Calem pursed his lips as Ozias placed a hand on his shoulder, shoving him after Kost and me. Once we were locked behind the door of my bedroom, exhaustion and disappointment and frustration with myself added weight to my limbs. I slumped into the sofa at the foot of the bed.
“It’s weird to see you so…agitated,” Ozias said as he took an armchair across from me. Calem followed suit, lips still pressed into a thin line, and dropped into another chair before propping his feet up on the coffee table between us. Kost leaned against the doorframe, and I stared past him through the open windows at the endless horizon, where the ink-black ocean and onyx night met. Darkness. Always darkness.
“What has gotten into you?” Calem asked.
I formed a steeple with my fingers and rested my elbows against my knees. My silver ring beamed at me, the glint of the emerald catching in the low light of the room. Like Leena, I rotated it around my finger. I had so many secrets. Secrets only Kost knew, but now wasn’t the time. Now, I needed to know if they were on my side.
“I’m not going to kill Leena.”
A low hiss escaped Kost, but Ozias beat him to the punch. “What about you? The oath?”
Three pairs of eyes slanted to my wrist. I slipped my hands into my pockets to hide the mark from view. “I’m not keen on dying, but there is a way out of this.”
Kost pushed off from the wall, fists trembling by his sides. “I strongly advise against this. Think of the guild. Think of everyone depending on you.”
“What’s he talking about?” Calem stood slowly. “Noc?”
Kost’s voice was even. “We’d have to kill the person who contracted Cruor for the job. The bounty would disappear with their life. However…” He tipped his head to the ceiling. “You realize what this would do to Cruor.”
“Our reputation would be shot. No one has ever reneged a job before.” Calem’s shoulders drooped. “We’re already not allowed to live in any city sanctioned by Wilheim. If we lose our only means of work, how will we keep the guild afloat?”
Leaning back into the couch, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “The king won’t risk cutting ties with Cruor—not when it means his Sentinels stay safe. As far as other private jobs go…we’ll manage.”
Steely and brimming with ire, Kost pinned me with his stare. “You’re forgetting a key element here.”
“And what is that?”
“We don’t know who placed the bounty.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but my words died before reaching my tongue.
You will no longer be dealing with her. Her time is better spent elsewhere.
A woman had placed the hit on Leena’s head. Not her glorified lackey. Not the man with the close-shaved beard. A fist clenched my gut and wrung it tight, sending bile up the back of my throat.
Kost kept coming, fury fueling his tirade. “And even if you do miraculously find out who placed the original bounty—which is impossible, given we don’t even know what she looks like—how are you going to kill her? Did I mention she’s a Charmer? Aren’t we all innately aware of what a Charmer can do? Let alone one who’s probably living in Hireath with hundreds, maybe thousands, of other Charmers. Tell me, Noc, is letting Leena go worth it? Worth all of this?”
“Kost.” Ozias stood, placing a gentle hand on his heaving chest. “That’s enough.”
Calem rubbed the back of his neck. “It does seem like a lot, Noc. Why?”
Why indeed. Because she wasn’t guilty? They’d only want a better answer. It wasn’t on us to pass judgment. We executed orders. Plus, no one wanted to take a step back and evaluate their kills. How many innocents we’ve likely claimed for the sake of bits.
In our world, innocence wasn’t good enough.
Rough and pained with something I couldn’t place, Kost’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You’re developing feelings for her, aren’t you?”
My answer was swift, harsh. “No.”
“Don’t try to deny it.”
Burying my head in my hands, I barely had the strength to speak. “Just let me save her, Kost. Please. Let me do for her what I couldn’t do for the others.”
Ozias’s voice was low, curious. “Others?”
I dragged my fingers down my face before dropping my hands into my lap. Some secrets were just meant to be spilled. “I’m cursed. If I show affection—any kind of deep, true affection—to another person, they die. Always.”
Calem stood, pacing back and forth behind the armchairs. “What, you mean like physically?”
