“Thank you, Hellwhore,” one of them says. “We won’t forget this.”
“Then make sure no one else does, either. Tell everyone you can: Flesh-trading is dead in Nuhav. The Bitch-Queen has come to finish the job the Bronzes refuse to do.”
The door bursts open. Five men start to swarm in, gaping at the sight of the dead merchant at Sephania’s feet.
The first man gets Vallan’s axe in the chest, the wound so cavernous it nearly severs his body in halflengthwise, from shoulder to crotch.
A shower of blood sprays back on the other four, and they scream and turn to run.
Sephania rushes forward, grabs one of the fleeing men by his tunic, and pulls him to her. She snarls in his face, “Looks like the Gilded Guild needs a new lord. If I were you, I’d disband. Tell your friends.”
The man sputters, mouth opening and closing—
And Sephania lets him go, growls in frustration, and impales him through the chest in a wickedly fast advance. “I’ll find someone else,” she informs the shocked, dying man.
I furrow my brow as we leave the gambling den unimpeded, everyone downstairs parting the seas after we left a string of dead bodies in our wake.
“Why’d you kill that last sap?” I ask once we’re outside, on our way to the carriage.
“Didn’t like the way he leered at me,” Sephania answers in a dreary voice. “Stared at my tits too long.”
Chapter 22
Sephania
Something overcame me in that wretched fucking place. Something terrifying and . . . exulting.
It was not our intent to create a mass casualty event in the first area we searched. But seeing those scared girls shivering and trembling—fearingusas much as anyone else—broke something inside me.
It doesn’t hurt that having Vallan and Garroway at my side makes me feel invincible, like I have personal sentries and can do no wrong.
I want to believe Garro.Those men deserved it.
Telling the nightladies that flesh-trading is disallowed in Nuhav was an impromptu idea that sounded good in my head. The longer I sit in the carriage, with Vallan leading us deeper south toward the rooster-gabled brothel, the more I believe in what I said.Those weren’t just words. That is how I will exact change. Killing every cursed slavetrader who dares show their face in my city.
This, I realize, is how I will begin the revolution that is sorely needed in this place.
“Perhaps we can use this to our advantage,” Garro murmurs, stroking his chin. Clearly he’s thinking along the same lines I am.
I’m curious about his plans. “How?”
“No fucking idea. That’s Skartovius’ purview. Disrupting the status quo will not sit well with many, however.”
I lift my brow. “I thought we weren’t telling Skar.”
“Yousaid you’re not telling Skar. As you also said, he’smymaster. He’ll know soon enough when he reads my frazzled thoughts.”
I pout, nodding.We probably shouldn’t keep it from Skar anyway, what we’re doing down here.“Skartovius Ashfen may be the brain of this operation, the cunning tactician, but we’re not stupid, Garro. We can come up with our own schemes, you know.”
The dhampir laughs, sitting back and spreading his arms wide. “Oh, certainly, lass. I’ve been making schemes my whole life. I only mean to say Skar is more successful at it than I am.”
I smile sharply. “Two can say that.”
We fall into companionable silence. I listen to the creaking of the wheels beneath us, and it doesn’t take long for a plan to formulate in my mind.
“Skar said he wanted a distraction in Nuhav,” I murmur, tapping my leg and staring out the window at the houses whirring by. “Something to divert the Five Ministries’ attention from our coup against the overlords.”
“Right.” Garro scratches his smooth cheek. “I don’t think he meant—”
