She had no friends. She had no family. Her closest acquaintances were those from whom she purchased supplies every month, and those people were despicable. The longest conversation she’d carried with another living person aside from vendors had been with Aline, and only recently. Tiny Aline…and her murderous brother.
Perhaps there was a way to needle what information she could from them. Imagined or real. Either way, she felt she needed to know their theories. Or, at least,histheories. Especially as they seemed to cast a very dismal light upon her.
Lux still wasn’t sure why she’d allowed herself to be so bothered by what the prowler said. Maybe, deep down, she’d begun to feel it herself. Feel that she could do more, should be doing more, rather than watching silently as the town further decayed in its rot. Though he clearly didn’t understand how necromancyworked,and she certainly was nopet.Anyone could see from her small home and even smaller pantry that she only charged what allowed her to live comfortably. She never accepted anything more—even when the mayor had offered.
He’d stopped long ago though; she’d refused him enough times. Ghadra’s mayor was short, nearly eye-level with Lux herself, with watering eyes and a stubbed nose, beneath which rested a curling, white mustache above an ever-present leer. A mocking smile that often led a person to believe the mayor knew something they did not.
Which was undoubtedly true.
Following her parents’ deaths, the mayor had been the first to offer refuge. Of course, at eight years old, she had much to learn. He had immediately sought to move her into his mansion,dumping lavish gifts upon her, and boasted to all who would listen of his necromancer.
Lux was naïve and lonely, and she went for a time. But living within the mansion was like another world, separate entirely from Ghadra. The air was cleaner, the rooms lavish; the food was decadent, unlike anything she’d eaten before or since.
The people, however, were too much to bear. Every sentence held a double meaning, every compliment a hidden barb. They couldn’t be openly cruel to her—what if they required her very particular services one day? Instead, they had counted on her innocent child’s mind and limited experiences to shield her from understanding the rules of their wicked games.
But it was the repetition of subtle cruelties that left the deepest wounds, and when it had grown to where Lux felt the stinging even while alone, she’d known she had to leave. She’d packed her things that very night, and without a word to anyone, she’d climbed inside a carriage and left. The thought of going back to her home, however, had left her panic-stricken. Images of blood-splattered walls shrouded her mind though those walls had long been wiped clean.
She’d arrived on her aunt’s darkened, abandoned stoop. She had managed to muscle her way inside, left nursing a scraped, sore shoulder and eyeing a door that would forever possess a grating creak. Riselda had been gone less than a year, and already dust and cobwebs had graced every nook and corner, but it’d been familiar. It had possessed good memories, and it felt like home. Or at least, it had held potential for what a home could be.
Over the years, Lux had stayed out of the mayor’s business, and he stayed out of hers—so long as she was readily available should he or his family have need of her. Though, even then, she’d placed boundaries.
She’d perform her craft as many times as requested, but they must come to her. To lie upon the table just as every other lifeless body before it, because she refused to ever step foot into that mansion again. It came as little surprise they’d agreed to her terms so readily.
With a puffed breath through her cheeks, Lux rose from the stool. Moonlight embraced the streets outside in shifts as ever-present clouds roamed the night sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw pure, unobstructed starlight. Maybe never. The hour grew late, but the table’s contents were too precious to leave in the state they were currently. Even though the only thing she longed for was to nestle deep within a mound of blankets, she forced herself to stack them neatly away first.
A grinding scrape upended the quiet.
Lux halted mid-step, listening. She couldn’t tell where the sound had come from. Her eyes skittered across the dimly lit walls.
The scrape came again. Louder.
She tossed the last couple books into the corner, eyeing the floorboards of her living room with widening eyes and growing confusion. This didn’t sound like any mouse she’d ever met. The rug jumped, and she yelped.
Somethingmovedbeneath it.
“Enough of this nonsense.” With clenched teeth, she tentatively reached forward, clutched the farthest bit of hem on the thick rug—and yanked.
A set of eyes blinked up at her.
A trapdoor. Its seams melded along the floorboards so flawlessly, she’d never noticed it. Not that she’d ever thought to look. Now, here it was, raised the barest fraction, as an interloper studied her as curiously as ifshewere the one trespassing upon its domain.
She stumbled back on a cry.
“Lucena?”
Her heart skittered and skipped. She knew that voice. Sheknewthat name. But no, it couldn’t be. Lux bent awkwardly, peering in the inadequate light. “Riselda?”
It couldn’t be, and yet the trapdoor flung wide, revealing a cloaked, hooded figure as she climbed from within the impenetrable gloom surrounding her.
Before Lux could absorb the familiar wintry beauty of her aunt, she’d been wrapped within arms that encircled her so completely, she nearly sagged beneath the intense sensations it sent bounding through her. When a kiss was pressed to her brow, she had to bite her lip. Riselda’s soft arms tightened about her in a reassuring pulse before stepping back.
“How is this possible?” Her aunt’s musical voice doused the room before dropping to a whisper, “Are you alone?”
Long-fingered hands rubbed the length of Lux’s forearms sending goosebumps rippling up their length.
Her mind rattled in shock, her face gone numb. She lifted a hand to ensure her nose remained where it should. “I’m alone. I’ve been alone.”
Riselda’s expression dimmed. “Your parents?”
