The patrols stationed near the palace are little more than lawn ornaments for all the good they do as I slip through the shadows unseen.Even the guards at the gate are easily distracted by a rustling of leaves in a tall bush nearby, and I begin to wonder if it is the reliance on their gifts that makes them so complacent or the simple fact that the palace has never seen a siege.
It is late in the evening when I climb the thick branching vines and push open my bedroom window at Felias’s manor. I ponder how it is that a spy of his rank can possibly exist without being able to trust his staff. It will do me no favors if the general finds out I’ve snuck out again and I doubt the male will be convinced that my reasoning remains as innocent as it was before.
Snatching a purse of coins from my belongings, three bundles of herbs, and a small pouch of tools, just to be safe, I open the window facing the inner gardens and eye the brick ledge below the second story windows. Clinging to the thick vines I swing out into the night, shuffling my feet to the side as I make my way toward my uncle’s room. I should have asked the man the location of Yshka’s home the moment I returned from the dress shop, but I won’t waste the opportunity tonight provides, even if that means waking him from his sleep.
I’m hardly surprised to find his window latched. In his line of business, you can never be too careful. Placing the small leather pouch between my teeth, I slip a thin bar from within its depths, sliding it between the frame of the window and its delicate pane. With a well-practiced flick, the bar hits the latch, spinning it open, and I swing the window wide before letting myself inside.
“Felias,” I whisper.
The long drawl of his snore cuts short as he flinches awake to find me standing at the foot of his bed. “Fates!” he nearly shouts.
“You know of Ishara?” I ask, before the man can scold me for breaking into his room.
Maybe I should feel bad, but heishere to help me in any way he can in pursuit of my mission.
“Can this wait until morning, my dear?” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I need to find her father’s house,” I say, without further explanation.
“I see,” he says, raising an eyebrow at me. “I assume you do not intend to knock when you call on him at this hour?”
I only glare at the man before he grumbles something under his breath and tosses his thick duvet to the side. He slides his feet into a pair of velvet slippers beside the bed and walks toward a small table in the corner of the room.
“Here.” He pulls a large map from a drawer at the front of the desk, unfurls it, and pins a thick finger to a large home by the edge of the sea.
The canvas is well-lit by the moonlight streaming in from the window behind him and I mark my quickest route before turning toward the window.
“Have a care, niece.” His voice comes from behind me, and I pause just long enough to hear his warning. “There is very little that family would not do to take power in A’kori.”
“Good,” I say, swinging my foot onto the ledge outside his window.
“And nothing that will stop them from ending the lives of every mortal in this veil if that were ever to come to pass,” he adds.
My back goes rigid, and I lock eyes with the man, his face heavy with concern.
“The enemy of your enemy is not always your friend,” he warns.
I nod my understanding before disappearing into the night, his warnings altering the shape of my plans for the evening. It may have only been once, as we left Adora’s dress shop, but Awri had not been shy speaking openly about the family’s matriarch, Yshka, and her desire to hold the throne. Though my own king has not granted me permission to draw up terms that will indebt him, I would be a fool not to explore the possibility of an alliance.
I can only hope their desire to see their king dethroned outweighs their desire for the crown, as I have no doubt my own sovereign will never again allow a feyn to rule in A’kori.
It is late in the evening when I finally reach the tall manor overlooking the sea. Its walls are a deep blue and panels of firelight cast from its highest windows onto the cobbled street below. The lower rooms are dark, save for a handful of small lights illuminating the halls. The only movement on the ground floor is the silhouette of a slender female making her way upthe stairs. Her thick drape of red hair gleaming in the flickering light of the candles she passes.
It is by means of a small guest cottage that I make my way toward the well-lit windows on the second floor. Stepping on a decorative stone to extend my height, I cling to the edge of the roof, grappling the porcelain shingles as they threaten to slide out from beneath my hands. Only one manages to slip past my fingers, and I thank the stars when my reflexes take over, my foot dashing out to kick the tile onto the lawns before it can shatter on the stone beneath me and announce my presence to the whole of A’kori.
I puff out a sigh of relief, pulling myself onto the roof to sneak across the ridge, positioning myself behind the chimney. I survey a gathering taking place on the second floor of the main building. It is a small group of no more than ten feyn, Ishara among them, as well as the red-haired female I’d seen below.
The muffled tones of their voices barely make it out into the night, and with every back turned to the tall glass panels of the doors, I can hardly help myself. I take a backwards step and lunge forward, vaulting off the roof to land on the balcony of the dark room beside their gathering.
It’s curious that unlike Felias’s window, the doors to the balcony are unlocked. The hairs on the back of my neck raise. While it is entirely possible someone simply forgot to latch the door, it speaks to the Drakai in me, stating clearly that the power contained within these walls does not require the protection of locks.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim, moonlit room. The low hum of their voices falls on my ears, indiscernible. I find myself in an office of sorts. Books line the walls, maps on display in glass covered frames. A well-used leather chair sits behind a wide desk with a thin blade laying in the center, a letter with a broken seal beside it.
Snatching the letter, I hold it up to a small window, the script illuminated under the light of the moon.
General Xeyvian,
Reports of the resistance remain prevalent among the feyn in A’kori. Their recruitments have tripled in the last week. Many of our young pledge themselves to their cause, intent on making the voyage across the sea.
