Blake sent his knives to slaughter the prisoners, slitting their throats with lightning speed. Blood poured over the sand. Thecrowd exploded into thunderous applause at the powerful display of precision and brutality.
The Ambush Master’s face had stayed utterly impassive even as his cloak turned crimson.
I’d had the fortune ofnotbeing anywhere near Blake Axefire since, had lain low when his Tyger Warriors swept through to check up on Azures, looking for Ironstorm dissenters or hidden strongholds. Now I’d managed to not only garner his unwanted attention but also piss him off.
My only hope was that seeing my weak magic markings would make him lose interest and he’d forget about me.
The cold night air cut through my cloak as I stepped into the woods. Frost clung to the ground, sharp beneath my boots. The moonlight was thin and scattered, and I hated how exposed I felt.
The woods were too quiet. No birds, no branches creaking, no wind. Just the sound of my own breathing and the blood pounding in my ears. My fingers were stiff, but I didn’t loosen my grip on the dagger. Less because of my encounter with the Ambush Master and more because of my recently growing awareness that something much worse could lurk in the shadows.
A demon.
Some said that a refugee village in the Silver Tyger Dominion had been completely decimated. Every living creature, human or animal, had been drained. All Azures, which meant there had been no uproar at the loss of life, no protection offered to those of us who lived here still. Barely a burial or remembrance.
This dominion belonged to the Silvers, and metal magic ruled. Azures like me worked their farms, cleaned their stables, broke our backs for them, and were still considered nothing better than a necessary evil.
The trees finally broke, and I stepped into the clearing whereour little hut stood. Beams of light peeked through the gaps in the walls.
When I pushed open the warped wooden door, the scent of our usual gruel hit me first. I was grateful for the scallion pancakes Quinn had shared, and the extra I had taken for Edith. Then the softer scent of incense, faint and floral, drifted through the air. The smoke curled toward the ceiling in pale threads. I stepped inside, and the tight grip on my chest started to loosen.
The fire crackled low, and the flicker of candlelight cast gentle shadows across the walls, wrapping the room in the quiet hush of night. Our cat, Couscous, was curled up by the fire, fast asleep.
Edith was balanced on a rickety stool in front of the red altar set high against the back wall. It was the only color in the room. The small figure of Kuan Yin sat draped in gold, calm and kind, hands lifted in blessing on her lotus throne.
For the first time that night, I felt calm wash over me.
Edith was my safe place. She’d held my hand when I awoke on the boat, lost and scared. And she’d never let go of it since.
Her cheeks were warm from whatever tea she had on the fire. I suspected from smell alone it was one of her brews for Quinn’s father. He’d been ill when they’d left the Azure Dominion, and Edith had helped him on the boat. She continued to care for his chronic pain—and in return, Quinn brought us food and hand-me-down clothing. He watched over us.
Edith pressed her palms together, lips moving in a silent prayer. The scent of sandalwood stirred something deep in me that I couldn’t name. With a soft breath, she blew out the incense. Her hands were steady as she placed the joss sticks in the holder. She always did this: no matter how cold the nights were, no matter how empty our pantry, no matter how much her joints throbbed. She prayed. She gave thanks.
The stool gave a sharp creak, and my whole body went tense. “Edith, get down from there before you break your neck.”
She turned and smiled at me. “Oh, hush. I’m fine. I’m the one who trains you every morning, remember?”
“Stubborn, too.” I helped her down, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. Edith might have taught me the moves I used on Axefire, but it didn’t stop me worrying about her. “You shouldn’t have waited for me.”
“I was just lighting some incense to pray for a safe passage home for you.” Despite a few gray strands threaded through her navy hair, her face held a gentle beauty: cheekbones high, mouth soft, her dark brown eyes steady and warm. “How did it go?”
A flash of angry ice blue eyes, bronze hair, and a whispered threat lingered in my mind.
“Fine,” I said, keeping my voice steady as I offered a calm smile. I tugged at the patched dress wrapped around her thin frame. “This isn’t warm enough for you.”
“Stop fussing,” she said with a soft laugh.
She carried the pot of gruel to our crooked table. Without a word, she ladled some into my bowl, then reached for the jar of pickled radish we’d been saving, adding a few pieces to my bowl, not hers.
I waited until she sat down before I ladled gruel into her bowl. Then I placed the scallion pancake I’d gotten from Quinn beside it.
“I stuffed myself at the tavern,” I lied.
She gave me a tired smile as she tucked her legs under the bench and we began to eat.
She started telling me about one of our chickens. “Oh, Rainbow is going to be the death of me. I almost tripped over her when I was repairing the fence. She kept trying to go through solid wood.”
“I’m not sure Rainbow’s the brightest light in the lantern,” I muttered, licking my spoon.
