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I have so many choices,Greshta continued, her accent thick. The girl hadn’t been sure if the gods truly had an accent or if she’d made it up in her head.Which lucky little peon should I grant this wish?
Pick someone hungry. Let's get two prayers taken care of with one answer,Nathalian interjected, in his deep baritone voice.
The girl pressed her fingers to her temples wishing they would all just shut up. If she could do anything she would find a way to make them as miserable as they made her.
Oh, Ace,Tamar whispered,don't make that face it will give you wrinkles.
Ace. The new name she'd given herself after she'd been reborn. She'd needed a new identity; she felt like a new person. Maybe she was. No, she definitely was. The gods used her name often and she regretted taking a name at all.
She didn’t care about wrinkles or how she looked. Not anymore. The gods may have brought her back but they'd used the same body she'd been born into nineteen years ago. Her first living breath when she'd been returned to this world had burned all the way down her throat. An angry white jagged scar that looked like marble against her brown skin remained at the base of her neck. Her eyes, once brown, now glowed an unnatural orange. Just. Like. Holy. Fire.
"Not now," Ace hissed under her breath drawing the attention of the mother and her daughter. When they caught her shadowy figure, the mother quickly pulled the child away. She'd have to keep an eye on them to make sure they didn’t stop to talk to any of the number of guards strutting around. Ace’s teeth dug into the flesh of her bottom lip as she watched them walk away.
You'll wish you paid attention to the 'now' years down the road.Tamar's presence in her head disappeared with the breathy sound of her voice as she withdrew, undoubtedly offended.
"Watch it!" A man shouted to a passing carriage as it barreled down the road. Dust flew behind it filling the air until Ace could taste it on her tongue and it burned her lungs.
She snapped her attention across the busy street to the market booth she'd been watching. The warlocks in service to the queen stood dutifully talking to any person with interest. All their grimoires with otherwise meaningless spells were set out. Anything darker, anything forbidden, was behind the stand.Ifthere were any.
There is,Ramdon, the god of mischief confirmed. Of all the gods Ramdon might have been Ace's favorite. He didn’t bother her with silly requests to answer all of his prayers but he was always there when she was ready to get in trouble. Which was nearly all of the time.
A large hungry grin split across her face as she searched out the guards no longer at their posts.Shift change!Gripping the material of her cloak to keep her hood in place, she made her move. With downcast eyes, she knew her window of opportunity was slipping away. Time weighed down on her. She’d have to be swifter than ever before. In the early months after her resurrection, she would have panicked over the odds stacked against her. Now, something more akin to enthusiasm raced through her as she neared her target.
Still, she didn’t godirectlyto the grimoires. That’d be too obvious. Passing people brushed against her, the occasional shoulder jostling her, followed by an insincere apology. They were all just a haze around her—obstacles to be avoided on her way. No matter where she went in the market she kept her eyes downcast, hiding the inhuman coloring.
Next to the warlocks was a stand covered in trinkets of the gods. Small blown glass creations, metal forged into the shapes of what their faces may or may not look like, lawn statues, and smaller statues for placing in personal worship corners. Ace struggled not to roll her eyes at what had once been her own devout faith. Now she didn’t believe in much of anything. Even though she knew the gods were real she still chose not to put her faith in them. Never would she offer them another day of worship.
The woman selling a necklace meant to bring beauty from Tamar didn’t notice Ace slipping by or how Ace knocked her dust-covered boot into the stand. One swift kick sent the cheaply made booth crumbling as the leg that held it up bent at an odd angle. Ace continued onward, not looking behind her to watch the chaos.
Ramdon smiled down at her.
Glass, metal, and stone hit the ground creating a cloud of dust. The glass shattered with a sound that pierced the market and drew attention. Multiple shouts of dismay echoed from the people around the stand as they were showered in shards of the useless trinkets. Both warlocks, though busy with customers, rushed to aid their neighboring booth. They waved their hands over broken things, making them whole again.
A crowd gathered around them watching them with excitement. A free show, that's what she'd given the people. And no one was even going to thank her for it.
With both men occupied Ace easily slipped behind their stand, hidden by the rows and rows of thick books. She was shaded under the large awning that protected the grimoires from the sun. Boxes with extras were stacked where customers couldn’t see. They were smart enough not to have left the money they earned back here, which was only a disservice to Ace who liked to swipe the coins at any opportunity. And to steal from the warlocks in service to the queens, that made her especially happy.
Heart pounding in her chest, Ace felt the high of her wrongdoings building inside her. An addictive thrill that made her want to do stuff like this again and again. Licking her lips, she sought out the tote shoved to the farthest corner of the booth while her ears listened carefully to the crowd’s oohs and ahhs. Their attention focused on the magic they hadn’t been born with.
Precious seconds ticked by, working against the speed of magic was never easy but Ace had done it before. Gritting her teeth she rifled through the tote, not knowing exactly what she was looking for. She didn’t need to know because Ramdon would guide her. He always spoke when she got close to something she really shouldn't be messing with.
The covers of the books ranged from sleek and smooth, rough and jagged, to soft and fluffy. Her hands had barely begun to sort through her options, eyes scanning the fanciful scroll of the titles before Ramdon spoke.
Not there.He encouraged.Hidden.
Hidden? Where?Ace stifled the growl that wanted to bubble over her lips. Staying low, she took a step back looking over what little space she had.
So many books. Too many. This was the mother-fucking-load of grimoire stands.
There.The dark god suggested as her eyes skimmed over a notebook. A small journal nearly hidden under a stack of unorganized papers.
She took a shaky breath, her hand brushing over the book as she shoved away the papers. The wind caught the edges and blew a few loose pieces away, leaving the journal uncovered and in her grip. Her thumb traced the simple leather binding and the fraying bit of rope that kept it tied closed. No title. No looping cursive to suggest what may be underneath the cover. A mystery, Ace liked that.
The air was crisp with the tang of magic, nearly sweet but slightly bitter. Ace sent a fleeting glance over the stand, both warlocks still in her sight several feet away. She took a large step back, knowing she could melt into the shadows of the long building behind them and take the stairs to the roof. She'd planned the perfect getaway days ago.
She twisted—
Fingers curled around her wrist.
