Chapter Thirty-One: Myla
Hehissesasharpsound through his teeth, crimson blood pooling beneath his finely tailored tunic. “Fucking bastard!”
I click my tongue and resume my walking, wiping my blade on his clothing as I do. “I thought we were on the same page? To think I found someone who might understand me,” I tease, my words met with a forced laugh.
“We are surely more alike than you think.”
“Shall we compare? I’ll go first. I enjoy killing those who believe themselves to be exempt from any kind of consequence. Your turn.”
The sound of blood dripping into the dirt sends a jolt of satisfaction through me, but it’s interrupted when Sir Dae speaks through a labored breath. “I enjoy giving value to females who, otherwise, would be nothing more than a waste of space and air.”
I snap forward and cut into his chest again, creating an ‘x’.Control. I am in control.
“Rape and torture hardly seem like things one should be grateful for, let alone find value in,” I respond.
He attempts a shrug, grunting as he moves. “It gives them a story, and I pay them handsomely for their time.”
This time, it’s me who laughs as I round his hanging body, coming to his side. “A story? What is a story to someone who is no longer themselves because of what you’ve done to them?”
“It’s more than they had before.”
“Pathetic,” I growl, digging my dagger into the space between his ribs. “The way males think themselves above the world.”
A deep noise rumbles from his throat, but he doesn’t whimper in pain. “Why should we believe differently when the gods themselves designed it this way?”
I amsickof hearing about the gods and their so-calleddivinerule. Sick of the males who believe these gods speak directly to them and for their own benefit.
And I am fuckingtiredof not hearing this male scream.
I slam the blade into his ribs until the hilt meets his skin, finally rewarded with a guttural shout that echoes off the walls. As if realizing that he can make such a noise, he begins shouting again, his previously calm demeanor evaporating.
“Look at that,” I muse, yanking the blade out and then wiping his blood on his cheek, laughing when I see the tear that stainsthe skin there. “You bleed as equally as any whore. As any female or peasant or anyone else you believe yourself to be above.” Reaching up, I tug the black cloth covering half my face down and let my natural voice come to the surface. “And you’ll die the same as them too.”
Sir Dae’s eyes—glossy and red—focus on my features, bouncing back and forth between my delicately pointed chin and the fullness of my lips. I’m denied the shock and surprise I’m yearning for when he scoffs instead, lifting his head away from mine. “When you’re caught and the kingdom realizes it is a female who has been pretending as you have, they will show you no mercy.”
I nod as I stand before him, my fingers clutching the frayed hilt of my dagger. “I’m beyond mercy, and as you mentioned yourself, no one cares about what I’m doing.”
“If you kill me, they will care.”
I smile wide enough to show my elongated canines. “Because you’re so important?”
“Killing me has consequences beyond just saving those no one else cares about. You’re anamateur, and it shows.”
“Maybe,” I acknowledge. Sir Daeisone of the most high profile targets I have ever gone after. It had taken months of meticulously tracking the victims with my informant for us to figure out who was responsible for leaving them in such horrific states. Because of his noble name and the money associated with it, Sir Dae has been able to pay to keep mouths shut. I can only threaten so many people beforeIbecome at risk of being exposed. Maybe killing him will amplify that risk. But maybe I don’t fucking care.
His torture is slow and meticulous as I cut into is soft flesh over and over again. Yet, for all the pain I inflict, not once does he beg me to stop, and when he finally stops breathing and new blood stops layering atop the old, I find that the usual sense ofrelief I feel after a night like this is absent. Instead, something I can’t quite name takes residence in the hole in my chest. Something darker and more like dread than I’ve ever felt before. I push it down, leaving it to fester within me like everything else while I work on disposing of Sir Dae’s body.
I wrap my cloak more firmly around my shoulders, the fabric doing a half decent job at warding off the late-night chill. Stars flicker above me, the silver light of the moon shining down between the pines as I make my way from my warehouse to Bali and Sunis’s cave. There are still a few hours until the sun crests, and while my body aches and my head pounds in time to my steps, I still can’t shake that ominous feeling. It chased me the entire journey to the dragon fields, disappearing when I looked over my shoulder only to descend upon me again the moment I turned back around.
Despite the way I turn over Sir Dae’s words in my head, searching between them for the reason I feel sooff, I keep coming back to the same question: What if he was right? Being Khargis’s Shadow isn’t a completely altruistic venture. It is becoming someone in the dark that I can’t be in the light. I am feared. I am respected. I amsomeone. What if tonight, I had thrown that all awaybecausethere is no line I am unwilling to cross?
The scent of sulfur is strong when I finally break from the trees and step onto the gravel outside of the cave. To my left are more mountains and dragon caves, though they are far enough away that if any beasts are residing within them, I can’t tell. To my right, the dragon fields extend for acres. Like the last time I came, piles of remains smolder beneath the remnants of dragon fire, dotting the land in a haunting yellow glow.
I blow out a breath, wincing at the pain at my ribs, and plant my feet on the ground. “Bali!”
Leather wings rustle, a deep rumble answering my call, but I realize too late that it isn’t coming from the darkness in front of me. It’s coming frombehind. Heat in the form of a menacing exhale blasts my back, doing nothing to the shot of fear that slides down my spine like ice. Swallowing, I turn slowly, hoping that giving my back to the cave is the smarter choice, and come face to face with a dragon from the Hiravar line. I stare down the bumps and ridges of his snout, his nostrils angled as he snarls at me, showing off his jagged teeth—some of which are stained with blood. These dragons are the smallest of the three types, but that knowledge is inconsequential when he can still swallow me whole. Round dark green scales frame a pair of glossy, luminous yellow eyes, and I only hold the dragon’s glare for a moment before I drop my own to the ground.
Everything Navin has told me about dragons and everything I have read about the different breeds myself rushes through me at once, the information categorizing itself as I recall what the fuck I am supposed to do in this situation. With an active bond, there is a given level of protection from another’s dragon. Without that connection, however, I am no better than any of the unlucky piles of singed bones out on the dragon field.
