Lightborn

by L J Andrews

  Baz laughed and tangled his fingers in the Zaharan’s hair. Kawal had a feeling if the emperor wanted to know his so-called wife, he would without asking his general. “Exactly why we must welcome the idea. Sha’run is feared and holds such power without being seen all these years. If the Blood Emperor has a fascination with halflings, I want to know why, and I want them first. What better man to lead the example than the general of my armies marrying a woman not of his race? Are you not pleased with my gift?”

  Kawal disliked Baz. No, he despised the man, but Baz still had the power. He was brutal. Kawal planned to overthrow the man someday, but until then he was forced to oblige his tantrums, indulgences, and ridiculous military maneuvers.

  “I could not be more honored, but I wonder why you as the lord of the land would not take such a prize for yourself.”

  Baz chuckled. “I have too many mistresses as it is. Take her. Breed warrior children for my empire.”

  Kawal stared at the woman. Her brows and hair were dark. Her skin as fresh as the white foam on the sea. She was pleasing to the eye and radiated a strength Kawal found intriguing. She was young enough by the tautness in her complexion that she had years to bear many children if he wanted. Did he? Kawal wanted power not a family. Still the woman could prove useful if her pedigree was as powerful as Baz made it out to be. He circled the place where she knelt, and to her credit she didn’t falter beneath his watch.

  “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  Baz clapped Kawal on his shoulder and laughed. “She’s yours then. I shall take my leave of you.” Baz snapped his fingers and signaled for the guards to follow. Kawal towered over his new bride, but his blood chilled when Baz called over his shoulder. “Oh, and general. Never have that fiend, Bale in this home again. He has no loyalty, and I assure you, if I discover you spoke a malicious word on my leadership, I shall gut you in the center of town.”

  Chapter 9

  Into Shadows

  The Tyv encampment was at the curve of the western waste. Not far through the ash oaks and birch trees, the shore of the North Sea broke into view. Dew on leaves and rain on bark covered the scent of brine and salt, but the cool ocean breeze still wafted through Thieves Waste as the sun faded over the treetops.

  Isa dabbed her lip until her fingertips stained red. She couldn’t stay hidden forever, but escape seemed impossible.

  “Embrace the shadows, Isabelle.” Hadeon’s voice carried in the wind. “Or, I will get more than a strike across your face next time.”

  She tucked between two scorched birch trunks that curved to form a weak shelter. From the old cinders and blackened twigs on the ground it was obvious more than one thief had used the space as cover. That meant it was known. Time to move.

  “You must blend with your environment no matter if it be forest or city, desert or jungle. Our guild must be pliable, adaptable, or we do not survive.”

  Isa shimmied against the trunks to flee. A broken branch caught hold of her tunic and trapped her. She bit her bottom lip and tugged as silent as she could. Above all, if your disguise is invisibility sound is your greatest enemy. All she repeated were Master Hadeon’s words as she shifted her shoulders, arched her neck, squatted over her knees, raised on her toes, trying to free the fabric from the tree without rustling a twig. She arched one shoulder and the longsword tethered on her back scraped across a low hanging limb.

  Hadeon chuckled, by the hush of his voice he’d gone at least twenty paces to the east. Not anymore. Despite his age, Hadeon seemed to hear the smallest cicada chirp. “You should know everyone and everything about your mark, your setting. The more knowledge you have the more you can adapt.”

  Isa maneuvered so she rolled her spine like a serpent in the grass, until the branch finally released her tunic. Hadeon was coming closer. She slipped from between the tree trunks into the open. The crisp night and fallen leaves gave evidence to colder weather, but also louder steps. Propping on a curved part of the tree Isa stretched for another tree three paces away. Her body was splayed and open for any loose arrow or blade to rip through her chest. Risks were a part of every run. And if her feet were on the ground then noise was the greater risk tonight.

  “Are you thinking clearly, Isabelle? You know I am close. Is your fear clouding your judgment?”

  Self-assessment told her she was on the brink of panic. Not what a true Tyv would do, since even now she knew in the back of her mind her life wasn’t at risk. If Hadeon clouded her mind, what would a true enemy do? Isa swallowed and folded over the new tree’s tangled limbs and trunks. It was as if someone had tossed a handful of seeds in one hole and demanded they grow as one mass. With careful movement she slid through the trees like one of the wide-eyed apes that shrieked through the tops of the forest and Guld Jungle. Isa lifted her legs over branches, ducked beneath fallen limbs, climbed one trunk like a pole until she unwove her body from the arms of leaves and bark.

  Using all the power of her arms, Isa dangled from a final branch. Her knees were tucked tight against her chest, but with a pent breath, she unfolded her body and dropped to the ground with hardly a rustle of leaves.

  She grinned and returned the black hood over her head. Hadeon’s voice was lost to the dark, so she must have out run him. Digging the pads of her feet into the soil, Isa squared to run toward camp. The victorious moment was short-lived. Upon standing she saw a shadow move, but it was already too late. She gasped and nearly lost the sheepskin purse fastened around her wrist as she was pinned against a broad chest. Isa cursed in her mind when a familiar knife tip pressed against her throat.

  “I thought it might be a little bit of a challenge.”

  Isa pinched her lips and slammed her heel in search of his toes. Joshua was too swift. He shifted his stance and laughed, but Isa dug her elbow in his ribs and at least earned an umph when the air stole out of his lungs.

  Joshua released his grip around her neck and Isa stumbled to her knees. “What are you doing here?”

  Joshua tossed the hood from his head, though his face was already streaked in black and mottled gray to give him true invisibility against the shadows. He flipped the knife in his hand as he always did on his arrogant victory laps. Finger, finger, grip, toss to second hand, finger, finger, spin, grip. Isa had the routine memorized.

  “You assumed a fair match.” A cringe rippled down her spine. Slowly, without standing, Isa faced the downturned eyes of Hadeon as he broke through the trees. “You took something of importance from me, Isabelle.” He tore the purse from her wrist and tossed it to Joshua as reward for his victory. “You truly thought I would pursue you without my men?”

  Isa’s shoulder slumped forward as she settled back on her knees. From all sides more Tyv thieves stepped from the shadows into the clouded moonlight. Breath puffed in steamy clouds as Isa let her head flop back and she gathered air lost during the exercise. “I was never supposed to get back to the camp, was I master?”

  “Yes, you were.”

  Isa didn’t cry out when a thief—she suspected Liam by his grunt and garlic scent—hit her shoulder with the pommel of his blade. She failed, and it was fair to receive punishment from those she’d failed.

  Hadeon held up a hand as giant Amoni ripped back his mask and held a wooden rod between his palms. Amoni glared in disappointment, but Isa knew it was only a matter of time before the rod found her spine. Her master lowered to his haunches and Isa gave him her full attention. Hadeon wasn’t frowning, he wasn’t smiling either, but his face was void of the discontent she’d been ready to see. “You were supposed to return, Isabelle. The Tyv Guild doesn’t accept being outnumbered as an excuse to fail. Joshua, what could Isa have done to slip through the barricade of thieves?”

  Isa gripped the hem of her tunic, her shoulders tight under her jaw, as she waited for Joshua’s smearing disapproval.

  “Master, Isabelle was wise to use the trees and stay off the dead leaves.” Isa tilted her head and stared at the thief, though Joshua didn’t take his attent
ion off Hadeon. “She moved silently and was lost in the dark; I couldn’t see her. Not until she chose to run on ground again. It was sheer luck I was in the same spot when she dropped from the branch. If she had checked, her surroundings a moment longer I would have gone by without incident. With the number of enemies in the forest it would have been wise to wait them out or continue to cross in the trees.”

  Her mouth was open, and she thought she might speak, but Isa could do nothing but keep her mouth quiet. Joshua shifted as his eyes found hers. His jaw pulsed and he quickly looked away. Never, and Isa truly meant never, had Joshua Rayhab offered an ounce of praise since she’d been adopted by the thieves. The sensation inside was comforting and nauseating.

  “Do you find Joshua’s assessment fair, Isabelle?” Hadeon asked.

  Isa paused for half a breath before she nodded. “Yes, master.”

  “You are accustomed to common escape, Isa.” Hadeon gripped under her arm and forced her to stand in the center of the thieves. “Running away, seems logical. You must be illogical. You must think above your enemies. You are a woman; men and nobles will underestimate you. Let them. But make certain you prove them wrong, or you will die.” Hadeon took a step closer so Isa could see the scar that curved his nose as he lowered his voice. “And I promise you, because you are a woman, they will kill you slowly.”

  ***

  Her stomach toiled. Isa hated spiced onions and the aroma saturated her skin. It would take scrubbing off a complete layer of flesh to rinse the scent. As always, the kitchen was a chaotic, organized machine. Laughter and hurried instruction bellowed off the stone walls of the Tyv castle. Men pulled haunches of pork; women tossed roots and vegetables; girls in bonnets rushed to and fro with bowls and platters.

  There were no drawbridges, knights, princes, or queens in the structure, but the thieves of the strongest guild called their stone fortress a castle anyway. Tyv was the ruler of Thieves Waste no matter how much Kish and Abalon disagreed.

  Isa bowed her head and set to work lining sprigs of thyme and sage imported from the South Sea atop the onion bowl. She inhaled, grimaced, and added a few more sprigs. The night Hadeon had found Isa curled beneath the juniper trees between the Wastes and Jershon, she’d been brought to this kitchen. The maids had given her warm goat’s milk and a fine quilt to chase away the cold. She’d never forget Hadeon settling into the chair next to her and asking if she knew how to cook. Isa hadn’t, she still wasn’t masterful at the art, but better than the frightened girl of twelve. One day a cleaver had fallen off a hook and Isa caught the blade in midair before it lanced the fingers of a maid. Word spread, and soon Hadeon had returned and asked her if she’d ever held a blade. That time Isa could nod with pride. Life was never the same in Thieves Waste for Isabelle, but the kitchens would always bring a sense of comfort for her since that first sip of goat milk.

  A summer breeze dragged the pungency of sweat and labor from the stables where the livestock relaxed in the shade. Isa wiped her clammy palms on the gray apron. Six months had passed since the forest exercise. And the day was two weeks shy of a year since the three guilds had met in Guild Tower. It was nearing time for the shadow run. Every sunrise she rose with the crow, sharpened her blades, and spared with at least three thieves. Her mouth twitched remembering the moment two days earlier when she’d flattened Liam and Amoni with one longsword. She’d only ever had a draw with Joshua, and it was infuriating. Before the sun set each night, Isa patterned disguises, personas, even practiced changing the pitch and accent of her voice with different tutors. She better understood paralytics and poisons if she needed to escape without a following. Isa was stronger, keener, wiser, but still felt vastly inadequate. Today would help wash away insecurities. It had to.

  “Brigita, my goddess…”

  Isa chopped a new onion and kept her eyes trained on the dull knife.

  “Flattery doesn’t get you a meal any faster, Joshua,” Brigita said as she ducked down into the oven to retrieve the loaf of seasoned bread. Brigita was the head of the kitchen. The woman wasn’t who Isa would imagine running a household, especially a household of thieves. She was as tall as Joshua. Her curves supple and elegant, and her dark hair looked like glass when the light hit it just right. The only evidence she baked and cooked all day was the white flour always on her hands and the perfume of butter and sugar in her hair.

  Brigita held the tray of bread in one hand, and whipped Joshua’s hand with a towel that had been tucked in her apron. He laughed and popped a sugared berry in his mouth before she could wind up again. “My love, it’s not flattery if it’s all true,” he said crossing the space of the kitchen and twirling Brigita once until the woman grinned.

  “Yes, well my husband might have something to say about your silver tongue.”

  Joshua released Brigita, leaned against the thick counter, and tapped a bunch of dried lavender. “I was coming to see if you’ve seen Isabelle. I know she pesters you most days.”

  Isa arched her face away and took the bowl of onions across the expansive kitchen where the pheasant and dove was being prepared.

  “I haven’t seen the girl. Though you shouldn’t torment her Joshua.”

  “But it’s such fun.”

  “You try to prove your own worth to Hadeon by mistreating Isabelle.”

  Isa smiled. Always her champion. That was Brigita. The woman was childless since her son had been killed by Blood Knights. Isa liked to imagine she was a type of daughter figure to the cook. Though she usually spoke just as harshly to Isa as she did to Joshua.

  Joshua cleared his throat as he meandered about the kitchen, turning maids around and studying their faces as he went. Isa washed her hands in the sink and cocked her head so she might track the sound of his steel-soled boots.

  “Brigita we all must prove our worth, or Tyv will crumble and I’ll never enjoy your sweet bread again. Isabelle is no different. Isn’t that right, Isa.”

  Isa’s heart leapt to her throat when two paces away Joshua turned around a slender kitchen maid. The girl pinched her lips into a line, brushed her golden hair off her forehead and shoved past a dejected Joshua. Brigita was watching with a smirk on her lips. Isa bent down to stack cleaned ceramic pots in the cupboard.

  “Joshua, she’s not here.”

  He wagged a finger at Brigita. “Possible, but not likely. She’s left signs everywhere in her laziness, and this is where they’ve led.”

  Laziness? What sign had she given? She cursed her stupidity remembering the broom closet just beyond the kitchen where she’d abandoned her tunic and boots. Isa held her breath when Joshua’s powerful hand curled over her shoulder and he spun her around. His pale eyes narrowed and scanned her face. Isa kept her brow lifted and added a slight quiver to her chin.

  “By the Mount, Joshua, that girl is Zaharan, can’t you tell by the milky skin? Now, get on out,” Brigita said. The woman had so many maids and hands in the kitchen it would be impossible for her to know them all. “It’s almost time to eat. And tell Herab I don’t want any of his filthy behavior or his street girls at my table again.”

  Joshua released his grip on Isa’s shoulder and grumbled. “Fine, my love. The little mouse is better than I thought. If you tell her that, I’ll know.”

  Brigita chuckled and doused the slices of fresh bread in a buttery mess of pink salt and white pepper before stacking the pieces in a large basket. “My lips are sealed. Now, take these out to the hall for me.”

  Isa dropped a towel. On her way up from retrieving the linen, she slid a silver dagger from the sheath beneath her kitchen smock. Without a sound Isa crept behind Joshua’s turned back. Brigita hadn’t even noticed new motion in the corners of her kitchen. Holding her breath, Isa wrapped her hand around a leather coin purse on Joshua’s belt and pressed the cutting edge of the dagger against the back of his neck. She was close enough to skin, a few wisps of his hair severed from the slice.

  “Do you really think I’m good, dear Joshua?”

  Th
e breadbasket slackened in his grip. Brigita’s wide eyes sparkled in amusement and she stifled a laugh as Joshua tightened his jaw as he turned. He took a longer, second glance at Isa’s disguised face.

  “It would seem I have been deceived.” Joshua tossed the coin purse at her feet and held up his hands. “I concede, Isabelle. For once. Master Hadeon will be pleased you finally pulled off a powerful enough disguise.”

  Brigita clapped her hands. “I would never have guessed, Isa. How did you do all this?”

  Isa blinked as she washed out the expensive eye dye only used on the wealthiest of people. She brushed a furious hand over her skin and the pearly smudges broke free of her brown skin. “It took half the morning, but it worked.” She winked at her fellow thief just to make him grunt and fold his arms again.

  “You smell. I hope you wash before dining or you shall run out Dirty Sam,” Joshua said.

  She pressed her hands around her nose and breathed deeply. “Perfect if you ask me. Never leave a hint of your true self to be caught. Isn’t that the rule, Joshua?”

  He rolled his eyes and lifted the basket once more. “I am not so proud that I can’t admit when I’ve been defeated. Well done, Isabelle, but remember this only means defeat will be returned to you. And I promise, I will not be fool enough to underestimate you again.”

  Isa saluted the back of Joshua’s head and smiled as Brigita laughed. “Well, done, girl.” Somehow when Brigita called her girl it wasn’t the same as when Joshua did.

  “Thank you,” Isa said with a slight bow.

  “Keep training and before you know it you will be besting every thief in this fort. Don’t tell my Anders I said that.”

  Isa laughed and took a silver pitcher of water from Brigita’s hand. Her Anders never went on runs with Isa, so she hardly knew the man, only that he had a habit of thieving beautiful trinkets for his beloved on top of the job. Brigita had more silver, gold, and rubies than most nobles Isa once knew, yet nothing tempted the cook from her kitchen and small hut in the forest.