“A job,” he corrects. “With the Mists so far north, many larks are getting lost for cycles, and this mission is time sensitive.”
“I see.”
He pushes back his hood to reveal hair like oil sheets dripping past his shoulders, embellished with a red bead that stands out against the black. His pale skin shows off the veins in his temples, neck, and hands, his face so angular he reminds me of the wordsharp.A memorable face.
Certainly not someone I’ve seen before, despite his familiar voice.
“And how did Sereme discover I survived?”
“The miskunn saw you here this dae, standing where you are.”
Uno?
Surely not. Very few know about her, and I doubt Ruse truststhissmug-faced stranger with the precious knowledge of her existence.
“I wasn’t aware there’s a miskunn loyal to the Ath.”
He clasps his hands before him, looking down his nose at me. “The Elding has a young one in his care, yes.”
My eyes narrow. “I’ve never seen this miskunn before, nor has the Elding seenme.” I dance my blade between my fingers. All I can do to temper the unease chipping at me. “Given neither of them know what I look like, you’re either lying or there’s something you’re not telling me. Which is it?”
His responding silence does nothing to ease my raised hackles. In fact, it plants a bulb of distrust so deep it immediately takes root.
I flick the blade high. Catch it. “Secrets shovel graves,grunt.”
His eyes darken. “I would not threaten me, Elding Blade. And it’s EldingSquire, to you—”
“Fancy.”
“My orders come straight from the Elding himself. To threaten me is to threaten our master.”
I huff a humorless laugh. “Given he appears to condone Sereme torturing me from afar, using our blood bind to bring me to my knees whenever he wants me to dance, I’m not sure I give a shit. Not anymore.”
In fact, I’m done here.
“Find me when the Ath remembers its values and you locate some fucking manners,” I mutter, charging for the bridge.
I’m just stuffing my blade away when his voice chases me, stilling my feet.
“The fate of The Flourishdependson you, Elding Blade.”
My lips twitch, thoughts turning to all the folk I’ve had escorted to The Flourish over my phases in The Fade working under Sereme.
Younglings. Nulls. Vulnerable folk beaten down by the world, in desperate need of a soft landing.
I look back over my shoulder. “Explain.”
The Elding Squire pulls a parchment lark from his pocket and gives the wriggling thing a blow.
It darts straight for my chest, bumping against me until I snatch it, cutting a glance at the Elding Squire before I get to work unfolding the pleats. Catch a second, smaller fold of parchment that falls free.
I open it, revealing a map.
OfBhoggith.
Frowning, I set to reading the note, my lips pinching at the sight of Sereme’s scrawled text.
Raeve.
