“Good gods,” Serill whispered, poking the fresh hellthorn plant. Well, it had been fresh. Now it dripped with melting ice, its browned leaves breaking off the stem and littering the space around the safe. “What theories are you cooking in that brain, Case?”
“One person,” Cason said, keeping his voice low so Gerrart wouldn’t hear. “Earth-blessed with strength. The ice might indicate a second earth-kind, or one with multiple affinities, but I’m not entirely convinced with Rooke’s markets.”
“For magic-blessed objects?” Serill asked.
Cason nodded. The market for magic-blessed stones, trinkets, and jewelry existed in every kingdom. Cities thrived off the trade of their magic, infusing the objects with whispers of their power. It wouldn’t be hard to come by a water-blessed object in Rooke, and it would be much cheaper here than any other city, just like a sun-blessed object would fetch a higher price in the forest or a moon-blessed trinket would cost a fortune in Anfroy.
His eyes darted to the ground, silver glinting as Serill shifted out of the candlelight. Cason leaned down, plucking the small throwing knife out from underneath shredded books. The design was traditional, but the weight told a different story. Only a trained individual would wield a blade like this one.
Why havethisknife when earth-blessed strength would be better served with a large blade, like the machete and mace used downstairs, or the dozens of blades that tore up the desk and floorboards? Another person? It would explain the missing artifacts from the prince’s room on the other side of the house. Two people could cover more ground, but the target of their thieving was clear.
“Whoever came in here wanted what was in this safe specifically. The rest was just a bonus.” He studied the small knife in his hand before lifting it to the shelves and broken book spines. Perfect match. This was the blade that had tried to mimic a celvusa’s claw. “Who knew about Gerrart’s trophy?”
“I’m sure all the same players,” Serill replied, watching him carefully. “The collectors from Rooke and Anfroy, a few from Itherel, and then myself in Severina.” He frowned. “You think it was one of the Rooke collectors trying to beat the bidding war?”
“Ithinkthis doesn’t make sense,” the captain grumbled, flipping the blade between his fingers. Gods, it was a gorgeous thing. He fought the temptation to test the knife against the far wall. He also fought the instinct to chuck it at the body that had joined them upstairs before he registered the shaking limbs of a frightened man. “Why did they make such a dramatic point? The destruction, the black liquid, breaking seals to make it look like a celvusa… it wasted time, which meant they had planned to rob Gerrart tonight. They knew exactly where to look, exactly where to take out the staff with poisons, but Gerrart only announced his specific trophy a week ago. You can’t put all this together overnight, which meant the person has been here before and had prepared for this break in.”
The prince’s eyes widened. “Someone targeted Gerrart, not the dagger specifically.”
“Because they also knewyouwere staying here,” Cason added. “They knew about Gerrart’s private safe, and they knew about his superstitions, which meant they chose tonight specifically because of his Veil collections and your stay. They knew we’d be busy at the Festival and would have the time to pull this off.”
Serill gasped. “A Veil sympathizer in Rooke?”
Cason shrugged. “Worshipper, sympathizer, they’re the same thing at this point. Someone is targeting artifact collectors or supporters of Anfroy and Rooke’s raids.”
“There are whispers of an assassin in Averlyn called the Night Terror,” Gerrart said from behind them. Serill jumped at the noise but Cason remained still. “The name seems to come up more often around the robberies of Veil artifacts, but those men didn’t have the protections or the money like the rest of us. The finola poison is new, but earth-blessed strength and water have been found at those… scenes.”
“Averlyn?” Serill asked. “That village south of Dredon?” He paused. “It would make sense. There was a lively market the other morning when we passed through. I bet that’s where the thief is getting those water stones.”
Cason shook his head at the information the prince hadn’t quite picked up on. “Not just a thief, Serill.Assassin.”
Serill paled as Gerrart nodded. “It seems someone with deep pockets has hired our assassin to target the bigger players in the game.”
“What happened to the other men?” Serill asked, his voice quiet.
Cason didn’t need his sun-blessed gifts to pick up on the clench of Gerrart’s jaw or the flash of fear that was back in his gaze. The earth-blessed warrior had gone to battle, wet his blade with blood and seen unspeakable horrors, but the Night Terror frightened him the most. Possibly even more than his fear of the mythical celvusa.
Because the assassin was real.
This break in was meant to send a message to Gerrart—not to kill him, but to make a point. To make himafraid. To make the man who hunted Veil Worshippers and stole their artifacts go from superstitious to paranoid. To taunt him before the assassin was hired to killed him and every other collector in gruesome ways.
And the man Cason was sworn to protect would be one of the Night Terror’s targets.
Cason clapped Serill on the back, causing his friend to flinch. “Well, Prince, it seems I’ll be traveling to Averlyn in the morning to hunt an assassin.”
4
Found Family
Agods-damned celvusa.
Brela had laughed the entire walk home, one hand pressed against the slice along her neck that continued to gush blood while the other clung to Night Carver.
She’d fought for dominance over the Veil Scholar’s blade with a gods-damned celvusa.
And she’d won.
It should have cost her more than just the slice in her neck and the chill that didn’t seem to leave her chest. That’s all she could think about as Farrah’s fingers curled around her hands, giving her the black and purple silks and loose coins she had stolen back from the Prince of Severina. Brela could only blink as Elias applied the salves and herbs around the wound in her neck to help speed up Farrah’s healing magic.
