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Chapter One
Kya
Ididn’t ask to be born into this life, to become who I was. Fate was a cruel force beyond my comprehension. Inescapable and ruthless, caring for nothing but its own will. I didn’t fear death. I pressed against it, waiting to be pushed into the endless void of the After. I walked the shadowed line, always teetering on the edge of life. No, I didn’t fear death. It had always followed me. What I did fear was life. However short it may be…
But the same could not be said for this male as he cowered against the stone wall, trying to dig out the poisoned arrow as the inky black liquid crawled its way toward his heart. The vibrations of his weakening heartbeat pulsed through the floor and to my feet just outside the cracked-open door. I could feel it in my bones as each beat became slower and slower, my own heart calm and steady. Brown eyes bored into me from across the bedchamber; a plea to spare him from this fate.
He would receive no mercy from me.
I had no intention of taking his life tonight, only to retrieve what was not his and getting out. But once I saw the monster within, the vile things he had done to those who didn’t deserve it, I couldn’t leave him to roam the world.
Eamon will not be pleased. Neither will Nik, for that matter.
This was supposed to be a simple job. Get the book. Get out. I wasn’t supposed to take justice into my own hands. That wasn’t what a Roav did. But it was whatIdid, when the opportunity presented itself.
And why shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t I leave this world better while I can?
Taking an unworthy life had never bothered me.
My nostrils flared at the pungent odor of fear as I lowered my wooden bow, squeezed through the opening of the door, and approached him. His eyes were trained on my hooded face as he slumped to his knees and braced an arm on the edge of the overly extravagant bed. Flame-lit sconces reflected off the gray stone walls in the large bedchamber, his body darkened by my shadow as I towered over him.
I reveled in the feeling of his thin body kneeling before me, heartbeat quivering through the stone of the room and humming up my skin. I bent down so my masked face was level with his, my dark brown braid falling over my shoulder.
I could sense the other figure shaking with terror in the corner. My eyes flicked to his battered victim as she fumbled to pull down the tattered remains of her gown back over her bruised hips. I would get to her later.
Holding the male’s stare, a tiny bit of satisfaction filled me. He must have seen something in my eyes, for his own widened in horror and the color drained from his already pale face.
Good. He should fear me.
I relished his terror and felt no shame in doing so. He brought this upon himself. I wouldn’t have interfered with him if he hadn’t been such a fucked up bastard. If I hadn’t found him over the female, laughing while she begged for him to stop.
“P-plea-se,” he stuttered, his jaw clenched from the pain of the arrow embedded deep in his chest. Terror made his voice scratchy as he pleaded for his pathetic life. I rolled my eyes.
They always begged.
“I-I’ll give you anything you want. I swear to the Gods,” he gritted through yellow teeth. “Anything!”
I tilted my head toward him and narrowed my eyes, irritated with his bargaining. “Your life holds no value.” My voice was cold and calm, concealing my rage.
His mouth turned into a sneer and he attempted to spit at me, but the blood-stained saliva just dribbled down his stubbly chin. He tried to throw a gust of wind to push me back, but with his air abilities weakened, it simply ruffled my cloak.
I chuckled at his feeble effort. Air wielders. Always so relentless.
“Roav bitch,” he mumbled, fury etched on his face.
My eyes narrowed to slits. I leaned forward, close enough to his face that I could smell his rancid breath. He grunted and hunched over as I slowly pulled the arrow out of his chest, my gloved hand avoiding the tip. Even with the severity of this wound, he would heal quickly, as all fae do. However, my arrows were laced with the toxic oil from the stem of the Onyx Flower—a beautiful flower that only bloomed at night, with petals that glistened in the light of our two moons. Once it entered the bloodstream, the poison hardened the victim’s veins, not stopping until it reached the heart. Anything it touched suffered a slow and painful death. It was called the Onyx Kiss for the black blood visible even through the thick flesh of fae, like the one before me. His skin was already tinted gray from the venom. It wouldn’t be long now.
I left him to bleed. He didn’t deserve a quick death—let him suffer for his repulsive pleasures.
I turned and carefully approached the other figure cowering in the corner of the room, wedged between the wall and a mahogany armoire. Her pulse raced with trepidation as I neared, and I flinched at her fear. I knew I wasn’t exactly a welcomesight, with my tight black leathers and my face masked, but surely she understood that I wasn’t her enemy—seeing as I had just sentenced her captor to death.
I squatted down and pulled my mask below my chin, smiling warmly at the captive. My eyes softened as I revealed a friendly face. She seemed taken aback by the change in my demeanor, but her shoulders fell with relief.
I gently reached out to the iron chains twisted around the girl’s hands. She hissed as I removed them from her raw skin, then I set them aside and made quick work of the ones around her ankles.
“Are you alright?” I asked softly, while my eyes roamed over her, looking for any apparent injuries that could prevent her from moving. Thankfully, I only found a tiny cut already healing on her delicate cheek and slight burns on her wrists and ankles—that said nothing for the wounds she likely bore on the inside. We needed to get out of here quickly, and although she was petite, I wasn’t sure I could carry her. She gave me a shaky nod, her dark brown eyes watering with tears.
Offering her my gloved hand, she took it as the tears began to fall, streaking down her dirt-smeared face. I carefully pulled her to her feet, noticing her torn dress and the filth coating her long golden hair. Her pointed ears peeked out from the tangles, framing her fair face. After making sure she could stand independently, I let go of her hand, and she wrapped her arms around herself, glancing down at the floor as if in shame.
