by Everly Frost
I feel sick. So sick.
The night on Mount Greylock replays on me in stormy flashes. Slade and I went there to fight the Furies and recover the verdan plant. When the Furies tried to kill Slade, they discovered that his blood contains Valkyrie power from the feather I used to heal him. That was when he told me that his brother was killed by a woman with wings. It had to be my mother, a fact that kills me, gripping my stomach like claws.
When Gareth showed up and tried to kill us, I had to reveal my wings to save us.
Now, Slade knows what I am. He knows I’m Valkyrie.
He also knows that I bonded with him. That I love him. And… he knows how to kill me. I offered him the Keres ring and he refused to take it. That was when he told me to go and never look back.
I wipe my mouth, gripping the edge of the sink so hard I’m in danger of cracking it. To bond and then leave is agony. I need to process the pain now or it will fester and tear me apart.
Unable to scream, I wobble from one side of the small space to the next, my head in my hands. I finally sway into the stream of water inside the shower, fully clothed. The dress plasters against my skin but I let the water run cold, standing beneath the needle-sharp spray until I’m shivering.
I welcome the numbing pain. I need to forget the feeling of Slade’s body next to mine, the intense need to be near him again. If I can do that, if I can block it out, bury it, then I can move on.
I’ll never be the same, but I’ll be able to function.
Over time, the pain will fade.
It has to.
I drag off the wet dress and my underwear, emerge from the shower, and wrap a towel around myself, creeping back into the bedroom. Retrieving the key to my trunk from a hidden compartment at the side, I quietly swing it open.
This wooden box contains everything I own—other than Mom’s money, which is tucked away in multiple bank accounts. My fingertips brush the surface of Mom’s ledger where it rests on top of my clothing. I can’t read it—only she could—but it’s my last connection with her.
Ah, my own clothes. I pull out a pair of comfortable pajamas. I’m too tired to make it back to the bathroom. I cast a furtive glance at the sleeping man in the corner before I drop the towel where I stand. I dress quickly and slide into the bed he vacated. The sharp scents of gunpowder and vodka fill my nose.
My head spins. I made it to the bed just in time.
Crying is my alcohol. I become a wobbly mess, completely uncoordinated. All I can do now is try to sleep and hope my unwelcome guest stays in his corner of the room. So far, he hasn’t moved a muscle so I hope I won’t have anything to worry about.
As my eyes close, I spy my dropped backpack and sword lying in the middle of the room.
Curses. I should have picked them up. I should… but… I’ll just close my eyes… for a moment…
Sunlight streams across my vision.
It feels like I was asleep for two seconds but the sun tells a different story. I rub my face, squinting, dragging my blurry focus from the open curtains at the side of the room to the figure sitting on the trunk in front of the window. His big body blocks some of the light but not all of it.
He promised he would leave as soon as he woke up but he’s still here…
My mystery guest leans forward, all seven foot of him, resting his elbows on his knees.
It’s what he holds in his hand that kicks my heart into double time and wakes me up with cracking speed.
Of all the things I didn’t want him to find…
I bolt upright. My head spins like mad. My hand slaps the wall at the head of the bed to keep myself from spinning into it.
His voice is clear and concise. Sharp. A far cry from the tired male he was in the night.
“Hunter, if this is what I think it is, you’re in deep trouble.”
Chapter Two
My response is a warbled objection. Crying has really taken its toll on me. I hate the way my voice reveals how shattered I am. “You had no right to go through my bag.”
He shrugs, unmoved by my indignation. “You left it in the middle of the floor. I almost stepped on it. When I moved it, behold, this fell out.”
The Clave rests in his fingertips. It is a single, copper feather—the birth feather of the last Keres—encased in a transparent resin formed from my mother’s dying blood.
He holds it carefully in his upturned palm. “I happen to know that Master Gareth cherishes this feather above every other possession. Since you have it, it means he’s dead or… you stole it and you’re about to bring a world of trouble down on yourself.”
“If I stole it, I’m not about to admit it, am I?”
My mystery guest sighs, unhappily. “So he’s not dead. Damn. I was hoping someone finally ended him. Not you, of course, because that wouldn’t be good for your health.”
My eyes widen. He’s talking about his own Master. “You want Master Gareth dead?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Wow, he’s blunt. It’s rare to meet someone so straight-forward, especially in the assassin’s world that is full of secrets.
He continues, “Since you’re here with this feather, I take it your bid for Master didn’t go so well.”
I scoot up the bed so I can rest against the wall to keep myself upright. Before Slade and I left the Realm, it was decided that whichever one of us returned with the verdan plant would be made Master. Slade doesn’t have the plant, but he was the only one who returned. The last I saw of him, he was binding Gareth, ready to take him back to the Realm in chains.
It is as it should be. Slade was meant to be Master. I never wanted that role.
I say, “I was never a contender for Legion Master.”
“That’s not what I heard.” He raises his eyebrows at me when I don’t respond. “Even the Dominion assassins were talking about it. The whisper is that Alexei Mason wanted to form an alliance with you.”
I ask, “The Dominion’s Heir Apparent?”
“He’s their new Master now. He was appointed a week ago.”
My question is cautious. “Why would Alexei Mason want to form an alliance with me?”
“With your history—your mother being a Rogue Master who knew her own mind—and your growing reputation as someone who thinks for herself, the whisper is he thought you might finally end the feud between the Factions.”
“Well, I guess that won’t happen now.” I remember what Master Gareth said in his office when he didn’t know I was listening—that Cain Carter and Alexei Mason don’t trust each other. I trust Cain so I guess I should be wary of the Dominion, but the secrets of my own life have taught me that I should always reserve judgment for myself.
I say, “I don’t know your name.”
“Call me ‘Vlad.’” He continues in the same breath, “What interests me more than this feather is the plant stashed in your bag.”
Great. This just gets better. The top of the verdan is visible from the open backpack lying on the floor, the plant’s ruby petals a stark contrast with the black canvas. The verdan’s sap can remove the resin from the feather so I can finally reveal the weapon Mom was protecting for nearly twenty years. It’s the only way I’ll be free from all the secrets in my life.
It’s a small mercy that the Keres ring hasn’t rolled out onto the floor. It would be difficult to explain why I have two assassin’s rings and I definitely don’t want anyone else getting their hands on it.
I briefly clasp the glass ring I wear on my left forefinger, finding strength in its comforting presence. It was the ring that Mom had forged so she wouldn’t be exposed to the sickening magic in the assassin’s rings.
Vlad says, “Verdan is the ultimate poison. Many assassins would kill to possess it. But I suspect you know that.”
“Would you?” I ask, since we’re being honest with each other. “Kill me for it, I mean?”
He surprises me by laughing. “I don’t want it. I prefer to kill with my hands. Or… if I’m in a hurry… wit
h a gun.”
He gestures to the bedside table where he left his weapon. I guess he did that to make me feel more secure since I can reach it before he can.
I say, “Well, the plant won’t do anyone any good. It’s protected by a spell that makes it completely untouchable.” I slide out of bed, my legs wobbling, an exasperated grumble on my lips. “I don’t care about the poison, but I do want the sap. But there’s no way through that protective shield so… um... oh…”
My cheeks flare as I realize that the buttons on my pajama shirt are mismatched. By lifting my hand to point at the verdan, a ginormous section of material just gaped open. Right at bust level. I drop my arm as fast as I can, but it only serves to unbalance me and I end up clutching the bedside table with one hand, supporting my pounding head with the other.
Vlad’s sole response to my display is a slightly raised eyebrow. “Looks like you had some difficulty dressing last night.”
Wow. He’s totally unmoved by the fact that I just flashed him a solid look at my lady parts. I’m impressed. He’s blunt and focused, and not easily distracted.
I sigh. “I need a shower.”
He grunts a response. “You need to wash off the tear tracks. They don’t suit you.” He stiffens a little as if he just replayed what he said in his mind. “That was intended as a compliment.”
“I’ll take it as one.” I eye the feather he’s still holding in his hand. I don’t want to turn my back on him until I know it’s safe. I square my shoulders. “You’re going to put that on the box and leave now.”
He ponders the Clave for a moment before raising himself off the trunk, saying, “I fully intended to leave this morning and never look back, but I think we can help each other.”
My eyes narrow, suspicious. “How?”
“I can help with the verdan.” He quickly lifts his free hand before I ask more questions. “First, get yourself cleaned up. We can talk over breakfast.”
It sounds like a perfectly reasonable proposal. A little too reasonable. This guy is like a hibernating bear, all calm and relaxed, but I have no doubt he will be unforgiving if provoked. If he was offering information about anything other than the verdan, I’d walk away, but the plant’s protective shield is a significant frustration.
He turns the Clave over in his hand and asks, far too casually, “If I walk out of this room with this feather right now, could you stop me?”
It’s a forthright question. Despite my determined glare, there’s no doubt he already knows the answer. The fact that I’m clutching the doorframe is a dead give away.
I respond with the same directness he has shown me. “I couldn’t.”
“Well, then.” He stands, takes the feather to my satchel, places it inside, and brings the whole thing to me, waiting for me to take it.
I stare at my bag in surprise before gathering it into my arms.
He says, “Assassins never trust each other. Let’s make this a first step in that direction.”
He gives me a quick nod before relocating to the far side of the room to where his own belongings are contained in a large satchel.
I close the door and drop my bag in the corner behind it so that if Vlad does anything sneaky, like opening the door, the satchel will end up trapped in the corner behind it. Not that I’m expecting him to do anything underhanded after that gesture. He’s had plenty of opportunities to attack me and hasn’t.
I rip off my pajamas and stand under the shower. Cold water doesn’t work as well as it used to. There’s a painful hole in my heart that can’t be numbed and never will be. I have to live with it now, just like I have to live with the gap in my wings where one of my feathers used to be. The question is how badly the hole in my heart will fester. How much it will change me.
Dressing as quickly as I can in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, I return to the bedroom to find two plates on the small table, both piled with bacon and eggs, a bowl of fruit perched at the side and… oh my… coffee! I make a beeline for it, inhaling as I draw the cup to my lips.
Vlad leans back in one of the chairs, an intrigued smile playing with his lips. “They don’t serve coffee in the Realm, do they?”
I pause while the liquid sloshes against my top lip. “Not a drop.”
He seems far too pleased that he hooked me with it. He’s definitely trying to butter me up for something. I put the cup down without drinking from it, showing him that I won’t be bought. I’ll have to make do with coffee fumes instead.
I ignore my rumbling stomach while I remain standing, maintaining my distance. “Tell me exactly how you think we can help each other.”
“You want to get through the protective spell around the verdan. I can tell you how.”
I squash my rising optimism before he sees it. I need to maintain a level negotiating field. “In return for what?”
“I’ll tell you, but first I have a question.”
“What is it?”
He asks, “Is Slade Baines the new Master of the Legion?”
Just hearing Slade’s name hurts. I flinch and it doesn’t escape Vlad’s notice but he doesn’t say anything.
I keep the emotion out of my voice. “Slade took Gareth back in chains two nights ago after Gareth tried to kill us. The Guardian and Cain Carter were waiting for one of us to return so, yes, Slade is now the Legion Master.”
Vlad purses his lips. “You weren’t exaggerating when you said you had a bad night.”
I say, “Deception may be my friend, but I don’t often exaggerate.”
“Noted.”
I consider his thoughtful frown. I ask, “If you help me remove the protective shield from the verdan, what do you want in return?”
He leans forward. “I need an audience with Slade and Cain. I have important information that they both need to hear. Can you get me in to see them?”
My stomach sinks. His request is a difficult one. I can’t go back to the Realm. I have to stay away from Slade. When Valkyries bond, we’re supposed to remain near our bonded partner until we can separate without pain. I wrenched myself away from Slade after only a day. I don’t know what will happen if I see him again.
On top of that, I stole both the verdan and the Clave. It’s possible that Slade will tell everyone that the verdan was destroyed but Gareth could accuse me of stealing the Clave and Slade will be honor-bound as Master of the Legion to take action against me.
Despite all that, I need the verdan sap and I’m annoyed to admit I have no idea how to get it.
I counter Vlad’s request with a question. “Why can’t you go to the Realm yourself?”
He shifts, appearing uncomfortable for the first time. “I may have had a falling out with Master Gareth and now the Realm won’t open for me.”
I sigh. It’s time to take a seat. I fold my arms across my chest and sink into the chair. “I don’t think I can help you. I stole the feather so there’s a big risk that I’ll be apprehended as soon as I step foot in the Realm.”
“What if I told you that I can take care of that problem for you?”
I frown at him. “How? You said you can’t get into the Realm, but you can somehow protect me from retribution for stealing the feather?”
He is back to his confident self. He rubs his hand over his shaved head, a smug smile on his lips. “I guarantee I can.”
I wait for him to elaborate. Frustratingly, he doesn’t.
He leans forward again, elbows on the table, and asks, “Unless there’s another reason you don’t want to go back?”
I exhale slowly. I have a choice to make. How badly do I want the sap versus… how badly do I need to stay away from Slade? Can I stand in the same space as him and not be torn apart from the inside?
I have to do it. I need the sap. The alternative is to run and hide for the rest of my life.
I never hide. And I’m already sick of running.
Or… I could beat the answer out of Vlad. I pretend to study the coffee cup, flicking a casual glance at hi
m to ascertain his position on his chair, his balance, the location of his fists and legs. I play it out in my mind: I could pull the table out from under him, he would go down, and his head would meet my boot. But he won’t be much use to me unconscious. I need him to talk.
He reads my mind. He may be a big, dangerous bear but he’s perceptive, I’ll give him that. He shifts away from me, slides one hand down to his thigh, pulls the gun out of the holster, and places it on the table. He positions it with the handle toward me.
Damn him. He’s daring me to take it.
He keeps his tone casual. “Trust is a tricky thing, Hunter. Like I said, I know who you are. I know what you’re capable of. But you need to know that I’m deadly serious about talking with Slade and Cain. Lives depend on it. More lives than you know. I won’t help you unless you help me.”
I wasn’t expecting him to talk about lives being at risk. Let alone say so much about it. The mere fact that he’s strung so many words together tells me how serious he is.
I ask, “What’s going on, Vlad?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say anything until I speak with Slade and Cain.”
I contemplate him for a moment while I decide what to do. What he says about trust is true. It can take years to build but can be ripped apart in seconds.
Like Slade when he found out I’m Valkyrie…
I need to start building bridges, not tearing them down.
I say, “I will help you. But I need you to carry out your part of the bargain first—tell me how to remove the verdan’s shield and then I’ll take you to the Realm.”
He presses his lips together. He doesn’t look happy.
I persist. “We can’t do both things at once. One of us has to trust the other. I won’t break my word. I will get you into the Realm.”
His lips twist into a wry line. “Says she who lies.”
I shrug. “Don’t we all?”
“I prefer to keep my words to a minimum. There’s less call for deception that way.”
Come to think of it, he’s been completely open with me so far, which only makes me scowl. So he’s an honest, old bear. Actually… maybe not so old.
