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“Erebria above…” Jarek dragged his hand over his face. “You sent Croll with her?”

“Croll knows more about ghosted technology than Lilith.” Kyer’s face soured. “Eh. On second thought, I’m going to make you one of my assurances, Atwood. You’ll go tonight. Make sure she hasn’t wandered off too far.”

He already planned on it. “Is that right? Have you forgotten I’ve unfinished business in Berkton I need to take care of first?”

Kyer arched a brow. “Oh. You mean the supply collecting duties you’ve been neglecting in favor of shadow walking to Failen? Have you even set foot in Markoth, or have you been too busy with ignoring my orders to stay out of the empire?” He clicked his tongue. “Since you’ve made it clear that supplies sit at the bottom of your priorities, you’ll have plenty of free time to keep an eye on our up-and-coming Wraith—who, may I remind you, is among those you promised to make amends to. Unless apologies have also slipped down the list as well?”

If he’d been raised by anyone other than Valen, color would’ve drained from Jarek’s face at the scolding. “What did you tell her?”

“More than you have, apparently.”

Jarek stiffened. It wouldn’t be so damn difficult if he could stand looking at her for longer than a couple of seconds.

Sterling was quick to latch onto Jarek’s tension. He pressed his hand to his lips to stifle his laugh, but his amusement was beyond apparent.

He skidded beside Jarek and pulled him close with one arm. “Serene saints! Is the big bad Hazevale scared of one little Evelian? How precious! If it helps relieve some tension, I’ll get that job done for you, my friend. It’s no trouble at all.”

Jarek stayed patient and mild tempered for Kyer, but lords above did he feel like listening to the snap of his first lieutenant’s neck.

Kyer knew exactly what he was doing with that infuriating smile crossing his face. “Get that done and keep her alive or don’t come back at all. Easy enough?”

No. Not at all. Jarek didn’t like thinking about what happened, let alone speaking it into existence.

Then why was offering an apologetic explanation to Amalia so easy? There was no reason he couldn’t give the Wraith what he gave the Gnaw. Amalia forgave him, maybe Lilith would too?

The delicate lavender of her eyes burned a hole straight into his anxiety. Keara saved him, and she damned him. He wanted the Wraith’s forgiveness as much as he wanted it as far away from him as possible.

An apology could never change anything, and he didn’t deserve her forgiveness if she gave it.

He sighed. That shouldn’t be a reason to keep it from her.

“Fine,” Jarek choked out. “When did she arrive?”

“Three days ago. And hopefully keeping a good distance from Crypt Keeper Caiven.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Waiting around for something to happen wasn’t a new concept to Lily, but this particular job was especially tedious.

Her feet thoughtlessly carried her along the brick wall and back. Across from her, beyond the barren bones of the garden, was the entrance to the armory. Pacing that wall was another guard in identical armor. It was decent—light, yet durable. The boots were soft soled; the gauntlets were stretchy and the gloves thick. Helmets with black visors covered their faces, and each were given a pistol made of steel to be returned at the end of their shift.

Kyer assured her his source understood the inner workings of the distribution operation before sending her. Her heart still refused to calm since her first post in fear anyone might be able to point her out. She even colored her hair using charcoal like she used to in Reave before deciding it was easier just shaving it off.

But no one paid her mind. Everyone was focused on one of Caiven’s frequent festivities. The head of security often hired more guards for the events since Caiven used the gatherings as opportunities to vet potential business partners, and Lily fit right in.

She caught sight of the master of the house only once—on her second day, hurrying through the courtyard and up the stairs to the rotunda, surrounded by a group of men all dressed in black suits, looking more like a flock of vultures pecking at bloated roadkill.

A behemoth of a man, he stood as tall as he was wide. Lily didn’t catch his face, but he wore a black suit like the rest of his cronies. Lumpy knobs of scar tissue littered his shoulders and upper back, pushing up against the fiber of his coat, adding to his already menacing stature.

Kyer confirmed that the Diseased partner Kael, the smuggler Reina and Xavier worked for in Reave, was Caiven. He lived without using escence, refusing to take it out of preference. He liked keeping his head clear, but because of it, using his beastshifting ability killed him, only for his soul to reanimate him. The scarring was his price to pay on the off chance he did use his blessing.

It was her third day here, and she hadn’t seen him since.

Smuggling was truer to its nature in Gridian. The largest city in the middle of Eocera was rich in agriculture and provided Ironfall the bulk of their food in exchange for protection with the Swarm and from it. No longer a picturesque utopia Lily’s mother used to read about in stories before bed, it was now overcrowded and completely in Brialis’ strongbox. It reminded her of Reave in that way.

But Failen’s generosity died at promises not to harvest the land’s souls. Gridian’s technology and sciences were as inept as the rest of Eocera. It made the market for ghosted technology or Reatian medicine rich.

Which was where Caiven came in. His monopoly on the empire’s advanced weaponry stretched to the rest of the provinces, and he hid it all under his distribution company, moving it in and out of Gridian. Kyer wanted his private stash in his estate outside of the city, and with the head exposed, the Swarm would take care of his business in town.