The silence in the room was palpable. Having a clear shot, Malachai swung his sword toward her throat, but he was much too slow.
She dropped to the ground and kicked his legs out from under him, yanking the sword from his hand when he hit the floor. Before he could react, she stabbed him through the heart with practiced precision. Within seconds, his body went limp, and his eyes drained of their shock.
Women screamed, and the men fumbled for their weapons, having long lost control over their bodies to intoxication.
She snaked through the crowd like a poisonous shadow, soundlessly and quickly killing them all before they knew what was happening. Within a few minutes, the room was full of corpses. Orbs of light drifted up from their empty bodies – or as folk of the Underworld called them, “Shells” – floating away into nothing as the darkness absorbed them and welcomed them home.
Everyone was dead. All but Gerard, who cowered like a frightened child behind his throne.
She walked toward him and kicked the chair out of the way. It crashed into the wall, exploding on impact.
He shrieked and held his arms above his head. “What are you?”
She ignored him and threw the sword to the ground. Reaching around to her hip, where a jeweled sheath had materialized, she pulled out a long black saber with a single red stone encrusted in the hilt. Gerard’s eyes flickered to the stone, and the color drained from his face.
“That stone… The stories… They were just supposed to be stories!” His eyes grew rounder as his voice rose in hysteria. “You’re the thing that killed all those men in Skala! Curse you!”
“Enough!”
Gerard flinched and shrank away from her.
“Is it true then, that you have spies in the palace?”
His old arrogance slipped into place. “Guess you’re more than a whore after all.”
She ignored the barb. “I’m on a mission. I’m led to believe my bounty has taken residence here in the capital. Will you help me or not? Your very life may depend on it.” She raked the tip of her saber across his glistening neck, and he swallowed hard.
“What do you want to know?” he said, managing to keep his voice even.
“There’s a dark haired man who I’m told passed through here not several months past, a man of rank no doubt. Do you know of whom I speak?”
He glared at her with clear annoyance. “A lot of men at the palace have dark hair.”
“A name,” she snapped.
“What do you expect me to do when that’s all you’ve given me? Start listing every bastard that fits your exemplary description?”
“One.” She raised her saber.
His eyes flashed with fear. “Wait! I know of one in particular… damn it, what was it! What was his name!”
“Two.” She angled the blade.
“Wait, I can remember it!” He grabbed her dress.
“Three.”
“Orris!” he yelled.
She paused. The pupils of his eyes dilated, and she could see the reflection of the blade in them. She stared at him hard. “Who is this Orris?”
He took several shaky breaths, searching her eyes.
“Think,” she said in a low voice.
He shook his head. “I…” He gulped and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they looked more focused. “The captain of the Palace Guard. The Gold Knight and commander of Asilee’s armies. That’s all I know.”
Orris. Is that what He’s calling Himself nowadays? Her eyes narrowed as her thoughts plunged into deeper, darker secrets. “How long has this Orris been here?”
Gerard stared into space, as if his wild eyes would find an answer there. “Orris has been here ever since I arrived. Ten or twelve years, perhaps.”
This produced an immediate frown. Gods never linger for long in any one place. If he’s taken up residence of sorts here, then does that mean he’s finally found the crystal?
She considered this, the tip of her blade still poised above Gerard’s throat. Without another word, she raised the saber.
Gerard gasped, and his face became impossibly paler. “Please, I gave you what you wanted! Have mercy!”
She met his eyes. “I gave up on mercy a long time ago.”
Her blade fell, and Gerard barely got out a scream before his body crumpled to the floor. She wiped the blade clean with the hem of her dress before returning it to the jeweled sheath at her hip.
She looked at the bodies around her as she strolled back to the curtained entrance, not lamenting their loss. What was one less thief, murderer, whore, rapist? Leave none alive who knew the truth. It was her personal rule, one that had saved her many times.
“It would appear we misunderstood each other,” she said, glancing back at Gerard’s corpse. “I do understand the importance of keeping one’s secrets safe.”
When she was almost to the curtain, she heard whimpering. She stopped, listening closer. It was muffled, as if they were trying not to be noticed. She followed the sound until her eyes rested upon a girl curled up in the darkest corner of the room, her eyes puffy and her face raw with tears.
Vishka soundlessly glided to her, drawing her saber as she did, and leveled it at the girl’s neck. The girl bit her lip as a sob caught in her throat.
Vishka studied her features. She looked around seventeen or eighteen, young but tough.
Perhaps…
“Tell me, are you well acquainted with the layout of the city?”
The girl shook so badly she could hardly speak. “Y – yes!”
“How well?”
The girl stared up at her with wide, terrified eyes. “I – I was raised by – by the palace. Please, please don’t kill me!” She started crying, pulling at her mussed red hair as tears poured down her cheeks. Her shoulders heaved with heavy sobs as she buried her face into her drawn up knees.
“Excellent.” Vishka sheathed her saber and kneeled in front of the girl, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder.
The girl started at her touch, and she searched Vishka’s face with a mixture of confusion and horror.
“What is your name?” Vishka asked softly.
“Me – Merissa,” the girl whispered.
“Well, Merissa. You’re going to help me.”
CHAPTER 6Nightmare
THE NEXT MORNING, LIAN awoke feeling more refreshed than she had in a long time.
Every nerve in her body felt alive, every muscle in her limbs soothed and limber. Smiling to herself, she laced her fingers together and stretched her arms over her head as she sat up, relishing the feeling of complete relaxation.
She glimpsed her forearm and gasped. The snow white skin looked almost translucent in the hazy light spilling through the black lace curtains. There were no bruises, no ugly reminder of Orris’ hatred. She stared in wonder at her arm, turning it every which way and noting that the pain was also gone.
How did she heal so fast? Had she slept for far longer than she thought? Surely she couldn’t have been out for more than a night.
A sharp rap at the door interrupted her thoughts, and it was immediately flung open by a rather irritable looking Grehn. He was the Head House keeper, and though Lian had minimal contact with him throughout the years, Ursa had complained enough about his famous temper and uncanny ability to spot the smallest wrinkle in a sheet – which usually resorted in a sharp reprimanding, according to Ursa – that Lian felt almost as disgruntled at seeing him as the housekeeping staff did.
He wasted no time and cleared his throat loudly, making his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “The Lady Ana-Elise wishes you to accompany her to the Marketplace,” he said in a blur, tapping his foot. His graying eyebrows were raised in the same disdainful arch she was used to seeing on his wrinkled face.
Lian blinked, startled. “Now?”
“Yes, my Lady. When did you think?” He snapped his fingers, and a moment later Ursa and another handmaiden – Drenna, she thought her name was – appeared with a basin of steaming water.
&nbs
p; Once they disappeared into the bathing chambers, Grehn turned to leave.
“Wait!”
He stopped, sighed between gritted teeth, and fixed her with a petulant stare. “Yes?”
“What day is it?” She fully realized how ridiculous she must sound, but she had to know, had to figure out how she had healed so quickly. “Was the engagement only announced last night?”
As she expected, he stared at her like she had lost her mind. “Yes, my Lady. It was only last night,” he replied slowly, as if speaking to a toddler.
She nodded once, her thoughts more troubled than they were to begin with. Ana-Elise had never shown any inclination of wanting to do anything with her. Though Lian loathed shopping, she was a little excited at the chance of spending time with her half-sister, and her glee erased her worry. Maybe the look Ana gave her last night meant nothing at all, or maybe she had dreamed it up altogether. As many things that had transpired the past few days, she couldn’t be sure exactly what was real and what she had imagined due to stress.
Without meaning to, she glanced at the teardrop. Was it faintly glowing, or was it catching the first gray light of dawn?
She closed her eyes and breathed a hard sigh through her nose. You have to stop imagining these things before you drive yourself mad. Magic and evil creatures are for children’s stories. It’s time to grow up.
Grehn took her silence as his dismissal and hastily left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
She looked at her arm again and then at the windows as Drenna drew apart the curtains. The sun was still obscured by the tree line of Dreaka’s Forest, meaning it must be ridiculously early. As if sensing she was being watched, Drenna turned around, bowed, and scooped up a towel and a bathrobe from the back of a chair.
“Good morning, my Lady,” she said with a curtsey and a small, shy smile. Drenna was a few years younger than her but already very pretty. Lian remembered seeing her the other night, flirting with Gabriel.
Maybe that’s the type of girl Gabriel likes. The pretty ones. Lian scowled and dismissed the stray thought, not bothering to remove the stormy look on her face as she crawled out of bed.
Drenna chewed on her lip. “Are you, um, are you all right, my Lady?”
Lian smiled tightly. “Never better.”
When she said no more, Drenna hastily led her to the bathing chamber where a steaming tub of water awaited. Drenna helped her out of her night-gown and then left her to wash up.
Lian emerged a few minutes later in her bath robe. One look around her bedroom told her Drenna was gone; only Ursa, who was flitting about lighting candles, remained. Ursa grinned when she saw her. She set down the candle she had just lit, walked over to the bed, and held up a dress with so much beadwork that Lian was convinced the sheer weight of it would give her back problems.
She waved it away. “You know I won’t wear something like that to a ball, let alone to the Market. The hem would be caked in mud within minutes.”
Ursa reluctantly agreed and tucked the dress away. She selected a few more options, each simpler than the one preceding it, until Lian finally chose a plain dress of flowing cream-colored fabric with a modest neckline and gold trim. She wished her wardrobe was more colorful at times. But she knew she was far luckier than most, seeing as she actually had decent clothes, and so she tried not to want for things she could perfectly well do without.
Ursa helped her into her undergarments before holding the dress open so she could step into it. The sleeves were a bit tight but would soon stretch out the longer she wore it. After she was in the dress, Ursa laced up the back and found some soft slippers. “How’s your arm?” she asked, setting the slippers on the floor before her. “I hope I didn’t jostle it around too much. I confess I’d completely forgotten about it.” A light blush crept into her plump cheeks.
“Oh. It’s, uh, much better. And no, you didn’t jostle it,” Lian added hastily. The thought crossed her mind to tell Ursa it was healed, but she decided to keep that information pressed tightly behind her closed lips. She couldn’t begin to understand her miraculous recovery, let alone try to explain it to Ursa.
As Ursa fussed over her hair, they made small talk, and Ursa filled her in on the latest gossip while Lian pretended to be listening. Gossip made her more uncomfortable than parading around in a ball gown. There was something that made her feel undeniably guilty and irritated about finding enjoyment in the misfortunes of others. There never seemed to be any good gossip; everything Ursa told her had a melancholy tone to it. Either that or maybe she was turned off from it since she always seemed to be a hot topic for gossip. She could not recall the last time she hadn’t heard her name whispered in the halls or at dinner parties. Balls were the worst, and she blanched at the thought of the approaching gala.
At last, Ursa had woven her damp hair into a complex web of braids that trailed down her upper back. Lian absently fingered the pendant around her neck, which shimmered in the early morning light as Ursa stepped back to view her work. Ursa’s eyes fell to her neck, and she smiled in wonder. “The necklace is a nice touch,” she said, motioning for Lian to stand. “I do believe you’re ready.”
No sooner had she spoke than another knock came at the door, and two guards stepped into the room, each taking up a position on either side of the entry. Another man, a page, walked past them and bowed. “The Lady Ana-Elise requests your presence for immediate departure.”
Lian cast one last dreary look at Ursa, who was trying to suppress a giggle, and followed the page out the door.
***
LIAN WAS GLAD THE Marketplace wasn’t open at night or else she might not be able to see anyone. At least in the cheaper section of the Market. Everyone wore the same drab shades: black, gray, cream, all inexpensive colors. But the royal entourage didn’t tarry in the cheaper wares for long. Ana went straight to the nicer shops, and more and more colors appeared. She also wore a lavender chemise, and Lian wondered how in Eresea she had managed that. A gift from Alastor probably.
The Marketplace overflowed with the hectic hustle and bustle of business as Accalians bartered with one another while others tried to draw more attention to their booths. Everything from fresh fish to fine silks was represented in the square, which served as the main outlet for shopping within the city.
Lian looked at her sister and half-smiled. Oh, the irony.
When Ana was younger, she would rather be caught dead than to be seen amongst the peasants. Now that knowledge of Asilee’s recession had spread and trade had dwindled next to nothing, Ana never hesitated to splurge the citizen’s taxes on whatever new trinket caught her eye. Luckily for her she’s marrying a rich husband, Lian thought dryly. While Ana-Elise had never wanted for anything, Lian had been lucky to receive a simple “Happy Birthday.”
Though it was still well above midday, the busiest time, it had already become a hassle just to walk around, but despite the increasing noise, their attendants remained steadfast and alert. The guards, led by Gabriel, cleared paths through the throng so they could move about more freely, and the servants carried the purchases of Ana-Elise.
Ana-Elise took her time examining wares, and she made no attempt to hide her disdain when something didn’t meet with her expectations, often to the sorrow of a disgruntled merchant.
The earlier excitement of her sister asking her to go still bubbled inside Lian, concealed by a layer of nerves she had not expected. Several times she started to say something only to back into silence once more. She studied Ana-Elise as they walked and listened intently to her conversations, trying to figure out something to say. To her dismay, the more she observed her, the more she came to realize she knew absolutely nothing about her, save for the fact Ana had a taste for the elite, the expensive, and the rare. She bought only the finest items, a jeweled broach, exotic dyed fabrics, and delicious pastries Lian had never heard of or tasted before.
Lian kept to herself and bought nothing. Not that she would be able to afford anything at the b
ooths her sister chose anyway. Upon their arrival, Ana had given her a small satchel that would have gone a long way at another part of the market but would not even buy her half the monetary worth of the items they now browsed. She wondered where Ana’s spending money came from, with the duke falling further into debt every day. It irritated her. She wondered if Ana had asked Alastor for the money or if he had given it to her out of some misplaced adoration. Either way, if he indulged her whims, he was much too kind and simple for his own good.
That wasn’t the only problem. Even if she did like what she saw – and she didn’t – she was too distracted to focus on shopping. Gabriel hovered at her side, making it increasingly difficult to pay attention. Each time she turned her head, she caught him watching her with a small smile on his lips and the same intensity in his eyes she had seen after her lesson before Orris had interrupted them.
She peered over her shoulder, and there he was, casually leaned against a table a few feet from her with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes instantly met hers, and he smiled. Blushing, she quickly pretended to gaze down the row of booths past him. He chuckled, deep and warm, making her heart pound that much harder.
“Did you hear me?”
“Pardon?” she blurted, snapping her head forward. Ana-Elise was staring at her with clear annoyance. “I’m sorry,” Lian said. “I don’t believe I caught that.”
Ana-Elise closed her eyes and sighed as shadows flickered across her face. When she opened them, her cool composure had slipped back into place. “I said, ‘Do you not see anything to your liking?’”
Lian’s mouth gaped open for a second before she snapped it shut. Ana-Elise hadn’t realized how little money she had given her.
“Oh,” she said, struggling to piece together an acceptable explanation for her lack of purchases. “I’m simply enjoying spending time in your company.” In a way, it was true. She couldn’t pinpoint how actually being around her sister made her feel; something close to pride and hope mingled with happiness. Yet it was also disquieting and made her incredibly anxious. “I confess, I don’t have much of an appetite for shopping,” Lian said softly, suddenly filled with the urge to reveal pieces of herself to the beautiful stranger before her.
Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle) Page 6
