I pulledon my nice leathers, the ones that felt like butter across my skin, allowing me to move silently among the shadows. I filled the sheaths that sat on my waist and lined my thighs with freshly sharpened blades. I had a small job to take care of before I retired for the evening, but one could never be too prepared.
One of the ways I tried to stay true to myself, clutching at the last vestiges of the soul my upbringing had systematically shredded, was by enacting my own brand of vigilante justice. A small way I burned back the darkness.
Brushing my hair back, I twisted it into intricate braids. I paused at my reflection in the tarnished mirror, noticing how my lips’ heart shape was identical to my late mother’s, my purple-blue eyes just like my dead father’s. The shimmer of lilac in myhair reminded me that I needed to put a coracite mask on it immediately; it was too much of a beacon of identification.
I never learned why I was born with hair the shade of the lilac-blush petals of the Lunar Peony. Along with my mother’s persistent repetition to stay soft, clever, and alert, she drilled it into me that I could never reveal my natural hair. She taught me to use a common mineral, coracite, to bleach out the color. Not even my father was privy to my congenital anomaly.
I’d take care of that tomorrow morning. Tonight, I was violence.
I quietly opened our front door. Grabbing my faithful mare, I led her out into the night, clomping my way toward the city of Maripol.
I tethered the chestnut horse to a tree that allowed her room to graze, my eyes set on the Oleander Quarter.
The streets were mostly quiet tonight. Clouds obscured the twin moons, offering more darkness than light. The sounds of sin drifted by on the wind as it threaded through open windows.
I waited outside the Kitten Market, a brothel tucked away from the main streets. Its seclusion attracted wealthier clients who desired discretion along with their misdeeds. I’d tracked this particular man for a few weeks after learning about him during one of my previous missions, keeping him on my radar.
He favored a worker that he visited faithfully each Thursday, arriving between ten and eleven in the evening. He predictably departed sometime after midnight. I was willing to wait all night for this one, though.
As I was slinking around the realm, gathering intel for Maelic, I inevitably bumped up against many unsavory individuals in this city. This guy at the Kitten Market, Tavis, was busy collecting little girls. I didn’t know where they were sent, but I would happily rid the world of his putrid soul. Tonight, all my planning will pay off.
I checked my watch, realizing I had at least another thirty minutes.
I paused as two men leaned on each other, stumbling toward the same puddle, adding their own vile piss to it. I blew out some air, averting my eyes. The hilt of my dagger crackled with frost.
My skin prickled with the unnerving awareness I was being watched. I searched the shadows. The darkness served as both a haven and a threat. I wouldn’t discover the intrusive observer from my vantage point. Shadows, like smoke, swirled in the alley. Ice chips collected at my fingertips.
Nolan’s shadows always seemed sharp and cold. These shadows twined languidly, without precision. Had the general returned so soon? I narrowed my eyes to peer into the depths of the darkened corridors around me, willing my eyes to water and reveal the aura behind the shadows.
Just then, the door to the brothel opened, stealing my attention, and Tavis emerged. I strode with predatory stealth, following him in the shadows as he left the building. I barely felt much these days, neither high nor low, but the thrill of ridding the world from even one heinous predator who lured children soothed some broken part of me. Perhaps I had turned into the monster I needed when I was a little girl.
He turned down another road, making his way back toward the nicer part of the city, away from the stench and grime that characterized this quarter. A subtle sparkle of gold wafted around him, the sure-sign of Glint. If he had taken enough of it, it would hamper any magic he might be able to use against me. He might even be hallucinating. I could only hope to add to his nightmare.
I flicked my finger, summoning the fog. It roiled and built, merging with the shadows, coalescing into a blinding wall. The man stopped, confused at how his environment had shifted so quickly. I gripped my dagger, positioning it at the perfect angleas I rushed the man. I grabbed him from behind and swiped it cleanly across his throat. He jolted, then staggered several steps. The sound of gurgling blood and breath echoed against the sleepy stone walls. His body crumpled against the cobblestones.
His eyes grew wide with terror as his heart rate slowed. He wildly searched for his assailant. I bent over him, wiping the blood from my dagger off on his fancy cloak.
“Children are not a commodity,” I whispered. Ragged breaths and twitching limbs were his only response.
I stood, twirling my dagger several times before sheathing it. I stepped over his body, humming as I stalked through the night back toward my horse, my home. As the fog convulsed with my steps, the trace scent of amber and leather drifted into my awareness.
I swear the shadows moved with me.
Chapter Nine
THE GENERAL
Ihit the ground running before the portal behind me sealed shut. I had stumbled upon Ruin on my way out, and the way she stalked through the city piqued my interest. I had wasted enough time watching her, though. My shadows surged forward, clearing a path through the streets of Aphellion. The sound of my boots pounding the earth fell in time with my racing heart. I sprinted toward the bleached limestone that made up the healing quarter, intent on speaking with Ilayah.
I stopped short at the door, gathering myself. Finn’s somber face met me at its entrance; what hope I clung to slowly disintegrated. With a fortifying breath, I stepped into the warded room. Soothing lavender and the sharpness of healing tonics permeated the air.
Xuri held her mother’s hand, her dark eyes rimmed in red. She shook her head when she saw the question in my eyes, the woven beads in her hair clinking with the movement.
Everyone, save Xuri, shuffled out of the room, offering us privacy. Ilayah had taken me in when Xuri found me as an infant in the Perellian Forest. She had acted as my own mother in all the ways that counted. My shoulders slumped as I again beheld her withered body.
“They drained her of almost all of her magic. There’s nothing we can do except help her transition peacefully into death. She briefly became conscious, but delirium overtook her—the side effect of a deeply depleted oracle.” Xuri spoke calmly, softly. A tear followed the path of its predecessors down her cheek.
I took hold of Ilayah’s other hand. I remembered when my own fingers used to fit snugly in her palm. Now my hand engulfed hers as I gently held it, the bones of her hand both sharp and frail. Her dark-brown skin, once glowing and soft like Xuri’s, was now ashen and crepey from her immense dehydration.
