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“It is unsettling waking up without my wife’s body against mine.” Kase leaned his shoulder against the doorpost, eyes black. “But then, I recalled who my wife is and figured I’d find her here.”
I threw one of the plums at his chest. “Did you think I’d ever stop stealing food in the middle of the night?”
He smiled, drawing back the thin layer of shadows, and took a few pieces from my hand. “No. I hope nothing about you changes, Malin. But I do expect to be included in your schemes. We stole food together all the time. We will continue to do so.”
I kissed his cheek. “You were sleeping like a corpse for the first time . . . ever. I couldn’t wake you. If I’d known how ingrained raiding food cupboards was in your bones, I would never dream of letting you get much needed rest. How selfish of me.”
“As long as we understand each other.” He pulled me close; his lips hovered over mine. “If you are scheming, I am there. Even if it is an unnecessary raid on Niklas’s food stores since he has invited us to use as we please.”
Kase kissed me. I was a weak woman, for my body arched against his, sinking into his touch, his kiss, his hands. Once I thought myself resilient. Sharp and jagged. I’d since discovered all the harsh surface edges only existed because I’d been searching for the missing piece of my heart.
Kase backed us out of the door. “Come back to bed, wife,” he murmured. “I have plans for you.”
CHAPTERSIX
THE NIGHTRENDER
War moved slowly.In my dreams, I’d hoped by day three after the Northern folk arrived, we would have a victory under our belts and the Black Palace would be burned to the ground.
Not so.
Two weeks after the North had joined us, we were still fighting in the shadows. We did not share the advantage of large numbers the same as the Black Palace. Our attacks were not on grand battlefields, they were through schemes, marks, and overtaking small camps.
Our plan was to tear down bits and pieces of Ivar’s empire by small, slow, and simple acts. There were camps and weapon trades hidden throughout the slums of Skítkast. And, in our minds, the Black Palace needed to be rid of them. Taking down the trade camps would weaken the strength Ivar wielded, and we needed them as incapacitated as possible.
The ragged council house where the crooked leaders of the region met had been one.
Another, a tavern that reeked of vomit had been a concealed weapon trade for the palace. Niklas took particular offense to that one since the tunnels shooting out from the cellar were used by Falkyn smugglers.
Nik showed his disappointment to the ale man who ran the tavern by sticking poisoned nettles beneath his fingernails until his blood was tainted and his lungs caved in.
The latest was the Wild Hunt arena where Malin had faced Boswell. The arena became ours after Halvar had launched a surprise attack against a small unit of skyds and a few strange looking fae.
Rumors that the Southern Kingdom had joined the ranks of the Black Palace settled under my skin. There was no official confirmation that the Court of Hearts and its high queen had allied with Ivar, but with the increasing number of fae, it was only a matter of time.
Valen had ended that fight at the arena swiftly. It helped when the king could crumble the very earth beneath their feet. To watch the small, miserly unit of new guards scream in horror when the earth swallowed them up was a sight I wouldn’t try to forget. In the end, two skyds had pleaded for their lives and were tossed in a dank holding cell at the Falkyn Nest.
It only took breaking a few fingers before they spilled their secrets. They’d told us Ivar had placed aroyalunit of guards at the high academy in Furen. It was led by Lord Patrik, a wizened old brute who drank until his skin yellowed.
Royal units. Niall acted as if he were already a bleeding king. His ascension was the grandest chatter amongst the underbelly and common folk alike. The gold-embossed parchments lined trees, the iron of street torches, and every wall of every damn building across the regions served as an announcement of the coronation celebration.
A revel was owed to the folk of the East after the dreadful thieves destroyed their masque not long ago. They would receive their new king at the new and improved Masque av Aska. The announcement read:Come one, come all. Welcome to the dark ball.
They could parade their damn lies about Niall being the future king all they wanted. The new masquerade gave us a timeline for when we would need to rid them of that crown they flaunted so heartily.
Little by little, we would crack their defenses, we’d fight a war in the shadows, then we’d end them.
More than anything, the Black Palace didn’t want the folk of the East to believe they were battling the forces of a woman claiming to be the fated queen. Naturally, to conceal unease, they hid their units well at the academy, the most secure fortress yet.
Sprawled on our bellies, Luca and I tracked the yards with numerous longhouses, the wood and wattle dormitories, and the slender stone cottages where intimate lessons of higher study were taught.
Luca once attended the high academy and had provided a detailed map of the area. The front courtyard was where we’d strike. Nestled in their comfortable beds were several high lords, including Lord Patrik. If anyone in Furen ruled like Ivar, it was Patrik. A cruel man with a selfish need for power.
It was no surprise Lord Patrik had been one of the first high nobles to join ranks with Ivar and house a grand army. One overseen by the prized Alver—Ivar’s Benevolent.
“He’s there.” Luca muttered. His hand gripped my shoulder as a reassurance, to keep me from lunging forward ready to draw blood. Luca Grym knew me enough to know violence would cling to my thoughts whenever Sabain came near.
My teeth ground together as Sabain stalked across the cobbled roads between buildings. He was backed by four Rifters, four Hypnotiks, two Elixists with fur pouches dangling from their belts, then five skydguard. The Benevolent strode with confidence: chest puffed, head lifted, and my bleeding blacksteel sword on his waist. All the while surrounded by those he would hide behind to save his own neck.
