A Girl in Black and White (Alyria Book 2)

by Danielle Lori

  “No, you’ll only have me sharing every foolish thing I’ve done in my life. We’d be here for fucking hours.”

  I got to my feet and opened the cell door, being that it was only locked with nothing but a charm. It creaked as it opened, and Maxim’s back tensed with the sound.

  “No. I know all I need to know now, thank you. But I am leaving.”

  And then it happened so fast, the breath slammed out of me. The iron bars hit my back, while a forearm pressed against my throat; it wasn’t a painful pressure, but it was a meaningful one.

  I raised my hand and blew the rest of my powder in his face; there was little left, but it should have been enough to knock him out. Color me shocked when he blinked, shook his head slightly, and then pressed harder against my throat.

  “Short memory, Calamity? I’ve trained as a Titan. I’ve taken every known poison each day for years. They do not affect me.”

  Damn every prince to hell.

  “It would take one thought to end this life of yours,” he said, and I became blatantly aware of his bare forearm across my throat, “if I so much as even think you are using magic.”

  I breathed shallowly as though if I took even too deep a breath, it would make his touch lethal.

  “You haven’t been addressing me respectfully.”

  I glanced up at him with widened eyes. Was that really important? By all, you just couldn’t take the prince out of the man. I couldn’t get enough air in his presence, it seemed; his body twice as big and closeting me in. And maybe I was dreadfully terrified of what his hands could do with only a thought.

  He looked at me with contempt as if he could see the witch in his proximity. “You’ve forgotten what I am.”

  My eyes hardened. “I assure you, I have not.”

  A familiar burn in my palms and chest sent the feeling of blessed relief through me. Thank you, Alyria.

  “Why shouldn’t I kill you?”

  “Because I promise you, you won’t get out of this ship alive, if you do.” I flashed my eyelashes with a smile as an oil lamp lighting the hull, suddenly burst into flames, catching a wooden crate on fire.

  He barely seemed surprised, but his forearm pressed harder against my throat. “I told you I would kill you if you did magic.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you want something from me. How would you get it if you killed me?”

  The fire spread across the stairs, blocking the exit, and licking up the wall.

  His jaw tightened when he realized who had the upper hand here, and while he was the one in the position to snap my neck, I was the one in control. And he didn’t like it.

  He let out a frustrated growl. “I fucking hate witches.”

  I pursed my lips, before supplying, “Me too.”

  “That . . . brothel you’re living in, my guess is it’s a Sister cult.”

  “How on Alyria did you figure that out?” I said dryly.

  “Woman . . .” He exhaled an agitated breath. “Maybe you do not realize how stubborn I can be. Before I came here, I ordered my men that if I did not come out, to kill every woman in that brothel.”

  My fight dissipated. “You’re bluffing.”

  The room grew hot, the flames licking higher than our heads, as the smoke began to build in the air.

  “How would you know? Even if I didn’t, they know where you live. They would be sure to investigate . . . and once they found out the truth of the women you live with . . .” he drifted off, saying everything with his silence.

  I gritted my teeth. “What do you want?”

  “A favor.”

  “What favor?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  I paused, coughing on a bit of smoke. I might have been able to manipulate fire, but smoke still affected me like everyone else.

  “No,” I replied automatically.

  “Do you understand what it’s like to die under my touch? You think it’s painless? It’s not. It feels like thousands of tiny knives slicing your insides.”

  “I am not afraid of you.”

  “Maybe not, but do you want to subject the women you live with to it?”

  “Okay, Maxim.” He narrowed his eyes as I didn’t “address him respectfully.” Too bad. “I agree, under two conditions.”

  He raised a brow.

  “I want to know if Weston is coming to the Kings Festival, and also your promise not to tell him about me.”

  He watched me for a moment. “No, he won’t be here. I invited all the royals, and Weston declined, didn’t even give a reason like anyone else would out of propriety. In fact, he wrote, ‘Will your head be on a pike? That’s the only cause for celebration I can think of.’”

  “We have something in common, it seems,” I muttered. “Will you tell him?”

  He chewed his cheek, thinking about it. “No. That would bring trouble I don’t need.”

  The church bell rang, and the sun was starting to pour into the tiny barred window. I was going to be late again. “The seal? You aren’t concerned about it? Would it not solve your problem to open it?”

  “If you were going to open it by now, you would have. And no, I’d rather not destroy the land for something I can accomplish without.”

  I rolled his answer around, reading his sincerity. “Okay, fine. I agree to your terms. One favor and you’ll leave the Royal Affair alone.”

  He slowly released me, and I fought the impulse to rub my throat. For a minute, I panicked, thinking that I couldn’t manipulate the fire enough for us to get out, but with a cold sweat of relief, my magic appeared in that tell-tale heat inside me. The flames parted from the stairs. “Well, thanks for the evening, Maxim. If I ever find another man as courteous as you, it shall be a miracle.”

  His hand wrapped around my wrist—not trusting me to keep the flames from closing in on him—and followed me up the stairs.

  “Can you not put the fire out?” he asked as we reached the top deck, a plain white sail blowing in the wind.

  I thought about it for a moment, before agreeing. The flames slowly dissipated until only smoke was visible through the stairway. I gave him my back, making to leave.

  “You owe me. Don’t think to renege.” I heard the subtle threat in his voice loud and clear.

  “Can’t wait,” I said cheerily. “Goodbye, Maxim.”

  “Calamity.”

  I didn’t know if his one-word greetings and farewells were part of his culture or just because he was used to not acknowledging those below him. Though, what he described of his younger life didn’t sound like how I’d always imagined princes were treated.

  A few Untouchables waited in front of the ship, eyeing me with disdain—knowing I was a Sister, it seemed. And realizing I just tried to kill their prince.

  Once Maxim walked off the ramp, and stood next to them, the sudden burn in my chest grew from the anger of getting caught—and so, I let it all out. Three oil lamps in the ship exploded, wooden pieces flying by my head as I walked down the dock without looking back. A smile pulled on my lips as debris hit the water on both sides of me with a splash.

  I could feel his anger hit my back with the heat of the flames.

  And damn did it feel good.

  “YES,” I groaned. “So good. So, so good.”

  “Sweet Alyria, girl. Have you not eaten in a week?”

  “Practically,” I muttered, sitting on The Three Cups’ counter and shoving another bite of stew in my mouth. This meat was real, actual venison. In my mouth.

  Sunny eyed me. “They not getting enough business over there at the Royal Affair? I can find you a couple patrons right now.”

  “No,” I said, almost choking on my food. “No need to do that.”

  “All right, darlin’. You just let me know. No reason a girl like you should be starving.”

  Tell that to Agnes . . .

  I’d gotten home in time for breakfast, without even alerting my High Sister that I’d been kn
ocked out and held in a cell by the Untouchable Prince running the city. Though, she did shoot me some suspecting glances as I about fell asleep at the table twice.

  I grabbed at the piece of bread sitting beside me when a furry hand reached it first. Tash took a big, dramatic bite out of it, letting me know exactly how he felt about me eating his food. Ugh, thankfully Alger never had monkeys.

  A king’s guard stepped into the tavern. He wore a hauberk and a surcoat over it with Symbia’s golden eagle insignia on the front just as they all did. I was glad I was a woman because that heavy clothing looked miserable in this heat.

  I chewed, watching him make his way through the small crowd of men sitting at the tables getting something to eat for the midday meal. The hardened sailors watched him like he was a boy playing dress-up as a man. A little amusement bubbled inside me. Because that’s all it really took to be a Symbian knight.

  The king’s guard nailed a poster to the wall, turned like he was supposed to announce something, but when he barely got a glance from the sailors, closed his mouth and walked out. I finished my soup, eyeing the new poster:

  ‘Five-hundred silvers for the Girl in Black,’ it read.

  Apparently Maxim didn’t tell the magistrate about me. Surprising after that little incident with his boat.

  “I think that girl’s got a thing against ships,” Maranda said as she walked by with an armful of dirty bowls. She was one of the barmaids who worked here; middle-aged, and had a boy who sometimes came along to play with Henry. Wherever that kid was.

  I glanced at Tash digging in a bowl of nuts on the counter; he shoved his fingers in his mouth and then put them back in the bowl. My nose wrinkled in disgust and, when he glanced up and saw it, he made sure to lick each finger.

  “Where’s your master?” I asked him.

  He glanced around the tavern, a frown pulling at his lips before jumping off the counter and leaving the room.

  I finished off my soup, thinking about the man last night with the brand. In fact, I needed to go to the library to see if I could find any information on it.

  I hopped off the counter, and when my eyes came up to the door, my heart froze, icy cold, my breath catching in my throat. I dropped my bowl and spun around so that my back was to the room. I grasped the edges of the counter as if to steady myself. Because the man who stood just across the room . . . he killed me once.

  He hadn’t seen me, but just being in his proximity, sent a shard of pain through my stomach. I could almost feel the blade slide in, hear the ringing in my ears, the blood drip, drip, drip.

  “You okay, darlin’?” Sunny asked, coming out of the kitchens.

  I nodded. “This girdle’s just a bit too tight. Gonna get some air,” I told her, heading through the kitchen and out the back door. I leaned against the back of the tavern, sucking in deep breaths.

  It seemed that Roldan found a new ship. I’d noticed earlier as it sat in the harbor. Hell, he was a prince—he had his own fleet.

  Why wasn’t he docking in the Northie harbor? Why wasn’t he drinking ale in a northern tavern? This side of the city was meant for the commoners, and it was mine. He could take his murdering-prince-self over to the stone-paved streets near the palace. He wasn’t welcome here.

  These thoughts consumed me most of the day. My reaction to him earlier had been so visceral, I couldn’t stop it. It made nausea churn in my stomach, my heart pumping resentment, not blood.

  I didn’t want to hate him for something he did to save his daughter, but the revulsion I felt in his presence was uncontrollable and stirred something inside of me. Truthfully, it made me wonder if Weston had allowed his brother to do it. If he just stepped aside. How else couldn’t he know his brother was in the area? He was too good to beat. That stirred the revulsion in me.

  “He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not,” Juliana echoed as she pulled petals off a rose, letting them fall over the rail of the loft and onto the floor below. “He loves me, he loves—”

  “For heaven’s sakes, Juli,” Magdalena snapped. “He doesn’t love you!”

  To be honest, I was close to saying the same thing. She was breaking my concentration as I read a book I’d just gotten from the library. Voids were people who could brand themselves with certain enchantments that repelled magic. Each brand stopped one form of magic, and only the strongest could handle more than a couple.

  So that man had one against compulsion. And I would never know a Void when I saw one unless I made him strip where he stood to look him over. I would just have to be more careful; in fact, I should just take a pause on the Girl in Black antics as long as there was a five-hundred silver award on my head.

  The soft tune of the organ flowed down the hall from the music room where Marlena was playing. She could manipulate feelings through her music, but I thought she left us to our bickering devices most of the time.

  “You’ve only met him a few times,” Farah said, as she lay on the chaise. “He doesn’t love you, or you him.”

  The sweltering heat had us all fanning our faces and lazier than a whore on a Sunday. Well, at least the ones working at this brothel; we were closed on Sundays. The Lord’s day and all. Bad form to be whoring.

  “Love isn’t measured in time,” Juli replied.

  I could feel the eye-rolls go around at that one.

  Once a month, there was a gathering where possible future pledges came to meet us girls. We were supposed to dress nice and be on our best behavior. It felt like a bride auction, and I hated it. The men walked around, conversed, and were nice, but I thought they were only getting us to talk so that they could investigate our teeth and learn about our gifts and how it could benefit them. I wanted nothing to do with it, and I didn’t blame Agnes one bit for not marrying and instead becoming a High Sister. Though, neither option seemed to be that satisfying. And I’d screwed up too many times for High Sistership to be a possibility.

  “He won’t even give you a glance,” Farah returned. “You have no magic, and that’s all he’s interested in.”

  Juli’s eyes narrowed. “How can you say that about him? I’m sorry that you all find love so disgusting, but I do not. And I don’t think Alis does either.”

  I rolled my eyes, flipping a page. “And when did you think he was a romantic? When he handed you his wine glass to hold so that he could go speak with one of the other girls? Or when he invited Carmella to that play on the square after you asked him if he’d like to go with you?”

  She shook her head, getting flustered. “He only does that because he has to make an interest in all of the girls to know who’s the best match.” She paused. “Maybe if I just bed him he’ll realize that we’re meant to be together.”

  Sinsara nodded from her spot on the floor while Carmella sat on the chaise behind her braiding Sin’s long black hair. “That is the way men can be certain.” She said it with mischief, and I looked up from my book, giving her a glare.

  I glanced around the room, and most of the other girls seemed to be with Sinsara on this—and amused at the possibility of how this would play out. Sarai lay on the floor, too immersed in a gossip rag to have an opinion.

  “I really don’t think that will work, to be honest, Juli,” I said blandly.

  Magdalena fanned her face in this oppressive heat, and apparently feeling bad about not speaking up before, said, “That’s a silly idea, Juliana. Every woman knows if you want to keep a man, you have to keep your legs closed to get him.”

  Juli scowled. “Because you’re one to talk.”

  “I don’t expect love out of what I do. That’s the difference.”

  Sinsara snorted. “You won’t get much out of it but the Pox with the sailors you choose.”

  “You can chastise me after you’ve been with a man who’s been on a ship without another woman for the four months it takes to get back from Elian. You’ll never go back,” Magdalene replied dreamily.

  “Sarai,” Carmella said, “does that gossip rag have th
e announcement for the festivities tomorrow?”

  “No, the only thing that’s in today’s is the news about our Prince Weston killing his father, the King.”

  It took me a moment to process that and then my eyes widened. “What?” escaped my lips, just as five more sounded throughout the room. Everyone’s eyes shot to Sarai, as she pulled a loose parchment from the middle of the gossip rag.

  “Says he killed him.” She shrugged. “Looks like it too.” She turned around the drawing of a Titan Prince I used to know, holding his father’s head by the hair.

  My heart stilled. Earlier, curiosity had overwhelmed me, and I’d asked the librarian about who drew the posters around town. Well, they were drawn by painters in our magic capital, Rainer, who could remember the slightest detail of an actual moment. The picture Sarai was holding was real, and my stomach turned at the cold look in Weston’s eyes.

  “Our Prince is a king!” Juliana exclaimed.

  “No, he’s not. That’s not how it works in Titan, Juli,” Magdalena said.

  “Then how does it work, miss know-it-all?”

  “There’s a tourney for the position. Whoever wins gets the crown.”

  Juli rolled her eyes. “Our Prince will win, no doubt.”

  I tuned them out after that and headed to my room when they began to pass the poster around. Leaning against the closed door, I fought the strange feeling in my chest. The man responsible for my death was now dead. I should have felt free, liberated. But strangely enough, I’d never felt a certain Titan’s grip on me tighter.

  I’d thought escaping Weston would save the land and myself. But now that I was doing it all on my own, I’d learned that freedom is nothing but a dream. That once you think you’ve found it, you realize that freedom doesn’t taste so free. That what we have now is only newer chains than what we had then.

  The Southie streets were still. I could almost see the dust settling back down after the long day of preparing for the festival.

  Laughter and heavily drunken voices rose and then faded as I walked past a mainland tavern and in the direction I saw the menagerie was being set up.