Page 52

I push open the doors to the common area and step into the low murmur of the Academy waking. Slayers sit scattered throughout the room, eating breakfast, nursing coffee.

I smell blood immediately. Jarek pushes through the front doors, leathers and hands slick with red. No one looks up or flinches. Death is not a disruption here; it’s just part of the routine. He passes me without a word, the scent of iron and final breaths clinging to him. I reach for a blue ceramic mug that catches my eye and fill it to the brim with black coffee, a splash of cream, and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

When I turn back around, Jarek is already gone.

I make my way back upstairs. Not ten minutes after the door clicks shut behind me, a knock sounds, as expected. The door opens and Archer steps in first, Thalos just behind him. I don’t acknowledge him right away. I stand at the tall windows, hands folded loosely behind my back, looking out over the town below. I let the silence stretch, let him take me in on my terms.

“Captain Archer,” I hiss as I turn to face him. “We finally meet.” He takes a few steps forward and stops on the other side of the desk.

He’s massive, broad, with one eye gleaming pure gold, sharp and knowing. The other is clouded and scarred. Coins, threaded through their center holes, are braided into his beard. They clink softly when he moves. His layers of navy fabric, adorned with intricate patterns, speak to his earned wealth more than the coins do. He smells of the sea and his early glass of rum, as most pirates do.

Archer’s name may be legendary, but he was bested once by someone far younger than him. Embarrassing, honestly.

“About time,” he says. His voice is dark and jagged.

I straighten, letting my gaze travel over him without apology, cataloging, assessing, peeling back layers the way I would with an open wound. He watches me do it, unbothered.

I gesture toward the chair opposite my desk. When he sits, I look at Thalos and nod to the door, dismissing him. He slips out, closing the door behind him with a final, decisive click. Archer may be dangerous to others, but to me he’s just another man. And men all break the same way if you strike the right places. Silly, naive creatures.

I mirror his posture, folding into my seat with deliberate calm. “Neressa,” he says. “You’re the lass who took down my most important business partner?”

I narrow my eyes, irritation flaring hot and fast. He knows exactly who I am and he knew it long before I struck down Silas. “Don’t play me for a fool,” I snap.

A low laugh rumbles from his chest. He reaches into his coat. My hand lifts instantly, hovering just above my dagger strapped within easy reach.

“Oh, relax,” Archer says mildly. “I was only going to ask if you’d allow me a smoke.” He pulls out a pipe and a match, holding them up between two fingers, waiting to see if I flinch.

I nod once. “How polite of you to ask.”

I watch him strike the match against his boot, the flame flaring before catching. It hisses softly as he draws on the pipe, smoke curling from his mouth and threading through the sunlight. He grins to reveal blackened teeth.

I have to hold myself back from recoiling at the sight. Sometimes, I don’t envy a pirate’s life. I value my appearance too much for that.

His eyes wander around the large room, memorizing every inch. Great, now I want to move everything again. “It seems you’ve made yourself comfortable.” I continue watching him take in his surroundings, dismissing his comment.

“Now, what can I do for you?” I ask as the smoke makes its way over to me.

“I have a job,” he says. “It pays very well and I’d suggest you take it.” The condescension sparks something hot and immediate in my chest. Heat flares, and I force an even breath to stop it spreading to my face.

“I care very little about the suggestions of others. You may be a pirate legend, but my reputation reaches far wider than yours,” I reply coolly, my gaze never leaving his.

A slow chuckle rolls from him. “Ah. I see.” He tilts his head, studying me now with open interest. “You know, Neressa, I do know you. And if anyone is fit to take over this academy, it’s you.” He takes another pull from his pipe before continuing, voice deceptively casual.

“But I do wonder…” His gold eye gleams. “How did you manage to take down Silas? The man had years of experience on you.” The question hangs between us like a challenge. Even with the advantage of the raven, Silas was the most challenging opponent I’ve ever faced. I’m lucky to even be alive after him.

“Well, Archer,” I say with a faint smile, “that secret is best left buried with him.” His clouded eye tracks me, missing nothing.

“Hm.” The fire crackles in a beat of silence. “You are intelligent. He trained you well.” He draws from his pipe. “Finally killed all your mentors now, aye?”

“You’ve done your homework,” I reply, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms. “Which means you must know I don’t waste time. Even with you.” With how he’s challenging me right now I can’t help but think: he would lose in a fight against me even if I gave him a five second head start.

The atmosphere tightens. “So this job,” I continue. “Why are you so unwilling to risk your life completing it yourself?”

Archer crinkles his face, years at sea and under the sun evident from his leathery skin. “I need you to complete this job,” he says simply, refusing outright to answer my question. He reaches into his coat and produces a blood mark, tossing it on the desk. I wonder for a short moment if he uses the same witch Silas used to make the blood marks. Each one is bound by magic. But then again, which witch did Silas go to?

At first glance, my heart drops straight to the pit of my stomach. The royal seal stares back at me. The king. I’m so sick and tired of this man, and I know the pattern of running into him has only just begun.

“You recognize the crest, aye?” Archer smirks at my expression.