Chapter 1
Roksana
Truso was beautiful in the winter. I was looking out through the window, hoping the gentle light of the moon would brighten my mood. Nothing, not even the serene, sparkling snow on the rooftops, eased the sense of dread building in my core since learning of Mlot’s invasion.
My workshop was my sanctuary. Here, I could escape the pressures of life. Still, the fae lamps surrounding me couldn’t banish the darkness lurking in my mind. I was safe while Rey was not. Behind this heavy wooden table, the shelves filled with books and experiments, nothing could harm me.
‘Roksana.’
The softly spoken word came from the door, and my sense of safety shattered like the vial that slipped from my grasp and broke on the floor.
‘Veles’ balls!’ I coughed, eyes tearing as the half-made poison filled the room with noxious fumes. Jagon’s dry tone, the voice that had scolded me countless times, was unmistakable. I just didn’t know why he was here.
With my hands still trembling, I grasped the cord to open the small vent above me, yanking it angrily to disperse the smoke. Tova’s inventive approach to alchemy’s pungent problems saved my blurring vision.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I said, turning towards Jagon, grasping another vial of poison. He moved closer, carefully studying me, as if expecting an attack.Good. You’ve learned to be wary of me.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then again, but the anger in my veins refused to abate. The sad remains of the concoction I’d been making hissed and bubbled, scarring the tiles, but I wasn’t worried about the poison, not when real danger stood before me.
‘Jagon, I won’t ask again. Tell me what you want and get your sorry arse out of my house before I kill you.’ It wasn’t an empty threat. Not here, not in my sanctuary, and he knew it. Yet he’d come alone, and this, more than anything else, gave me pause.
My former master looked around the room, and the corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Impressive workshop, my dear. I can offer something so much better. Pack your essentials and make haste. We need to go.’
I snorted sourly, shaking my head. ‘Did the poisons you work with finally melt your brain? What in Svarog’s name makes you think I’d ever go with you?’
Jagon’s head snapped back towards me. His expression was as haughty as usual, his spine straight as if fused to a steel rod, but I noticed how haggard he looked. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes bruised, and a deep frown seemed to be permanently etched on his forehead. Then it struck me. He didn’t just look tired; he looked afraid.
He sighed in exasperation. ‘I’m trying to save your life. This isn’t a war Reynard can win, even with your help.’
‘Because you know all about the art of war.’ I shrugged, but the way he said it set off every warning bell in my head.
‘War, no, but I’ve seen what he’s up against. I saw the galleons in the South, while you don’t even know who the real enemy is, woman!’ He stepped closer, eyes boring into mine with a silent plea. ‘Whatever else you think, you’re still my apprentice, and I want you to survive.’
I stepped forward, face flushed in anger. After all those years of abuse, he wanted me to survive? Now? Then he’d better start spilling his secrets. ‘Tell me then, Master, what are you so afraid of? What is worse than a fractured court and a dwarven army?’
Jagon placed his hand on my cheek, and my mouth opened in shock. He’d never touched me like this, not with this softening expression, eyes resting on my lips. I shivered but held my tongue, trying to ignore the sour taste in my mouth.
‘Cocky as always, Roksana.’ He sighed, thumb stroking my cheek. ‘You think you know it all, simply because your friend stole some schemata, and your king has his army… What if I said there are traps all over the city? That Mlot’s mines are empty, and the real enemy isn’t who you think it is?’
‘What traps?’
‘Tut, tut, tut. Truso is beyond saving. I came for you. Only you.’ Jagon’s fingers tightened on my face. ‘We can start anew. I won’t even hold this fling with Reynard against you.’
Pure, unfiltered rage filled my mind at that statement, but the need to find out what he knew was stronger than my repulsion to his touch. ‘I already know about Tivala… but if you tell me everything, I can guarantee your safety. After all, we’re both assassins. Everyone in the Brotherhood knows all dark deeds can be washed clean when you have something valuable to sell.’
Jagon’s hand trembled. ‘Safety? Survival? Unless you know how to fight the Void and disable the Wey Gates, Dagome will never be safe. Not that you have the schemata to do that.’ Hisnostrils flared as he pulled me close to his chest, but I was more focused on his mention of the Wey Gates.
Has Tivala recruited the fae, or has he found a way to use the portal gates without them?As far as I knew, the Care’tavos and Lumivitae fae were our allies. ‘Then help me. Help Dagome. You wanted to be the Grand Master. Prove to Boyan you can be trusted.’ I could have sworn I saw Jagon hesitate, but it was so brief I might have imagined it.
‘I have no time for your games,’ he said, his hand moving from my face to my arm. ‘Let’s go.’
‘No!’
He never saw it coming; even I was surprised by my reaction. The next thing I knew, my former master was staggering back, bleeding from a wound in his side. I looked down in shock and dropped the bloody paring knife I’d grabbed from my table by instinct.
‘You stupid bitch. I’m trying to save you from being burned at the stake!’ he said, blood dripping from between his fingers.
‘By forcing me to wear your leash? No thank you. I’d rather die than be near you.’ I fell silent as two men entered the workshop.
