by Sadie Moss
When Darcy pulled the loaf of delicious-smelling bread from the oven, I glanced up. “Breakfast?”
She smiled indulgently. “Give it a minute to cool, then yes.”
I grinned, eyeing the upside-down reflection of my face on the spoon I’d just polished. “Before I met you, I never would’ve believed there was a better breakfast than cold pizza.”
Her thin lips pursed, almost disappearing completely. “Cold? Pizza?”
“You’ve never had cold pizza?”
She shook her head, looking bemused.
“Oh, Darcy!” I widened my eyes dramatically. “You’re missing out on one of life’s true joys. It’s best a day or two later, when the cheese is—”
“Lana?”
My grandmother’s voice echoed down the hall, and all three of us froze.
I threw down the spoon like I’d been caught trying to steal it—okay, maybe the thought had crossed my mind, but I wouldn’t want Retta or Darcy to take the blame—and glanced up as Beatrice walked in.
She smiled tentatively, like she did every time she saw me. As if she was afraid any quick movements would send me running for the hills. “Ah. I thought you might be in here. How are you, darling?”
“Good. Fine. Thanks.” I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my dress.
“I thought I heard a noise from your room last night. Is everything all right?”
I winced. Of course she’d heard the collective thud of all the furniture landing at once. If Retta and Darcy lived here, they’d likely have asked about it too.
“Yeah. I was just… uh, rearranging the furniture a bit. I couldn’t sleep,” I finished lamely as Beatrice’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh, I see.” Her gaze now held concern, probably for my sanity. “If you need anything else moved, just let me know. I can levitate it for you.”
Well, at least now I know where that particular talent comes from.
Choosing not to share the fact that levitation was what caused the problem in the first place, I nodded. “Thanks.”
“My sweet girl.” Beatrice approached me, reaching up to cup my cheek with her soft, wrinkled hand. Even perched on the stool, I was still a few inches taller than her petite five-foot frame. “You’ve been here for weeks and I feel I’ve barely gotten to know you at all. I want to know everything. How you survived, how you’ve lived, where you’ve lived. I haven’t seen you since you were five!”
“I know, Beatrice. I’m sorry. Sometime soon, I’ll explain everything.”
“All right, my dear. When you’re ready.” She nodded, her gray eyes radiating concern.
It was hard to believe that this sweet woman with the shock of short white hair was a member of the government that had oppressed people like me for years. Or people who were like me. Even if I no longer technically belonged to that group, I’d always consider myself one of the Blighted. I’d spent most of my life as one of them, and the minute I forgot that, I feared the greed and corruption that afflicted so many of the Gifted would come for me too.
Darcy and Retta had reverted back to “servant” mode as soon as my grandmother walked in. They put their heads down and continued to work, becoming silent and almost invisible. But I knew they were listening.
I cleared my throat. “Actually, I was thinking maybe today I’d come with you to the palace, if that’s all right. I’d love to meet the other Representatives.”
Her face lit up, flushing with excitement to the roots of her white hair. “That would be wonderful! They’ve been asking about you, you know. It’s not every day someone thought to be lost to the Great Death returns to us. I think some of them are hoping their loved ones…” She trailed off. “But no. Those who died are gone for good. You are a miracle, and I thank the gods for it.”
She patted my cheek again, then stepped back, drawing herself up to her full diminutive height.
I wasn’t sure how to respond to her statement, and I didn’t like how the pain in her voice made me almost feel sorry for the Gifted. So instead of saying anything, I gulped down the rest of my coffee and headed to the sink to rinse out my mug.
Retta cleared her throat, and when I glanced up at her, she shook her head slightly. Her big eyes were wide.
Oh. Right.
Feeling like a grade-A asshole, I handed her my mug so she could wash it. Her palpable relief that I hadn’t stolen her job in front of my grandmother only made me feel worse.
Turning back to Beatrice, I spread my arms out, displaying my outfit. “Do I look okay for the palace?”
“Of course, my sweet girl! You look lovely.”
I almost rolled my eyes at that and saw Darcy lower her head to hide a smile.
“Are you sure?” I asked suspiciously.
“Completely.” Beatrice’s warm voice was firm. “Besides, who’s going to have anything to say about it? You’re the granddaughter of Representative Beatrice Lockwood, next in line for my position on the council, and a powerful mage in your own right. You could show up to the palace wearing nothing but a potato sack and no one would contradict you. And,” she added with a beaming smile, “I have no doubt you’d still look lovely.”
My hands dropped to my sides, and I blinked.
I’d known the Gifted government operated through nepotism and cronyism, as evidenced by the fact that no one currently in power had actually been elected to govern. But the full implications of that hadn’t occurred to me until now.
Did Christine mean for me to stay here indefinitely? To take my grandmother’s seat on the council someday and continue to work as an operative for the Resistance from the inside?
Was there no end to this assignment in sight?
I reached behind me, gripping the edge of the counter to steady myself.
No. That wasn’t possible.
There were four men waiting for me in that tiny, cramped apartment in the Outskirts, and my magic needed—no, I needed—to get back to them.
Chapter 3
Beatrice took a step toward me, her frail hand held out.
“Lana, dear girl, are you all right?”
Prying my grip away from the counter, I shook myself lightly, straightening my spine and pasting on a bright smile. The number of people who had asked me that in the last twenty-four hours was a clear sign I needed to work on my poker face.
“I’m fine… Grandma.” I forced the word out and was rewarded by the delighted smile that spread across her face. Hopefully that would distract her from how obviously not fine I was.
If I was going to make any progress in the palace, I needed to become a lot better at controlling, or at the very least hiding, my emotions.
I shot a glance over my shoulder as I followed Beatrice to the door. “Save some of that bread for me, will you, Darcy? And tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to cold pizza.”
“Of course, Miss Crow—er, Miss Lockwood.” She flushed when she fumbled my name in front of my grandmother, and Beatrice’s brow furrowed. Crap. I’d have to explain to her later that the slip was my fault, not the cook’s.
I’d insisted that Darcy and Retta use the name I still considered mine—Crow—instead of addressing me by what I now knew was my family name. Lockwood just didn’t feel right. As far as I was concerned, I was a Crow and always would be.
Before Beatrice’s driver pulled up to the house to take us to the palace, I darted back up to my room and slipped on the earrings enchanted with the communication charm. This was my first visit to the palace since the Grand Ball; I wanted to be able to reach the men quickly if anything went wrong.
My grandmother’s estate was in one of the richest parts of Denver, less than a ten-minute drive from the massive, grandiose People’s Palace. As we approached the gleaming, tiered white marble structure, I angled my head to peer out the window at it. It rose twelve stories high in the middle, staggering out to a lower height toward the ends of each wing.
I was intimately familiar with the fourth story roof at the tip of the southern wing. I’d leapt from
a window on the fifth floor and fought with a shifter guard on that roof two weeks ago. Luckily, no one at the palace knew that. The guard had died in our fight, and since I’d charmed him into helping me with my break-in, the Representatives assumed he’d turned traitor and gone rogue.
That took the attention off me, but I couldn’t shake off the twinge of guilt every time I pictured his lifeless body sprawled at the base of the palace. I never would’ve thought I’d feel bad about killing a shifter, especially in self-defense, but that was before I got to know one of them and realized a huge heart and wicked sense of humor were as much a part of him as his magic.
Thoughts of Fen crowded into my mind, followed quickly by thoughts of Jae, Akio, and Corin. All four of them had changed me so much in the short time we’d spent together. I was as committed to the Resistance’s opposition of the government as they were, but my four had actually made me reconsider what I thought I knew about the Gifted and the Touched.
They weren’t all bad.
I shook my head as we pulled to a stop outside the palace. Not something I ever thought I’d say.
There was no red carpet cascading down the outside steps like there had been when I arrived with Jae for the ball. Instead, several sharply dressed Gifted men stood on the steps talking animatedly. I recognized one of them as Jae’s father, Jonas Nocturne, the Minister of Justice.
A chill ran up my spine. “Minister of Justice” was just fancy politician speak for “the man who makes sure the Blighted stay in line.” Jonas was in charge of the Peacekeepers, the Gifted law enforcement division.
I’d wondered at first why Christine needed a spy in the palace when Jae already had a relative who worked here. But given the frosty relationship between Jae and his father, Jonas would probably be more willing to talk with me than with his son.
The driver—a fairy named Tarik with bright green hair and a sharp nose—pulled to a stop and hopped out to open the door for Beatrice. I quickly yanked the handle on my own door before he could do it for me. I’d sort of come to enjoy having the men I was bonded to open doors for me and help me out of cars, but I’d be damned if I let anyone else do it.
As I stepped out of the large black vehicle, Jonas looked up, his cold, calculating gaze falling on me. A smile swept across his face, missing his eyes entirely, and he walked down the wide steps toward us.
“Beatrice, how are you?” He caught her hand and kissed the back of it. A prickle of nerves skated down my spine as he did the same to me. “And you’ve brought your lovely granddaughter with you! I must admit, Ms. Lockwood, I hoped we’d have the pleasure of your presence at the palace sooner.”
“I was settling in,” I said demurely, tugging my hand back as fast as I could and—barely—resisting the urge to wipe it off on my dress.
His cool green eyes glittered, giving nothing away. They were so like Jae’s it was unsettling. But while Jae also held his emotions in check, there was a warmth in him that Jonas lacked completely.
“Well, we’re delighted to have you here now. I look forward to getting to know you better over the coming weeks. If there’s anything you need, please let me know. My son—” He broke off, laughing lightly to himself. “My son is not the best candidate to introduce you to the upper echelons of the Capital’s Gifted. I understand he may have been your only choice of companion for the Grand Ball since you were new to the city, but now that you’re settled here, I can connect you with anyone important you wish to meet.”
I bristled. While Jonas’s words had the unintended effect of making me like Jae even more, I hated how casually the man denigrated his own son. His little speech was clearly meant to make me rethink my association with Jae.
“Thanks,” I ground out, shoving my anger back down to simmer in my belly. “But actually, I think I’ll—”
“Jonas! Jonas, I was not finished speaking with you! I want an answer.” An older man with slick silver hair marched down the steps toward us, voice raised.
A flash of irritation flitted across Jonas’s face, but his features were smooth once again when he turned to face the man. “Our conversation was finished. I have no answer to give you, Simon. I’ll be making my full report to the council this morning, and you can listen to it then with the rest of the Representatives.”
“Your report isn’t what I’m concerned about. We already know what’s been happening. What I want to know is what you’re going to do about it!”
The new man had to be over sixty, but his face was disconcertingly smooth. Some kind of magical enhancement or anti-aging spell, probably. My ears perked up at his words, and I shot a furtive glance at Jonas.
“That will be included in my report. Until we know who is behind it, there’s little we can do. But believe me when I say I am pursuing this matter,” the Minister of Justice said staunchly.
“Unacceptable, Jonas! This is the—” The man broke off suddenly, his gaze landing on my grandmother. His angry expression softened, and he ran a hand over his already perfectly styled hair. “Good morning, Beatrice. You look lovely as ever today.”
“Good morning, Simon.” Her smile was almost girlish, and my eyebrows shot up.
Was I witnessing my grandmother flirt?
Jonas took advantage of Simon’s momentary distraction to nod goodbye to us and head toward the palace, walking up the broad steps at a fast clip. Simon glanced once more at my grandmother, seeming torn, then turned to follow the retreating man. “I will not be put off, Jonas! This is the third disappearance this month, and I won’t stand for any more of your empty reassurances. We need answers and a solid plan of…”
He continued ranting as a guard opened the palace door for the two men. When they passed out of earshot, I turned to Beatrice, brow furrowed. “What was that all about?”
She sighed and led me up the steps after them. “Just council business that has spilled out onto the front steps of the palace, I’m afraid.”
“It must be serious if the Minister of Justice is involved.”
“Yes, it is. And although Simon tends to worry excessively, I find it very concerning as well.”
I reached up to tug at the pins holding my hair in place as we approached the small group still lingering on the steps. I was used to wearing my hair down or in a simple ponytail, and every pin was either jabbing my skull or yanking at my scalp uncomfortably, making my head pound.
“He said ‘disappearances.’ What does that mean?” I probed.
“Gifted disappearances.”
The answer came from a broad-shouldered man with a shock of curly black hair that was thinning in front. He had a round face with a large nose and heavy brows, and his deep-set wrinkles gave him the appearance of bulldog.
“What?” I stared at him, not liking the way he’d inserted himself into my conversation with Beatrice.
“Gifted people, upstanding members of society, are being snatched. Disappeared. Taken who knows where.” He walked toward me as he spoke, spitting the words out as if they were a challenge, like he was trying to see if he could scare me.
“Victor!” Beatrice’s voice was sharp. “Save it for the council meeting, please.”
His mean little eyes shot to her, but he inclined his head slightly. “Sorry. No harm meant.” He turned back to me, tilting his head. “You must be the new Lockwood I’ve heard so much about.”
“Yep, that’s me.”
I didn’t offer him my hand, and—thank the gods—he didn’t reach for it. Screw the rules of polite society. This guy gave me the creeps, and if he tried to touch me, I wasn’t sure I could control my knee-jerk reaction to kick him in the balls.
Beatrice took my elbow and gently steered me away from the group. The palace doors opened as we entered, and our footsteps echoed off the soaring ceiling as we crossed the smooth marble floor.
“I’m sorry about Victor,” she murmured, shaking her head with a scowl. “Representative Kruger isn’t the friendliest sort. He stepped into his position on the council five years ago a
fter his father died, and he’s never really adjusted to a life of politics. He was one of those who went out attacking and lynching the Blighted after the Great Death, and I don’t think he’s fully accepted that things have changed since that time.”
Acid rose up my throat as my stomach soured. I threw a glance back toward the huge entrance doors, but Victor was out of sight.
Fuck. That explained why my hackles immediately rose when I met him. The man radiated a casual cruelty that made every word he spoke sound like a threat.
I filed the information away to pass on to Christine later, along with the revelation that Gifted people were disappearing.
Was that the work of the Resistance? I’d never heard Christine or the guys mention anything about it, though that didn’t necessarily mean much. I hadn’t been working with the Resistance very long, and Christine still didn’t fully trust me. She might have kept their more covert ops a secret.
I chewed my lip as I followed Beatrice up the stairs to the fifth floor. She was pointing out various features of the palace, from the detailed molding to the elaborate chandeliers and wall sconces lit by magic. I hardly cared. The opulence around me had been built off the blood and sweat of hundreds of Blighted men and women; that was all I needed to know.
And besides, something far more urgent was burrowing its way into my mind—a thought that left me cold.
What Victor had described didn’t sound like something the Resistance might have done.
It sounded like something I had done.
For years, I’d made my living as a mercenary and bounty hunter, delivering my catches to unknown clients. On more than one occasion, my target had been one of the Gifted or Touched.
I’d never bothered to worry much about who I was performing these tasks for. The magical elite were well known for bickering and backstabbing amongst themselves, and I’d figured I was doing the world a favor by helping them cull their own ranks. But as I’d discovered after I tried and failed to kill Akio, that wasn’t always the case. The incubus had been targeted by someone inside the government because he was part of the Resistance, not for some petty slight.
