Brela nodded and tapped the Veil shard in her chest. “And it’s strong. I can still feel his power.”
Elias frowned. “You said Rynn was Gerrart’s head guard… so who is this man?”
“He has to be with the Prince of Severina,” Brela replied. “We did take his artifacts as well. But not to worry, if he’s dumb enough to keep searching, he’ll be looking for Warley and Ripley, not the assassin that may or may not be a woman.”
Despite Brela’s delight, Farrah grumbled. “You really had to send that man intotheirhands?”
Elias raised his eyebrow. “Are you defending him?”
“No,” Farrah snapped. “But he also wasn’tentirelycruel. If we’re sending him to his death, he doesn’t deserve a messy one after he stood up to that soldier.”
“It’s okay, Farr,” Brela said, squeezing her hand. “You said he had the highest storm marks. I’m sure he’ll take care of Warley and Ripley for us before they even lift a finger. He’ll think he’s stopped the real thieves.”
“And when they don’t find the Veil Scholar’s dagger?” Elias asked.
She shrugged. “I gave him the same story everyone around here believes—that some think the Night Terror is a woman, but that it’s more likely the title is a belief, not a single person. His trail will run cold.”
Farrah ran a hand through her hair. “Gods, this has been a day.”
“At least we’ll get some good gossip at the inn tonight, and it’s likely those men will be run out of town by then,” Brela replied. “I’m itching to test out this shadow magic. If there’s a chance I can use it without consequence, I need to learn now. Because when I walk into that Earth Festival in a few days surrounded by my enemies, I might need it to survive.”
* * *
It wasclear Rynn was annoyed with Merik, though to someone like Cason who could read his every move, it was clear that he was more upset that Merik was caught and didn’t get any information from the woman than upset over his methods for getting that information. Of course, that only made Rynn more determined to test Cason’s patience by telling him to shut up and follow him around the rest of the day.
Xavier had been the soldier unfortunate enough to face the blonde woman’s wrath in the markets. Though Cason was tempted not to tell Rynn about the information he had gotten out of her—especially after he heard Xavier talk about what he planned to do to that woman if he ever saw her again—he relented. If what she said was true, Warley and Ripley were dangerous. They might have even been the ones to give her those scars and bruises. After sharing what she knew, she had been in a hurry to get out of sight.
Now he was following Rynn, Merik, and Xavier through the busy town, looking for the two men. A few of Rynn’s men had heard similar rumors about Warley and Ripley, enough to piece together a fairly clear description. Large brothers, possibly twins, earth-blessed with strength and water affinities, and very distinctive scarring on their faces that differentiated them.
The damage done at Gerrart’s home was starting to fit more and more with the reports they were getting about these two men. Cason had suspected there was more than one individual involved in the robbery, and it explained the strength and water remnants that had been found at other scenes. Perhaps the woman was right that the Night Terror wasn’t their target, but the assassin was still a Veil Worshipper. That was crime enough.
But that woman. What was it about her that made it impossible to focus? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her eyes, how tall she was when she’d stared him down across the table… how beautiful she was?
The bruises she wore nagged at him. It’s not like she would be willing to let him help her—to punish the man or men who had hurt her—but that’s all he wanted to do.
He blinked and tried to focus his perception magic on Averlyn and his job, not the woman.
Cason scanned the crowd for danger, though with the village’s distaste of the men he was walking with, his senses were buzzing through his body like nothing he’d felt before. As much as it made him sick, he tried to silence that magic and focus instead on his natural talents. It had been a long time since he’d had to work without his gods-blessed gifts.
“This is useless,” Xavier hissed. “Let’s just go back to the markets and offer fifty gold coins for every Veil Worshipper they throw at our feet.”
Cason fought back a growl. That would just cause chaos as villagers tossed anyone they didn’t like in front of them in the hopes for a few gold coins.
“We’re following a lead,” Rynn snapped. “Our job is still hunting the Night Terror, but maybe we can trick Warley and Ripley for the information.”
Even more idiotic, but Cason didn’t have a moment to breathe his annoyance. A cloaked figure slipped out of the alley, barely an arms length away from them as he blocked their path.
“Are you the men inquiring about Warley and Ripley?” he croaked, shaking a cane in their direction.
Rynn studied the hunched man, his hand tightening over his sword. “What do you know, old man?”
Cason flinched. Even without his magic, he could feel something off about this encounter. The cloaked figure may have appeared small, but his movements were too deliberate to be a frail, old man. Even his words didn’t match, though the croak was a clever way to disguise his voice. He wasn’t old, and he wasn’t unarmed—if Cason hadn’t imagined the slight clink under the fabrics of the man’s cape.
The hooded figure shifted his head left and right before lowering his voice. “Two buildings down, through the alley on the right. There is a hideout. Easy to miss.”
He made a crude motion with his hands—not quite movements that would indicate calling on magic, but similar enough to pass as one for an untrained eye. For Rynn’s eye. But Cason knew it well. The gesture, albeit rough, was an old ritual from Anfroy—a prayer to send with a dying man as an offering to the sun god.
Rynn pushed past the man without saying anything more, drawing his sword with a fluid motion. Xavier and Merik followed his lead, leaving Cason a few steps behind. He wasn’t stupid enough to charge into something like this.
