“Now you’ll go in for the kill.” Using my right hand, I push her own forward until her talons are scraping along the skin at my neck. Aria doesn’t breathe, and my own inhale is trapped in my chest as I draw the sharpened tips of her claws down the space beneath my ear, mimicking the motion she would use if she were truly attacking me. “There is an artery here, at leastfor the fae,” I say, and Aria nods. I search her neck for her gills, having only just barely seen them when we were hiding from one of the King’s Riders and his dragon. In her mortal form, they are nothing but the faintest outline, only visible from just the right angle. “I imagine shredding a siren’s gills would be just as devastating?”
“Yes.” Her eyes bounce back and forth between mine.
“Then that’s what you go for. No hesitation. No remorse.” My fingers tighten around her hand. “It isyourlife versus theirs, and the person who is victorious is the one who is willing to do whatever it takes.”
“Who am I willing to become?” she whispers. I nod in acknowledgement, and her hand relaxes in my hold, talons retreating until her fingers close around mine.
Tension suspends between us, the heat of our bodies kindling that feels just an inch away from igniting. Yet that thought does nothing to stop the way my eyes trace the outline of her face. Of her round eyes and the dark freckles dotting the skin beneath them. Her supple lips and how they are just barely parted. I tilt my head down a fraction just as Aria angles hers, our lips perfectly in alignment. All I’d have to do is weave my hand through her hair, draw her in half an inch and— My stomach pitches, a strange sensation taking root that knocks me from my stupor and forces me to release her and take a step back. Aria’s hands remain in the air in front of her for another moment before she lowers them, her gaze dropping to the ground while her brows furrow.Do you feel it too?I want to ask.That annoying draw?
Instead, I command us to run through the exercise again.
Part Six
Sympathy is an emotion I’ve long since discarded. Now there is only venomousanger.
Chapter Ninety-Nine: Myla
I’mfreshlyshoweredandjust barely dressed when Leesi enters my room. “Father Yamin has requested your attendance in the temple.”
My slippered steps are soft against the polished stone as I follow two guards through the palace to the temple’s entrance, the sight of the dark door tightening my chest. Dressed in light yellow, I curse the way the beads on my veil are just long enough to fall over the tops of my eyes, obscuring my sight in a way that leaves me feeling too vulnerable. I have no doubt that Icould pull a sword from the scabbard on one of these assholes’ backs and drive it through their gut if it came down to it, but all the violent thoughts dancing around in my head are just that—thoughts. Acting on them would be pointless,stupid and reckless, without a dragon to back me up.
Cold air rushes from the temple doors as the guards push them open, stirring the sheer fabric of my dress. I keep my spine straight, my hands clasped in front of me as I walk past them and into the empty temple where the appointed Divine Fatherstands right next to the pole I was tied to the last time I was here.
He takes note of the way I hold myself tall and not in supplication like he expects. “Defiance has never been a good look on you, Myla,” he chides, forgoing my royal title as he steps towards me. In his usual black robes with his hands pulled behind his back, the picture he tries to paint of an imposing figure might scare most. Itusedto frighten me. But I take a sadistic sort of pleasure in knowing that—while I may pretend to bend the knee to his will, the will of the gods he represents—there is only one being powerful enough to end a life in this temple. And itisn’thim. “Show respect to Khaos and Solana,” he snaps, his voice echoing through the otherwise empty space. “Now.”
I take my time lowering onto my knees, facing not the thrones I did last time where my father, my mother, and Navin sat but to their right, where statues of the god Khaos and goddess Solana are etched into shiny white marble. The former is depicted in layers of fabric that gather over one shoulder and drape down his back like a cape. Next to him stands his daughter, her hands held in front of her, palms turned up. She wears a dress, the fabric split down the middle with a carved line in the stone. In one palm rests a flaring sun, and in the other a crescent moon.
“They watch over us with sadness in their hearts,” he continues, and I flatten my lips. “To have created us in their image, only for so many of us to spit back in their faces. But a reckoning is coming for those who are no longer pious. For those who are not…pureof heart.” Father Yamin moves behind me, the sound of his robes shuffling is followed by another noise I’m familiar with. I keep myself exceptionally still, even as my veins ice over at the clinking metal of a chain unrolling from a wooden baton. “Tell me, Myla, have you begged for forgiveness in prayer?”
I could lie and pretend to be someone good. Someone eager to please him. But it won’t make a difference; it never has. I’d rather take his abuse than give him anounceof satisfaction. “No.”
“That is what I feared. Now, you know what must be done.” The air stirs as he pulls his arm back, and I can picture the silver chain swinging from where it is lifted high above him. “Our kingdom will know mercy from the gods soon,Princess, and one can only hope that they will strike those they know are unworthy from this land. That they will purify it with dragon fire until only those who deserve to know their light remain. Something big is coming. The gods have whispered so.”
I grit my teeth together as the first hit of the chain streaks across my upper back, jolting me forward from the impact until my hands plant on the ground in front of me. I quickly straighten, but Father Yamin shoves me back down.
“Only in the bowing of our heads can we find the guidance of the gods,” he says, repeating a prayer.
I close my eyes as the next hit comes. The father continues his rambling nonsense, but I tune it out as I draw on years of slipping out of the present to focus on something else. I think of Shen and the victims I’m failing by not being able to hunt my targets. Of Sunis and our bond that’s yet to form. Withouttrying, I think of Aria. White flashes behind my lids as another whip of the chain ignites the skin across my back, the permanent tenderness of the flesh there throbbing in time to my heartbeats. I bury myself in those memories, ignoring the realization that something within me has shifted when it comes to the siren. That of all my mind has conjured up, getting lost in thoughts of her is by far the easiest to do. As the strikes continue and Father Yamin angrily speaks, over and over again, I think of Aria.
The shingles creak beneath my weight as I crouch lower, my eyes squinting against the darkness of night and the cold wind that scrapes against the side of my face. Across the street, a tavern is lit from within, the curtained window showing silhouettes of its patrons as they dance or play cards. Palace guards and King’s Riders are among them, some surveying the space as if the Shadow would openly drink in a tavern.Fucking idiots. Others partake in the drinks offered, though even through the shrouded glass, I watch as they make demands of thingsnotoffered.
Shen had been busy in her own tavern when I arrived, but in the note hidden in her apartment, she told me that she was handling the guards’ presence well enough. It was affecting her ability to gather information, but she hadn’t been harassed or encountered a situation in which she felt she was endangered. I had trained Shen in the same way I was doing with Aria, enough so that if she could lure a male to her apartment, there were enough weapons hidden within reach to easily kill him. She knew I would dispose of the body, no questions asked.
But, even with the task made more difficult, Shen had still come through with enough evidence on a newer target.
Kaito was his name, and Shen had only been made aware of him a week ago when a female so battered and mutilated thatit took three separate baths to clean all of the blood off of her was found in the street just a few blocks away from the group home. The females who ran the charity reached out discreetly to Shen, believing that she used the profits from her bar to help supply them with whatever items they might need. My fingers had itched for my blades as I read what Shen said the victim experienced, everything from having the tips of her ears sliced off to being branded in multiple spots by an iron. It was horrific, and though there were so many foulbeaststhat needed my particular expertise, Shen had been able to learn where Kaito was going to betonight.
And afterweeksof being idle, of having my blades be all butuseless, I desperately needed to watch the blood drain from an opened vein.
I observe the tavern most of the night, noting the guards as they leave and enter in batches, never once emptying the place entirely or leaving the street bare of their presence. Kaito doesn’t leave either, and my frustration grows as the moon does above me, until it’s resting at its highest point and I find my muscles aching from holding my position for so long. Tonight won’t be the night I give Kaito the justice he deserves, and the thought that he’ll have more time to terrorize another victim nearly has me leaping off this roof and storming into the bar, guards and consequences be damned.
That reckless line of thinking is my signal that it’s time to go. My leg muscles shake as I slowly stand, checking the streets and alleyways that surround the structure to ensure no guards can see me. My back is still tender from Father Yamin’s discipline, but the pain is a reminder of my purpose. Of that bigger goal.
Like the one I’m standing on, the neighboring roof is built with its highest point at the center, the tiles angling down on either side. Backing up, I eye the distance in the silver moonlight and, with a deep breath, launch into a sprint, covering theroof quickly and leaping a few inches from the edge. My arms windmill as I soar over the empty space between the structures and then land, tucking into a roll to minimize the sound of my weight colliding with the tiles. The hood of my cloak falls, and I quickly tug it back up before crouching and listening for any shouting or voices to indicate I’ve been spotted. When the streets retain the same low hum of noise, I stand back up and prepare to jump again.
Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, I’m not heading in the direction of the palace but towards my warehouse. It’s become habit to check in on it now that so many of my father’s men occupy Khargis. The space ismine, and finding another that can accommodate all the things I need it to would be a pain in my ass that I simply don’t have time or patience for. Though guards patrol here as well, it’s more thinned out as there is nothing but the façade of broken-down buildings and abandoned businesses. One day, this place might know glory under a different ruler, but for now, even in its current state, I’m grateful for the darker purpose it serves.
Climbing down to the ground, I creep to the edge of a dilapidated building, curling my fingers around the corner of the jagged stone and leaning forward to make sure the street is clear when voices halt me—one male and one female. I palm my curved blade as I duck behind the corner and wait, keeping my eyes peeled on the street.
