I won’t ask again, who are you?”

  Adam truly meant the threat. His muscles were coiled like a spring, hand wrapped tight around the hilt of his sword, his eyes locked on her, watching for even the slightest twitch of her muscles that seemed off. One wrong move, and her head would be rolling before she could say what. He didn’t know what made her so calm, so utterly unbothered, but whatever it was, he would end it before she had a chance to show him.

  The woman’s smile faded away at his threat, but there was still no hint of fear in her violet eyes. She just stared at him, holding his gaze for a while, as though she were studying every line of his face and etching it to memory. He had no idea what was going through her mind as she stared, her face revealed nothing, just a beautiful, calm mask.

  A sharp knock suddenly cracked through the room, cutting the tension.

  Adam’s sword lifted a fraction higher on instinct, the tip steady despite the flood of adrenaline coursing through his veins. His eyes flicked to the door, then back to her, she didn’t even look surprised by the interruption. What the fuck was up with this lady?

  “I have to answer that,” she told him in a calm, gentle voice.

  Adam moved on pure instinct alone, his exhaustion forgotten for a moment as he closed the distance between them in two hurried strides, pressing his sword to her throat, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin. “And you think I’ll just let you do that?” he asked in a cold voice that promised nothing but death. “You’re quite confident.”

  She didn’t try to pull away. Instead, her gaze just darted briefly to the door at the sound of another knock, then back to him, still holding her calm expression.

  “Your hands are shaking, I suspect you’re at your limit,” she noted quietly. “And there are at least ten guards waiting outside that door. If I don’t answer in the next two minutes, they’ll break it down to reach me… and neither of us wants that to happen.”

  Adam frowned and squeezed his fingers tighter around his sword’s hilt, trying to stop the blade trembling from his fatigue. “Neither of us?” he muttered.

  “You’d like to avoid getting caught, and I’d like to avoid having a battle fought in my chamber,” she said. “It’ll make a mess, and I won’t be able to go back to sleep.”

  Another knock pounded on the door, more urgent.

  Adam’s jaw clenched. “Why should I trust anything you say?”

  “I could already be screaming,” she replied simply.

  That was true. If she did scream, the entire room would be flooded with guards in a matter of seconds and he wouldn’t be able to fight them all, let alone escape. Of course, she would die soon after screaming, but then he’d likely follow after her, and who knows whether he’d resurrect. What now? Should he trust her? She truly didn’t seem to want the escalation, but something felt off about her, like she knew something he didn’t. Even as he was holding a sword to her throat, it still felt like she was the one in control.

  Fuck it, things were already going to shit. Adam lowered his sword and she gave him a grateful nod, then slid off the bed and walked toward the door. Adam backed away quickly, putting himself just out of direct sight as she swung the heavy door open.

  “What is it, Captain? Is the castle on fire?” she asked in an irritated tone.

  There was a slight pause outside. “Apologies, Your Majesty,” a deep male voice said respectfully. “The Hand of the King has been found dead.”

  Your Majesty? The word shot into Adam’s head. There was just no fucking way...

  “What? How?” she gasped in shock.

  A couple of the guards shifted; he could hear it in the scrape of metal. “We still don’t know what happened,” the same deep voice replied. “It could be an attack on the castle. We have yet to confirm, but we rushed to ensure your safety.”

  “I’m safe, Captain, as you can see,” she said.

  “I’ll station more guards outside,” the man said. “The entire castle is on lockdown until we know more. Your safety, and that of his Majesty the King, are paramount.”

  “Very well. Thank you for your diligence, Captain,” she said.

  Adam heard as boots shifted and armor clinked, then the heavy thud of footsteps retreating quickly down the corridor. But the woman didn’t close the door right away, she just stood there. Adam couldn’t see her face at all from where he stood pressed against the wall, only the silver of her hair, but he watched her shoulders rise and fall, as if steeling herself. Then she shut the door softly and slid the iron bolt into place.

  The sound was suddenly very loud in the quiet room.

  She turned around. “Well, that certainly complicates my night.”

  “Your Majesty?” he asked the only question in his head.

  The woman’s lips lifted into that same faint, amused smile from earlier, as though she was thinking of a joke she wouldn’t tell. “I am Minerva Rhyse, Queen of Astoria.”

  His fucking luck