Because he would always be held back by the chain she had hoped he would break some day. But, by the look in her eyes, she knew it would never break.
Which meant she had thrown her last line of defenseknowinghe was going to catch the blade. That he would betray her because of that shard in her chest. Because of what it made her.
Brela’s head leaned back and rested against the wall behind her. Her emotions shifted, and now Cason could see the look on her face. Resignation. The look of a woman who expected—and accepted—death. “Did they believe that I threw it at you? That you caught it before it could kill you?”
Cason nodded.
“Then I got my answer,” she whispered. “It’s not your fault, you know. For not picking up on what I am.” She tapped the obsidian in her chest, bracing herself as they hit a particularly rough bump. “I’m very good at my job, but since this thing is part of the Veil wall—the thing that’s meant to defend against non-shadow magic—those other three gods-blessed magics have a hard time sensing it. Your sun-blessed senses, specifically, are dulled when you’re around me.”
That explained how those two men had walked by without him noticing they had breached his perimeter. And how Gerrart had barreled up on them without Cason registering it.
He grunted. “I’ve never seen one so big, or seen it embedded in skin like that. How did it happen?”
Brela’s face tightened—her playful demeanor gone in a flash—and Cason could see the Night Terror’s fortress finally shake as she growled. “I don’t need to divulge my past to you. It won’t do you any good. My family is already dead, and I am alone.”
This was the Veil Worshipper. The assassin that enjoyed torturing her victims. The cold creature that Gerrart was terrified of.
All traces of Brela, the woman Cason had tried to keep hold of in his mind and heart, were gone.
Cason clenched his fist in response. “No, I don’t think you are alone.” Her mask didn’t break as he leaned forward. “Because I believed you in the markets. You alone might be the real Night Terror, but I think there are others who claim the title, or at least work with you. There’s no way you did that to Gerrart’s townhouse by yourself. I think you had help, not from Warley and Ripley, but the two people who were hiding nearby while you were captured. You were helped by the strength-blessed man and water-wielding woman who are currently tracking this convoy. You trained them well.”
Shehadtrained them well. He almost didn’t notice them watching behind the trees in the forest. It made sense, since the shard in Brela’s chest dulled his magic, but he had picked up faint noises as they tracked. Heletthem follow just to see if they were there to help Brela or to kill her. They hadn’t made a move yet, but there was still time before they made it to Aelstow and the task would become impossible.
It was just a beat, but Cason felt Brela’s heart skip despite her face remaining cold, still trying to protect them. She saw his lips twitch with the victory of reading her fear.
He expected the Night Terror to lash out at that. To show some piece of the fight she had unleashed on Gerrart’s home. He wanted to see her free herself from the chains on her wrists or break the prison wagon wall and live up to her name. He wanted to know how she had become the deadly assassin that gave nightmares to an entire kingdom.
Cason wanted to see what fury she could unleash from that fortress she claimed to have built in her mind.
Instead, Brela did something far, far worse than rage.
She was emotionless.
Not a single flinch of her body. Just deadly calm.
Four hells, he feltcold. He’d never felt cold before, and not when he was steaming in the humidity of Rooke’s forest. He’d never feltfearlike this before.
Her teeth bared as she spoke. “If you touch them—if asingle hairis out of place—I will make you suffer. I will carve my name in your bones and stake pieces of your body across the five remaining kingdoms so everyone knows what I am capable of.”
“If they attack the Prince of Severina’s convoy, they will be dealt with appropriately. They willingly aided a Veil Worshipper before tonight.”
Brela inhaled slowly, her voice careful and precise to hide her emotions. “I should have let you burn that ballroom instead of trying to calm you.” Her nostrils flared just slightly as she snorted, repeating his words from the festival. “‘I don’t care what you did, you don’t deserve that kind of treatment.’” She snorted again. “Oh, how the chivalrous Captain Valkip falls. None of my shortcomings bothered you before, not one bit, but this,”—she tapped the shard—“thisis all you see.”
“You’re an assassin from Valisea.”
“What choice did I have? I was forced to become this to protect myself,” Brela snapped. “I can’t hide. I can’t just take off a bracelet or necklace and pretend I’m not from Valisea. I ambranded. I’m forced to stand among my enemies every day, listen to them spit on my people, and I have tolaughwith them. I have to watch and cheer as they torture the families that didn’t escape like I did. I became this to make up for the guilt that I can’t stop the raids or torture of my people. This is my revenge.”
Cason shook his head and growled. “You and your people are curses. Tricksters. Murderers. You support a god with dark and evil magic that put up a wall to protect herself.”
“Have you ever been to Valisea?” Brela blurted. “Read a book from the Grand Library next to the clear waters of Calesevain Lake? Stood under the towers of the shadow temple and watched the sun set? Danced in the streets of Orhyrst under the stars?” She sucked in a breath. “No, you haven’t, because neither have I. The lake is red with the blood of our women and children. The crumbling towers at the shadow temple serve as whipping posts for my people. Orhyrst and the library are nothing but black ashes. All of it destroyed by magic wielders from the other kingdoms after they were convinced that the shadow-kind were evil because of the magic they possessed.”
Brela pulled her knees into her chest, staring at the black fabric. “I meant what I said earlier; magic isn’t good or bad. I’m not afraid of your fire, nor am I afraid of any magic. I’m afraid of the people who wield it with closed minds. I am afraid of the men and women of the remaining five kingdoms.” Her pale gaze lifted and locked on him. “I am afraid ofyou, Captain.”
Cason ground his teeth together. He didn’t have to listen to anything she said. Brela was a Veil Worshipper trained to kill. Her cold demeanor only confirmed what he already knew about her people. The cultists and cursed had murdered his mother. They’d killed soldiers, infiltrated kingdoms, and honored a corrupt god and a magic that was meant to trick.
Evil. All of them were evil.
Brela too.
