Child of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 1)

by Andy Peloquin

  “Ilanna—”

  She locked eyes with him. “Look at me, Ethen.” He complied. “Swear it, on the Watcher in the Dark, that you won’t do anything.”

  “But—”

  She squeezed his hands. “No buts. When I finish this Undertaking, we’ll find a way to make Sabat pay. You have my word on that. But we’ll do it together.”

  Ethen stiffened. “I don’t need you to protect me, Ilanna. It should be the other way around.”

  “I don’t care what it should be. All I care about is that you’re safe.”

  “I will be. He won’t expect—”

  “Promise me, Ethen.” She tightened her grip. “Swear it, or I will shatter your fingers here and now.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  She squeezed and he winced. “I’d rather have you crippled for life than dead.”

  “Fine!” Ethen wrenched his hands from hers. “I promise.”

  Ilanna eyed him, but his expression gave nothing away. “Two weeks, Ethen. After that, I’ll be done with the Undertaking and we’ll both be full-fledged members of the Night Guild. We’ll have plenty of time for vengeance then.”

  Ethen nodded. “Go. Denber’s waiting for you.” An odd tightness filled his voice at mention of the Hawk.

  She retrieved the bundle and slung it over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you at the garden tomorrow, at sunrise? We’ll fix it up. It’ll be good as new.”

  Ethen nodded. “As you say.”

  Ilanna eyed him, unconvinced. Please, Ethen, don’t do anything stupid! Something about the way he toyed with the leather sling at his belt…

  “Let’s go, Ilanna!” Denber’s voice echoed through the vaulted room.

  Squeezing Ethen’s arm, she leapt up to the Perch. As she scaled the maze of ropes, ladders, and walkways, a prayer came unbidden to her lips. “Bright Lady, hear us and protect us in our hour of need. Keep Ethen safe.”

  * * *

  Ilanna stifled a yawn. After a night of training with Denber, she wished for the soft comfort of her bed. She could sleep for days in the silence of her empty bunk room. But, try as she might, she couldn’t shake her worries for Ethen.

  I have to find him and stop him from doing anything stupid. Something about the way he’d refused to meet her eyes made her nervous. He’d promised to meet her at their garden at sunrise. Even if she left now, she’d arrive late. He’ll wait for me there. He has to!

  “We done here, Denber?”

  Denber raised an eyebrow. “Got somewhere to be?”

  “Ethen.”

  Denber nodded. “Yeah, we’re done for today. You’re pretty much ready, anyway. These last few days are just to be certain you’re in shape for the climb. Though I’d have to say you handled yourself well out there. Rope and all.”

  Ilanna grinned and dumped the heavy sack at his feet. “Which is why you’ll be carrying it back to the Aerie for me, right?”

  Denber rolled his eyes. “Fine, off with you. See you tonight.”

  Ilanna groaned. She hadn’t slept much over the previous days. When she did, Sabat’s leering grin filled her nights. He destroyed her garden over and over. In her dreams, she failed to escape. She shuddered in remembrance of a particularly violent nightmare from a few days past. The things he’d done to her after he caught her…

  Another night of training is better than that!

  Thoughts of the vicious Sabat faded beneath the warm sunlight. A gentle breeze wafted across the rooftops, carrying the scents of the city below. The noise of the busy Merchant’s District floated up to her. Life returned to Praamis with the rising sun.

  Ilanna’s heart lightened. Just a few more days and this will all be over. She’d attempt to scale the Black Spire on the night of the new moon, eight days hence. I just have to stay out of Sabat’s way until then. And keep Ethen away from him.

  Her boots pounded on the tiled rooftops, her legs pumping as she flew toward the garden. She kept to the Hawk’s Highway, not daring to take to the streets. Sabat would be somewhere down there, no doubt waiting for her. She would only descend near Old Town Market. She’d be safe there. With the bustling early morning crowds, she could slip into the garden without being seen.

  She leapt onto a brightly colored awning and dropped to the cobblestone streets without alerting the stall’s owner. Her lessons with Errik and Garrill had done her good. She flitted through the press of people like a wraith. Heart pounding, she studied her surroundings from beneath her hood.

  No sign of Sabat, or any of the Bloodbears for that matter. Good. She slunk through the early morning shadows, wary as an alley cat. Nothing out of the ordinary. No one leapt out at her. By the time she scaled the garden wall, her heart had slowed its nervous thundering.

  She winced at the sight of the garden. Sabat and his cronies had trampled the dirt to mud. Her yellow and purple blooms hadn’t escaped their wrath. Not a speck of color stood out from the brown mud.

  Fury burned in her chest. Her hand wrapped around the hilt of her saber and she squeezed until her knuckles turned white. Soon enough, Sabat, there will be a reckoning.

  She would fix it up, would plant again. With Ethen’s help, the garden would be as good as new.

  “Ethen?” No answer came. He’s not here yet. She glanced at the sun. He should have arrived hours ago.

  Anxiety churned in her stomach. Why isn’t he here? Her mind raced. What could have happened?

  She pictured Ethen confronting Sabat and her heart sank. No, she told herself. He promised me he wouldn’t. Maybe he was still back at the Aerie, where she had left him. Or he’d returned to the Burrow. Yes, he has to be there. He has to!

  Hurrying over the garden wall, Ilanna slithered her way through the Old Town Market crowds. She kept a wary eye on the passersby, but saw no sign of the Bloodbears. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the nagging doubt in the back of her mind. Something was terribly wrong.

  Slipping into the alleyway, she moved toward the rope ladder. I have to find him!

  A weak cough caught her attention. She whirled, her saber whispering from its sheath. “Who’s there?”

  A soft, wet gurgle reached her.

  Ilanna’s heart thundered. “H-Hello? Come out where I can see you, or I’ll run you through.”

  Someone groaned. “I-Ila…nna?”

  Ethen lay a dozen paces down the alleyway, rubbish heaped high atop him. Crimson stained his pale face and curly brown hair. Blood spread outward in a pool that soaked into the muck of the alley. Ilanna’s heart stopped. Her sword dropped from numb fingers. She stood there, frozen in place by shock and horror.

  He groaned again. The sound snapped her trance.

  “Ethen!” Ilanna scrabbled through rotten vegetables, sacking, and other substances too horrible to contemplate and pressed her fingers to his neck. His pulse was weak, thready. She pushed the refuse away, not caring that it stained her hands, seeped into her clothing, and filled her boots. “Ethen, what happened to you?”

  Ilanna gasped. Blood spurted from deep wounds in his arms, shoulders, and abdomen. Her stomach lurched. A cold, detached part of her mind analyzed the lacerations. Whoever had done this had taken their time. Though deep, the wounds weren’t fatal, but the rubbish heaped atop him meant infection. Infection could lead to a slow, agonizing death.

  Her thoughts whirled in a seething maelstrom. I have to get him back to the Night Guild, now! Journeymen Tyman can take care of him. He’ll—

  Her eyes fell on the dagger buried in his stomach and her blood turned to ice. She would recognize the blade anywhere. Th-That’s…mine! Master Velvet had given her the knife in the Menagerie. She’d lost it on the day Sabat had beaten and broken her. And now…

  A scream bubbled up from somewhere deep within her, a horrible piercing sound, the primal cry of an animal howling in anguish and rage.

  A hand grasped her shoulder. “Ilanna? Are you—?” The words died in a gasp and a curse.

  She whirled, the bloodied dagger in her hand
. “Don’t touch him! Get away!”

  A dim part of her mind registered the familiar face before her. She knew him. He was…friend. “D-Denber?”

  “What in the twisted hell happened here, Ilanna? Did you—?” His words died on his lips.

  Ilanna rocked back and forth, Ethen’s head cradled in her arms. No! Tears streamed down her face. Please, no!

  Heaving sobs shook her shoulder. She didn’t care about the muck, the offal, or the foul smell. She didn’t care that Ethen’s blood stained her face, hands, and clothing. She fumbled with his hair, pushing the locks aside. She just wanted him to open his eyes.

  * * *

  Ilanna sat beside Ethen’s bed, holding his hand—the only part of his body free of cuts, shattered bones, and lacerations. “Please, Ethen, talk to me. It’s been eight days, Ethen. You have to wake up. Please!”

  He remained silent, unmoving. His chest rose and fell in a shallow rhythm. He rasped with every labored breath. The sound thrust a knife into Ilanna’s heart.

  The door opened and closed behind her.

  “How is he?” Journeyman Tyman laid a hand on her shoulder.

  Ilanna didn’t look up. “Same.”

  “It would be easier for me to care for him in House Scorpion, you know. I’d much rather—”

  “He stays here.” She spoke in a quiet voice, but there was no question or plea. Ethen would stay in House Hawk, in her bed, where she could care for him.

  Journeyman Tyman said nothing. He bent over Ethen, raising his eyelids, lifting bandages, and prodding. “I’ll return in a few hours to check on him.”

  Ilanna nodded, too numb to speak. She wanted Tyman out of the room so she could cry, but when the door closed, no tears came. Her rage left no room for sorrow.

  Sabat. The Bloodbear had done this to her friend, that much she knew. No one else would discard his body like refuse. No one else would leave the knife—her knife. It was a message, and she heard it loud and clear. You will suffer for this, you bastard!

  The Undertaking first, then payback. She ached to feel her blade slip through the cartilage of his throat. She would bask in the gush of hot blood spurting from the wounds she would inflict. He wouldn’t die quickly; she wouldn’t let him. But how? When? She would bide her time. She would find the right moment to make him pay.

  “I will do what I must,” she whispered. “Watcher hear me, I will do what I must.”

  She thought she heard Ethen stirring. Her eyes darted to the unconscious Scorpion. She leaned over him, squeezing his hand, eager to hear him speak. But Ethen remained silent, still. He moved! I heard it. But had she or was it all her mind willing it to be so?

  The door closed. Her heart plummeted and a lump formed in her throat. It had been nothing more than a breeze kicked up by the opening door.

  “It’s time, Ilanna.”

  She shook her head. “No, Denber. Not yet. Not until—”

  “Yes, Ilanna, now. If you don’t go now, you’ll have to wait a whole month until the new moon. You’ll fail in your Undertaking.”

  She whirled, eyes flashing. “So what? What do I care about some stupid test? With Ethen like this…” Her voice cracked.

  Denber placed a hand on her shoulder. “What would he want you to do? What would he say?”

  A tear spilled down her cheek. She dashed it away. “Damn you, Denber! You can’t expect me to—”

  “What choice do you have, Ilanna? Sit here and pine away in the hopes he’ll wake up or get out there and make him proud? Do the impossible. For him.”

  Ilanna forced her fingers to unclench. Ethen’s hand slipped free, falling limply to the bed beside him. He looked so peaceful, so calm. He was so handsome beneath the bruises and lacerations.

  She leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips. “I’ll be back, Ethen.”

  She followed Denber from the room, casting one final glance at the unmoving Scorpion. In the heartbeat before the door clanged shut, she almost thought a smile tickled at the corners of his mouth.

  I’ll do it. I will do the impossible. She would conquer the Black Spire or die trying. And she would do it for him.

  Chapter Forty

  Ilanna crouched in the shadows of a towering oak, studying the gardens surrounding the Black Spire. Stars twinkled in the moonless sky. A gentle breeze rustled the trees, carrying the scents of flowers and fresh-trimmed grass.

  She’d made the crawl through the hidden tunnel with ease, and thick trees had provided cover. She stared across the open expanse of lawn and the paved stone walkway cutting through the sea of green. If I remember correctly, any moment there will be a—

  A lantern bobbed in the darkness, accompanied by the tromp, tromp of booted feet. Ilanna threw herself to the soft earth, face down. Blood rushed in her ears and her pulse quickened. Her breath caught in her throat. She forced herself to take a deep breath, then another. She counted the echoing footsteps.

  Six guards in this patrol. Two more than normal. For some reason, Duke Phonnis had increased security in his property. If they’re guarding the tower more carefully, there’s a chance I’ll be spotted while climbing. Can’t have that.

  She clenched her fists to stop her hands trembling—from excitement as much as fear. This was supposed to be the easy part, but already she felt exhausted. The nervous tension filling every muscle in her body didn’t help.

  The lantern disappeared with the patrol and Ilanna climbed to her feet. Her soft leather boots made no sound on the soft grass. The laborious weeks Errik and Garrill had spent teaching her how to walk silently paid off. She made less noise than the wind whispering through the garden.

  The sweet scent of roses reached her. Ilanna swallowed hard. The fragrance reminded her of Ethen. They’d spent hours in their garden together, tending the flowers. Now the garden lay in ruins and Ethen lay in bed, broken…dying. Tears blurred her vision. She dashed the moisture away. No time for that now. Have to focus.

  Ilanna ducked beneath the shadow of an overhanging willow as another patrol passed. She waited in breathless silence. This should be the last one for a while. She should have enough time to reach the base of the Black Spire and start the climb well before the guards returned. I have to move quickly.

  After what seemed an eternity, the patrol passed out of sight around a bend in the path. Ilanna’s stomach ceased its churning. Almost there! Heart thundering, she made the final dash across open ground and slid into the protective shadow of the trees ringing the base of the Black Spire.

  Excitement coursed through her. She’d made it. She glanced up at the moonless sky. How long had it taken her to reach the base of the tower? An hour, maybe more. She had entered the Duke’s gardens just after nightfall. She had perhaps six hours to climb the tower, break through the Spire’s defenses, find something to steal, and descend. It’s going to be a close thing.

  Ilanna’s eyes traveled up the looming pillar of darkness. The black stone tower no longer taunted her. Instead, it seemed to pulse in time with her nervous energy, as if in anticipation of her attempt. With a grin, she stepped up to the tower and started to climb.

  * * *

  Ilanna bit down on a frustrated curse. She wished for some way to anchor herself to the Black Spire. After an arduous hour of climbing, she needed rest. Her shoulders, arms, and legs ached from her interminable effort.

  She dug the steel studs into a crack in the masonry and hung there, letting the gloves and boot spikes bear her weight. She risked a glance behind her. The treetops of Duke Elodon Phonnis’ garden ended a dozen paces below. She’d climbed roughly thirty or forty paces. At this pace, she would reach the top of the Black Spire in three hours. But could she last that long? The burning in her arms and legs increased with every labored heartbeat. Her neck ached from craning upward in search of handholds.

  I have no choice. I have to make it! She’d spent a year training for the attempt. Denber had given her months, teaching her everything she needed to know to make the climb. Errik and Garrill, too. I
f I fail, they fail, too. I won’t let them down.

  The moment of respite had dulled the throbbing in her limbs and sensation had returned to her fingers.

  Enough rest. I’ve got a tower to climb!

  * * *

  Twisted hell! Gasping in terror, Ilanna hung by one hand. She didn’t dare move for fear of dislodging the glove spike. If it slipped loose, she would plummet more than a hundred paces to the garden below. She pictured herself crashing through the branches of the trees, her body crushed by the impact. Not even the soft grass would save her.

  Slowly, careful not to shift her weight, she slipped the spikes of her left glove into a crack in the masonry. The steel spike grated against stone, but it held. Next, her right foot. A soft chink, chink of metal on rock, and the boot held. Finally, her left foot. She dug it as far into the crack as she dared. She let out a deep, shuddering breath. The spike held.

  That was too bloody close! Ilanna clung to the rock, fear setting her nerves ablaze. Every muscle ached, but the brush with death set adrenaline rushing through her. A jolt of energy coursed in her veins and the pain in her spine and muscles retreated to a dull ache.

  She tried to ignore the growing fire in her shoulder. Not for the first time, she contemplated discarding the heavy satchel. She didn’t dare adjust it, no matter how much the strap dug into her shoulder. Even a slight shift in her balance could dislodge the spikes.

  She weighed her choices. If she got rid of the rope, she could make the rest of the climb without the excess weight. But that would force her to descend through the interior of the tower. She couldn’t climb back down the way she had come. She would be too exhausted to survive a descent.

  It was no choice at all. Her only way out of this alive was rappelling down the side of the tower. To do that, she needed the rope.

  Halfway there. A long way to go, but she was halfway there. A snort of desperate, terrified laughter burst from her throat. She swallowed the sound, but she couldn’t help feeling giddy. She’d come so close to taking a final dive and yet here she remained. The Black Spire hadn’t defeated her yet.

  * * *