Their broad frames move through the darkness like they’re made of it.
Daggers drawn, muscles coiled tight, violence in their eyes.
They don’t walk. They prowl like men made monsters. Stalking, taunting.
They scoop wide around the guards, moving to approach from behind to avoid a fight.
We need a clean, swift kill and they know it.
“A licence?” Rubi asks innocently. “Yes. If you’ll just give me a moment to retrieve it for you…” she trails off, rummaging through her satchel.
That’s when Kael and Therion make their move.
Kael’s dagger slides cleanly between Dull Hair’s ribs. It punches through flesh with a muffled thud, his breath dying in a single sharp wheeze before a scream could even form on his lips.
Therion’s dagger sinks into Bald Head’s neck, slicing clean through the main artery. Bald Head folds to the slick floor with a wet crack, a gurgled rasp escaping him.
“Could’ve just charred them,” Ronyn says from behind me, and I give him an incredulous glare. This dragon thing has gone to his head.
Kael drags his victim to the side of the street in less than a heartbeat, and Therion follows suit. Clean, effective, quiet.
“Teddy!” Rubi breathes, wrapping her arms around Therion’s neck in relief, and perhaps some shock.
Even monsters soften for the ones we love.
He carries her to the alcove without spectacle, and we crowd into the space.
I want to stop to ask if she’s okay, but we don’t have time.
“We’ve just killed two royal guards—it won’t remain a secret for long, and it won’t go unpunished. The district will get locked down. We need to keep moving. Ready?” I ask, but I don’t wait for the answer.
I rap my knuckles against the heavy, wooden door. Three sharp knocks in quick succession, followed by two booming knocks spaced three heartbeats apart.
I wait.
The door opens just a crack to reveal the same harsh face that always greets me.
“Iskara?” he asks, trying to make out my face under my hood. I nod, pushing it back to reveal my unmistakable auburn hair and green eyes, and he exhales an aggrieved sigh. “Gellesk and his fuckin’ debts,” he groans, but the door swings open.
“Oh, and this time, I brought friends,” I say, gesturing my head behind me. He eyes my friends warily.
“Big ones,” he observes. “Come on then, he’s down here.”
So we descend into the lawless tunnels of The Underbelly.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ELYSSARA
Dark deals are madeand secrets whispered in every shadowed alcove. States altered. Blades sharpened. The grimy steps drag us deeper into The Underbelly’s maw. I look back to check on Seren, but her eyes aren’t wide with shock in the way I expect them to be—they’re focused. Narrowed. As if her naïvety has been stripped and replaced with earned maturity.
I keep going, hand hovering over the Starforged Blade at my side. The Underbelly operates in a precarious balance of averted gazes, selective hearing, and promises upheld, but one wrong step, one lingering gaze, and the balance turns to shit.
The narrow tunnels press bodies closer than is comfortable, and the air thickens with humidity.
“I need Obsidian Shards,” I murmur to Harsh Face, keeping my voice low. Even admitting to needing something for magical suppression is enough to get you hanged on the castle gates if you tell the wrong person. But if there’s anything I’ve learned about The Underbelly, it’s that rebellion runs in their blood, and they look after their own.
“Keep your voice down,” he says sharply through gritted teeth, eyeing me warily.
