“I found this today, northeast of Lumen,” I tell her as I hand her the gold necklace, hoping that Nia is right in her assumption of Sade’s interest.
She turns it over in her hands, taking in the way the gold loops together, and the purple gem attached to it. “I know this necklace,” she finally says, a look I can’t decipher contorting her features. “It belonged to our grandmother originally but was given to Nia’s mother before the war.”
I don’t acknowledge her response, afraid of giving too much away. Instead, I focus on closing my satchel, catching sight of my dagger’s bone-white hilt before I do.
“Northeast you said?”
“Yes. Tangled in a spindle of coral.”
She nods, laying the necklace down on her vanity before moving to the bed. “It was likely from when they first left the seamounts. Whenever they were tipped off.” She speaks quietly, as if she is working out the details aloud to herself. “I doubt it is from any recent activity.”
“Why?”
Sade groans as she collapses onto the silk-covered eelgrass, her eyes immediately falling shut. “Because I have reason to believe they’ve gone northwest.” At my answering silence, she draws a single eye open, lifting the accompanying eyebrow as she does. “It’s simple, really. The seamount sirens are a large group, but they can’t stay together, or it would be too easy to spot them. You and I aren’t the only ones going out to search for them.” A yawn interrupts her. “As such, they will need to move in smaller groups so as not to draw attention. And they would want to get away as fast as possible and find somewhere to hide on the path with least resistance. If they go northeast, they’ll have to go around the fae side of the Continent, and this time of year, the water is only going to be colder and more rough that way. It’ll be dangerous for any of the offspring and elderly who cannot keep up.”
Sade’s gaze catches on my hands fidgeting with the strap of my satchel, and I force them to still.
“But if they go northwest? There’s plenty of small outposts for them to hide in. No one will think they are anything but sirens traveling back and forth, selling wares or whatever excuse they come up with.”Shit.Nia had all but exclaimed this was exactly what they were doing. “And then there is Eersten.” My blood runs cold, the tips of my nails digging into the scales at my hips.
“What about Eersten?”
My sister pushes herself onto her elbows as she studies me, her brows creasing together for a moment before she releases them slowly. “Ah, yes, you would have likely stayed there on your way to the Northern Island. A feat, I have to say, I did not think you would accomplish.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, to which she actually chokes out a noise that sounds like a laugh.
“Don’t sound so offended, Little Sister. The look on Allegra’s face when she learned you had returned was worth its weight in gold. But Eersten has always been a place that has caught our mother’s attention because of the sirens that live there. If the seamount sirens think they can hide there, they are wrong.”
Sade then dismisses me from her room, citing that the reason she is so tired is because of thefucking disasterthe Queen’s Legion has turned into after our mother’s announcement.
Reaching my room, I groan as I lay on my bed, placing my hands over my eyes and replaying the day’s events in my head. If Sade already suspects Nia’s next move with the seamount sirens, there is no telling how quickly she will find them. Can I truly stand by and watch as the siren queen slaughters them?The most dangerous person you will face is the one willing to do whatever it takes. Myla’s voice echoes in my mind, and as sleep eludes me, a single question taunts me well into the next morning: Who am I willing to become?
Chapter Thirty: Myla
TheOpalBrothelisthe best one in Khargis, and that isn’t exactly saying much. A bar makes up the front of the establishment, the only drinks served the kind that hurt going down. Leading to the worn wooden bar top is a collection of mismatched tables and chairs, occupants gathered around them as they scout which female to claim for the evening. While cleaner than its competitors, this place in the center of the poorest district of Khargis is still filled with the normal assortment of trash. Rich males doing a terrible job hiding theirextramarital affairs from their wives. Drunks spending coin they don’t have on bodily pleasures instead of feeding their children. Lurking in the corners are those of an even seedier variety—males for hire that work efficiently and don’t ask questions. They are mirrored by females whose gift for blending in allows them to hear all. And then there is me. A princess shunned by her own kingdom. Believed to be a curse set upon the fae for their discretions during the war. A punishment from the gods.
I toss back my shot of liquor, enjoying the way it burns as it coats my throat.
To believe in the existence ofgodsis to admit that you are alright with someone fucking with your life, controlling you as if you are nothing more than a puppet attached to taut strings. I have enough of that existence here in the corporeal plane of my kingdom. I don’t need it from some made up illusion of power that has never been seen or heard from.The will of the godsis what Father Yamin calls it during his pretentious hours’ long sermons, and that will is something only he and the other high-ranking holy males of the church can decipher, apparently. Our people are to continue begging for forgiveness, continue showing their piety in order to find redemption from the equivalent of ghosts in the skies. I may have tarnished every decent bone in my body over the last half a decade, but evenIbelieve that threatening torture to get good behavior isn’t a way to lead the people. I could laugh at the hypocrisy.
The bartender—a fae who looks no older than myself with greasy black hair and beady little eyes—props himself up on the counter across from me. “Another drink, princess?” I snort and shake my head. He uses the nickname as an insult, noting that because I don’t look as if I haven’t showered in weeks, I must be ashigh maintenance as the royal family living in their fancy stone palace. It is ironic, and yet I hope the silly nickname won’tcome back to bite me in the ass. “Your favorite is here; she’s just off with another customer.”
I clench my jaw, my fingers curling into my black leather pants as I look away. Of all the brothels that dot the landscape in the bowels of this city, I always return to this one. It seems my repeated presence is beginning to breed a sense of familiarity, and for the sake of my larger mission, I can’t allow it to continue. I delay leaving, ordering one final shot to avoid having to squat for hours on a nearby roof as I wait for my target to exit the bar he likes to frequent, when I’m hit with the scent of blackberries. My body immediately relaxes, the aroma working to help me draw in a calmer breath.Fuck.Familiarity indeed.
There are no excuses now—this will have to be my last time here.
Turning from the bar, I spot the owner of the delicate scent. She gives me a small smirk and quick nod of her head before disappearing down the hallway that leads to her room. The bartender behind me chuckles as I drop a few coins for my drinks with a glare. While known for his lewd comments and lascivious gaze, Ayan has never actually touched anyone without their consent. Word in brothels spreads easily amongst the females who keep it afloat, and no one has ever complained of having a negative experience with him. It’s the reason he’s still alive.
My boots stick to the floor as I walk down the dark hallway, leaving the noisier half of the brothel behind for where the actual business takes place. Each door I pass contains a cacophony of noises—moans and grunts and the occasional muffled plea. My delicate sensibilities had been scandalized by all the different ways pleasure could be found when I first came here. But I had been different then, a little more full of hope and a little less intrigued by the darkness that wrapped itself around me.
The door to Karina’s room is left ajar, and I quietly push it open and slip in, the scent of blackberries intensifying—along with the smell of the others who have been here. “I’m just going to wash up!” she shouts from the small bathroom attached, her voice echoing off the tile.
“Take your time.” In truth, I had plenty to kill before I needed to leave. The target I am hunting tonight will spend an ungodly amount of coin at the bar, likely harass a few females while he is there, and then have his carriage take him to theotherside of Khargis. Where the homes are as elegantly crafted as the palace itself, built into the mountainside so they can look down upon those who live and work at the mountain’s base.
Karina’s soft voice hums from the shower as I sit on the edge of her bed and begin untying the laces of my boots. Her room is always clean, the sheets on her bed swapped between customers. Candles of every shape and size are placed throughout, making shadows dance on the walls. Karina hadn’t been my introduction to sexual gratification, but she had been the first to see me as more than a paying customer. It’s been years of indulging in her company—something that brings me pleasure that I don’t often allow myself. But it has to end tonight.
The shower finally turns off, and the rustling noises of Karina drying herself encourage me to move a little faster. Steam billows out of the bathroom, the mist parting when she steps through, her naked skin flushed from the shower. “It’s been a while,” she says, running her hand through her white hair, the stark color an anomaly amongst the fae. Her dark skin is interrupted by patches of pure white, creating a unique and beautiful pattern that I’ve traced my tongue over time and time again. She crawls onto the bed, night-colored eyes meeting my own as she braces her hands on either side of my shoulders. A necklace dangles in the air between us, and I lift my hand to caress it between my fingers.
“It has, and you will not see me again after this.”
