I shouldn’t have called another beast. I should have held on to some of my power reserves in case danger reared its head in the form of an assassin. Law of hospitality in place or not, I didn’t trust them. I was alone in a den of murderers, each one appraising my body and abilities as if I were a weapon and not a person. I needed a little comfort.
“C’mere, you.” Poof was a Groober. A round, fluffy beast with white fur softer than rabbit’s fluff. With stubby arms and legs, he wasn’t much of a fighter, but he was a mean cuddler, and his scent glands emitted a potent mixture of lavender and valerian to aid with sleep.
Wrapped in my arms, he nestled in the crook of my shoulder, purring into my neck. Fat tears broke over my lids. “You’re just as special as any A-Class beast.” Kneading the space between his ears, I worked my fingers over his fur. Oils perfumed the air.
I never imagined a life where I’d sell the very things that made my existence bearable. And yet here I was, doing exactly that. All because I’d trusted Wynn. Years of devotion and love, and for what? To become a scapegoat? My exile was his fault, and yet I had been the one to lose everything.
And now Noc.
A chill raked over my skin. He was exactly the wrong kind of person to be around. Deadly and intriguing and too damn cunning. The type of person who could coax secrets from lips that had long since been sealed.
But not me. Not ever. If I could survive Noc, use him to get what I needed—blood from him or one of his brethren, just like he was using me to get his beasts—I might have a chance to clear my name.
I might still have a future.
Five
Leena
Even with the help of Poof, sleep was fitful. Dreams toed the line between memories and reality as I once again walked the familiar paths of Hireath. My home. Charmers and beasts roaming through the open meadows. Children’s wild laughter floating down from the trees as they raced across bridges. The brilliant indigo night dotted with stars and a hand wrapped in mine.
Wynn.
But his grip turned angry, and suddenly I was cast out and running, alone and trapped in the Kitska Forest with monsters nipping at my heels.
And then I ran straight into a pair of open arms that were as cold as ice. Caged in a frigid prison, I should have been scared. But that unnerving chill exploded outward in a sheet of snow, and the Kitska Forest was gone. Fears destroyed. Until I looked up and found sharp black eyes as distant as they were menacing. Noc took one look at me trapped in his embrace and smiled, canines elongating to deadly fangs. Shadows devoured us whole. I lost sight of him and tumbled into an endless pit, flailing until I’d moved so much in my sleep that I rolled right out of bed and crashed onto the floor.
Early-morning light sliced through the space where curtains met, and I groaned. Cool tile bit through my clothing and sent a shiver down my back. I pushed myself up and rubbed the back of my head, wincing.
At least I was alive. I’d half expected to wake up with a knife to my throat.Something.Anything that would’ve indicated I’d taken up with a guild full of murderers. But aside from the self-induced lump forming at the base of my skull, I was unharmed. Maybe they honored their promises. I could only hope they’d do the same when it came to my bounty.
I made my way to the bathroom to relieve myself and bathe, rushing through the process so as not to leave myself vulnerable for too long. When I emerged with a fluffy towel wrapped tight around my body, I came to an abrupt stop at the foot of my bed.
Clothes?A coffee-brown corset with thick straps and a buckle was laid out beside a pair of tan breeches. My nerves prickled. I was sure I’d been in the bathroom for less than ten minutes, and I hadn’t heard a sound from my room. A scrap of parchment was neatly folded on top of the pants. I opened it to find a single line written with loopy flourishes:
These should fit.
Part of me wanted the clothing to miss the mark. Too snug on the hips or too loose around my waist. Proof that these assassins couldn’t care less about my comfort. Anything that made sense and matched the whispered warnings about their kind.
The outfit fit like a second skin.
Mumbling, I shoved my feet back into my boots and ignored their angry protests. I paused at the door, hand poised just above the knob. Where exactly was I going? What could I even do? Escape wasn’t an option. If they could assess when it was safe to enter my room without me knowing, then they most certainly had eyes and ears pinned on me at all times. Not like escape was reallyvalidanyway. I needed the bounty gone. I had to work with them.
I pulled the door open and stepped out into the quiet hall. The long corridor was marked with rows of doors, some with light slipping beneath the cracks and others entirely dark. A few assassins walked together toward the stairs. They paused when they saw me, easy smiles strained and words caught in their throats. After a moment, they nodded a hello and kept moving, voices lower than before.
Where was the threat? The promise of death? Sure, Noc had said I’d be safe in his home, but was that really all it took? Scratching my head, I followed their path downstairs to find the foyer crowded with life. Four members of the infamously deadly Cruor were huddled around a low coffee table with a tiered game board stretched out before them. Ebony, ivory, ruby, and emerald pieces of varying sizes were stationed across the levels. My brows inched together. A game from Wilheim? I didn’t recognize it. One man knocked over a tower with a glittering ruby knight and laughed as the person next to him scowled.
A few more assassins loitered near the mantel, talking with animated hands and wide grins. Another sat alone at a writing desk, scratching words on yellowing parchment with a quill.
It was all so…normal. One of the gamers knocked out another tower, and the howl of laughter mingled with the skittering of glass across tile. The tower tumbled against my boot, and I bent down to retrieve it.
“Sorry about that,” one of them called. Earnest eyes searched my face with obvious curiosity. “Do you mind?” He stretched out his hand.
“Oh. Sure.” I walked toward him and dropped the game piece into his waiting palm.
“Want to play?”
“Um.” I glanced around at the four of them. Not an ounce of trepidation was visible on their faces. Blatant interest, maybe, but that was common when people met a Charmer. We never left the safety of our hidden city. I studied the game board for a moment, but then my stomach struck with an audible growl. “Maybe after I eat.”
