by Jayne Castel
Mysandra had admitted Gael and Saskia into the House, for she’d sensed that she had little choice. She’d hated helping the Anthor king and his subordinates, but had forced herself to submit to it.
But now that she knew the truth of what Gael was planning, something had to be done. Rithmar had to be warned.
Withdrawing a coin purse from her robes, she took out a gold talent and placed it on the table.
The scribe nodded, accepting the job. He then picked up his quill and dipped it into the ink pot. “To whom do I address the message?” he asked, reaching for a slip of parchment.
Mysandra’s mouth pursed, and she hesitated a moment. “To Asher,” she replied after a pause. “The High Enchanter of the House of Light and Darkness.”
17
Time to Die
TIME WAS UP. Tonight Nina would die.
From his chamber window, high in the palace, Elias watched as yet another volley exploded above the rooftops, illuminated against the deep indigo sky. Streamers of firelight shot into the air, heralding the beginning of Rithmar’s Fire Festival.
Soon he would leave the palace and join the revelers, but for the moment he remained at the window, his thoughts turning inward.
He and Nathan had concluded their negotiations today. Elias would have to leave The Royal City within the next day or two.
There would be no more delays. The job needed to be completed.
Drawing in a deep breath, Elias stepped from the window, bent down, and drew the blade from his boot. The light was dim in his chamber, for none of the lanterns in the chamber were lit, but the slender dagger—folded and tempered Anthor steel—gleamed as if illuminated from within. The silver handle fitted into his palm, and he closed his fingers over it.
Ninia didn’t deserve this, but that didn’t matter.
He’d waited too long, allowed himself to feel too settled in The Royal City.
He’d allowed himself to get distracted.
Sheathing the blade, he turned from the window and walked to the chamber door.
Santino and the four other men of Anthor stood waiting for him. It was the first time since arriving in The Royal City, he’d seen his men amassed like this. Until now, Nathan had forbidden it. It seemed that tonight he was prepared to let his guard down.
A mistake.
The look on Santino’s face made Elias frown. His second bristled with impatience. He opened his mouth to speak, but Elias cut him off with a sharply raised hand.
“Don’t tell me what needs to be done,” he growled. “I’m well aware of it.”
Santino stared back at him, his lean face growing taut. Behind him, the other men exchanged surprised looks. “Excuse me, Your Highness … I didn’t mean—”
“Enough,” Elias cut him off. His gaze swept over his men, before he glanced around to ensure they were alone in the corridor. “Be at the ready to move.”
They nodded, and Santino favored him with a tight smile. The man didn’t need to say anything, but Elias could read his eyes. It’s about time.
Elias led the way downstairs and out of the palace. In the sloping cobbled space beneath the palace gates, revelers had built a bonfire and were already dancing around it. Laughter and music rose up into the balmy night air.
Elias inhaled the aroma of baking bread mingled with the scent of wood smoke. Anthor celebrated a similar festival this time of year, for fire symbolized the beginning of summer. Only, the smells in Mirrar Rock were quite different; there, the aroma of garlic, frying fish, and hot peppers would fill the streets on a night like this.
Moving down the slope, Elias entered The King’s Way. He traveled down to the vast market square before the gates to the lower town, and as he walked, his thoughts started to spiral. The image of Ninia’s proud face, her frank hazel eyes, and the fearless way she looked at him rose unbidden—and a boulder settled upon Elias’s chest. Bile crept up his throat.
Enough. Elias savagely shoved the thoughts aside. For what was to come he couldn’t risk introspection. He had to enter the place he went to in battle.
A place devoid of feeling.
But as he entered the square and let his gaze drift across the jostling crowd, he saw her.
Not Ninia, but Ryana.
Elias stopped short, letting the crowd eddy around him. Ryana hadn’t yet seen him. She was dressed differently than usual this evening, in form-fitting leather leggings and a sleeveless charcoal tunic that was belted at the waist. The clothing showed off her tall, statuesque body. Elias dragged his gaze down the length of her, taking in the generous swell of those breasts he’d feasted on, the long, shapely lines of her legs that had wrapped around him as he’d taken her. She wore her heavy golden hair loose this evening. It fell in sensual waves down her back.
Ryana threw back her head and laughed at something the red-haired young woman beside her had just said.
Elias’s chest constricted, the weight on his breastbone increasing. Under different circumstances he’d have sought her out in the crowd, would have stayed at her side all evening before taking her back to The Black Boar for another night of passion. A day had passed since they’d lain together. He’d left the inn at dawn and hadn’t seen Ryana since. But tonight, he had another purpose.
He had to stay away from Ryana.
Elias refocused on his task.
Shifting left, he deliberately circuited the edge of the square.
It was impossibly crowded. The bonfire crackled and sparked, reflecting off the polished surface of the Altar of Umbra behind it. Elias passed a fire-eater putting on an impressive display. Children clustered around him, squealing with delight when the man plunged a burning torch down his throat.
A few feet in front of the bonfire, Elias spied a group of enchanters of the Light putting on a show of their own. To the amusement of onlookers, they sent plumes of sparkling light into the sky.
And then, near the gates leading through to the lower town, Elias spied Ninia.
The young woman was dressed in her black enchanter robes—being of both the Dark and the Light, the Order had gifted her with a uniquely-colored robe. Her thick brown hair was braided and wrapped around the crown of her head. The style accentuated the roundness of her face. It made her look heartbreakingly young.
Elias drew to a halt, once again forcing down nausea. Fisting his hands at his sides, he swallowed hard.
How things changed.
A few months ago he’d hunted Ninia. He’d felt nothing for her then.
That seemed like a lifetime ago. Ever since she’d spared his life, something had shifted in him.
Elias clenched his jaw. You’ve gone soft.
He cast a glance over his shoulder at his men. “I’ve seen her,” he murmured. “All of you except Santino remain here.” He caught his second’s eye. “Follow us, but at a distance. I don’t want to make anyone suspicious.”
Santino gave a brisk nod.
Turning from him, Elias continued through the crowd and followed Ninia out of the square.
Ryana turned from where she, Dain, and Lilia watched the enchanters’ light display. Her attention traveled over the throng. The evening was well underway. She’d expected to run into Elias by now.
She’d told herself she wouldn’t look out for him.
Cool, calm, and controlled. She’d made herself a promise before heading out this evening. Elias set her alight, but there was no future for them. Her head knew the truth of it, but her heart had other ideas, and she found herself scanning the crowd.
At the gates she spied Ninia. The girl was following the tide of revelers into the lower town, to where more fire displays were taking place on the main thoroughfare beyond. Ninia had been looking forward to the Fire Festival for days. Thûn shared a similar celebration, although the princess had never been permitted to mingle with the masses.
An instant later Ryana saw Elias.
Her breathing caught merely at the sight of him. He was dressed as he’d been the first night they’
d met, in leather breeches, a crimson shirt, and a black leather vest.
Elias hadn’t seen her. He moved through the crowd, his gaze trained on the gates ahead.
Longing rose within Ryana.
Damn the things she’d been telling herself all day. She ached to see him, to hear the rough timbre of his voice, to have those penetrating eyes upon her. She wanted to make him smile and drag him over to watch the shows. She wanted to forget all the reasons why they couldn’t be together, why he’d break her heart.
Both Ninia and Elias disappeared from view, the crowd swallowing them up. Ryana hesitated for a few moments, wrestling with herself. Finally, not even bothering to say anything to Lilia or Dain, she moved toward the gates.
A firm hand on her upper arm brought her up short.
Turning, her gaze met Asher’s. Irritated at being manhandled so, she frowned and was about to upbraid him when she saw the grim look upon his face.
Ryana tensed. “What is it?”
“A goshawk just arrived from the House of Light and Darkness in Veldoras.” Asher’s face was unusually pale, his jaw clenched.
Mira stepped up to his side, her expression equally strained. “Elias of Anthor isn’t here on a mission of peace,” she said, her voice flat and hard. “He’s after Ninia.”
Elias followed Ninia deep into the lower town.
The Royal City was busy these days, as soldiers from every corner of the kingdom temporarily resided here. A sense of foreboding settled over Elias at this observation. All these days of peace negotiations would be for nothing after tonight. It was supposed to have been a ruse, but the further Elias had gotten into the negotiations, the more he’d wanted to believe them.
Both his father and Saul would have laughed at his naivety. He had to admit, they would have been right. He’d been a fool.
The crowd was dense. There was barely room to move in places, although Ninia didn’t seem to mind.
The girl kept stopping. She halted to play a ring toss game, one where she had to throw a metal hoop over a row of burning torches in an allotted time. Ninia threw the rings with great precision and won herself a beautiful woolen shawl. Grinning, she threw it around her shoulders and continued on her way.
A few yards on she stopped to buy herself a candied apple.
Elias halted, making sure that the press of bodies around him concealed his presence from Ninia. Nibbling at her apple, the girl’s cheeks were flushed. She looked so happy this evening.
The sight made Elias start to sweat. He would be the one to extinguish the light from her eyes.
He followed her for a while, biding his time, and when Ninia turned into a side-street where soothsayers had set up awnings and scribes penned poetry for lovers, Elias knew his chance had arrived.
Ninia had stopped before a tent where a palm-reader was telling a young man’s fortune.
“Great adventures await you.” The woman’s husky voice filtered down the street. “You will travel to every corner of The Four Kingdoms.”
The youth’s eyes gleamed. “When?” he asked impatiently. “How will I escape my Da’s workshop? He never takes his eyes off me.”
A smile curved Ninia’s lips as she looked on a few feet away.
Elias approached her. He’d already drawn his blade and held it concealed in his palm. The lane was shadowed, dimly lit by glowing orange lanterns. The haunting strains of a lyre drifted out from the street behind them.
Step by step, Elias advanced, soft-footed in his hunting boots.
The princess stood side-on to him, her smile widening while she listened to the palm-reader’s continuing predictions.
“You will be under his yoke for a wee while yet,” she advised him. “But you must be ready to seize your chance when it comes … for it will only visit you once.”
Ninia was so engrossed that she didn’t even notice the tall figure who edged along the shadowy wall toward her.
Three feet from Ninia, Elias stopped. He breathed quietly, shallowly. His shoulders had tensed, and the fingers concealing the blade flexed.
His chance was now. Like the fortune-teller’s prediction, some opportunities, once missed, never presented themselves again.
Ninia of Thûn had to die.
18
Returning the Favor
“NINIA.”
HE SAID her name softly, so as not to startle her.
Ninia turned her attention from the palm-reader and settled it upon Elias. For a moment the pair of them just stared at each other.
The princess inclined her head, gaze narrowing. “Are you following me?”
“Aye,” he replied.
She surveyed him, her gaze sweeping from head to toe. She couldn’t see the knife still hidden in Elias’s palm, yet he noted how her small frame tensed, the way the fingers of her left hand flexed at her side. She was preparing to defend herself.
“What do you want?”
Elias let out a heavy breath, bent down, and slid the blade back into his boot. “I’ve been sent to kill you.”
Ninia’s hazel eyes widened, but she didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“As you can see, I’m not going to,” he concluded, his gaze never leaving hers.
She swallowed, tension vibrating through her, and then her attention shifted past Elias, focusing on something behind him.
Elias twisted, and he spied Santino.
His second had just entered the alleyway and now stood a few yards away, watching them with a scowl.
Elias went still. Had Santino seen him put his knife away?
“Leave us,” Elias ordered, his voice cutting through the chorus of excited voices and the lilt of music that drifted into the alley from the street beyond. Around them, the palm-reader and soothsayer had stopped what they were doing and were now watching the three newcomers.
Santino didn’t respond or comply. Instead, he drew a long dagger from his own boot and advanced toward Ninia.
Elias saw at a glance that the knife wasn’t Anthorian. Santino had been relieved of his weapons upon entering The Royal City, but he’d managed to get hold of a blade locally. That wasn’t surprising as, after the first few days, Nathan had been a lot of more relaxed about security regarding his Anthor guests.
The palm-reader gave a high-pitched cry, although Elias paid her no mind. Santino was intent on completing the job that Elias had just abandoned.
Beside him, he sensed Ninia shift position. The shadows around him began to growl and hiss, a warning that she was readying herself to unleash the Dark.
Santino lunged at Ninia.
He never reached her.
Elias knew how fast his second was. Santino was lithe and could strike fast. Ninia would have to react quickly to defend herself from his attack. Whipping the slender blade from his boot, Elias threw himself between the girl and the soldier.
With one hand, he grabbed hold of Santino’s wrist, and with the other he slammed his own knife into the hollow at the base of the man’s throat. Elias threw his entire weight behind the attack, driving the blade home to its hilt.
Santino’s dark eyes seized upon Elias, shock flaring in their depths, and then he slumped in his arms.
Neither man spoke a word.
Elias merely stared down at him, holding Santino tight until his body went limp. He then lowered Santino to the ground and withdrew the blade from his throat.
Hot blood flowed out, pooling on the cobblestones.
The palm-reader started to scream.
The shrill noise jerked Elias’s attention from his second. He hadn’t wanted to kill Santino, but the man hadn’t left him a choice.
His father wanted Ninia dead. Elias no longer did.
A heartbeat later Elias heard shouting coming from the street beyond. Guards.
He turned to Ninia to find her still standing where he’d left her. She was watching him, a bemused expression upon her face.
“Sorry about all of this,” he muttered. “What a mess.”
She incli
ned her head. “Aye … you’re right about that.”
Elias glanced back at the entrance to the alleyway. Any moment now he’d be surrounded by city guards.
“Why are you standing there?”
Elias swiveled back to Ninia. She was watching him, an incredulous expression upon her face. “Excuse me?”
“You need to go.”
His gaze narrowed. “You want me to run?”
Ninia folded her arms across her chest. “If you’re caught, you’ll be strung up for this.”
Elias frowned. “I spared your life, didn’t I?”
“Nathan won’t care about that. He’ll want to make an example of you.”
The shouting grew louder. Men’s rough voices echoed toward them.
Ninia’s face grew pinched. “Shadows, Elias,” she snapped. “Run!”
Elias backed up. The princess was right. If he didn’t flee now, he was a dead man. It had all gone wrong. Nothing had turned out as he planned—but his change of heart wouldn’t help him.
“Goodbye, Ninia,” he said gruffly.
Elias moved away, continuing down the alleyway in the direction of the river. He clenched his jaw. He hated running, but he didn’t want to sacrifice himself either. The survival instinct stirred. Elias wanted to live, although he didn’t want to leave The Royal City this way—not without seeing Ryana again.
There was no other choice. And once she found out what had happened, she’d want nothing to do with him anyway.
Elias began to run, the worn cobbles slippery underfoot. Behind him, he sensed movement, yet he didn’t slow his pace. He didn’t look over his shoulder.
Turning left, he entered an even narrower alleyway, littered with refuse and the huddled bodies of those who slept rough. Elias leaped over them, accidentally treading on one or two of the prone figures that were so well disguised under piles of filthy rags.
Grunts of outrage followed him, and then he heard the slap of booted feet and angry shouts.
The guards who’d discovered Santino and Ninia were giving chase.
After a few twists and turns, Elias made it to the Rith. The river flowed past, its waters reflecting off the orange glow of the surrounding lamps that lined the river bank. Elias halted on the edge of a stone jetty, breathing in the misty air.
