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“You don’t?” Lady Darolyn asked. Her brows brushed against her hairline. Apparently, that was not the answer she had been expecting either.
“The Shadow has been making friends with smugglers and merchants. I am kept up to date on his activities by the king.” His gaze flicked back to Lady Darolyn’s face. I rolled my eyes. Another lie. “If he was the one to steal thewinvra, I would’ve expected it to end up in the black markets by now. But it hasn’t. I have several spies who monitor it for me.”
I made a note to check with the Arsenal about that. They had networks that would know if sparewinvrawas being bartered anywhere in the kingdom or the other realms. If Curringham’s surveillance was true, that made the theft even more strange.
“If not the Shadow, then who?” Lady Darolyn asked. Her wide eyes and breathy voice seemed genuine for once.
“There’s only one group who would take thewinvrafor reasons other than to sell it.” Curringham tilted his head in the direction of the Burning Mountains. They were too far to see from the manor, but even foreigners knew what lay in the western lands of Elverath.
Lady Darolyn stared blankly west. Sudden recognition flooded over her features and her mouth hung open. “The Dark Fae,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Curringham nodded, crossing his arms. He tucked his hand under his bicep pushing the muscle forward. “There are Dark Fae who still dare to disrespect the treaty, disregard the king’s rule entirely. Sometimes they slip through the mountains in search ofwinvrato steal. Usually, they take it directly from the orchards, but their rebellious nature is growing.”
“But how can you defend yourselves against them?” Lady Darolyn pressed. “They say some can kill just by looking at you and others can open up your mind and make you do unspeakable things...” She trailed off, too horrified to continue.
Lord Curringham puffed out his chest and adjusted his sleeves. “The Dark Fae are not as big of a threat as people believe. At least, not for powerful men like me or the king. Their powers had already begun to fade by the end of the Blood Wars and surely have all but faded now. I doubt one could make me do anything I didn’t want to do, let alone kill me.”
I leaned against the wall of the shed and folded my arms. If Curringham was aligning himself with the Dark Fae, would he speak so openly of them in front of a stranger? I took a step closer to the edge of the shed, eyes squinting in Curringham’s direction.
“What about the shapeshifters or the stormcasters? Their magic laid entire armies to the ground,” Lady Darolyn said, her arm stretching toward the sky. It shook slightly. I knew she was picturing a bolt of lightning cracking through the clouds and blasting the table where they sat. My lips twitched to the side. She wasn’t wrong. The king had almost lost the first of the Blood Wars because of the powers of the Dark Fae.
Curringham let out a laugh. “No one has seen such magic in centuries. Even when the Fae were at the height of their powers, stormcasters and shapeshifters were rare. I doubt many still live, let alone find time to traipse into the kingdom forwinvra.” I didn’t disagree with the lord. Fae magic hadn’t been spotted by the Shades in over two hundred years.
“Rumor has it that all Fae magic faded away when their last female died. Now, they are nothing more than Elves—barely touched by magic at all,” Curringham said. He toyed with the chain of his pendant. The pendant held a key, and he never took it off.
“But the Elves were skilled warriors,” she said, her hand sliding across the table to rub his arm. “You wouldn’t consider them a threat?” Her silk slipper pressed against his shoe.
Curringham threw back his head and laughed. Lady Darolyn’s eyes shifted quickly from his hands to his face, her brows creased.
Curringham stood up and waved his arm across the terrace. “Look at this. Everything you see in front of you. This house. The food. Thewinvra. All of it once belonged to the Elves, but not now.” Lady Darolyn scanned the horizon slowly, her mouth round and open.
“Minstrels sing of the Mortals conquering these lands. King Aemon building the first true throne and kingdom. Traitors say we stole it. The Elves thought we murdered it. I think it’s infinitely simpler than that. Wewon. The Elves lost. If any still live, they’re hiding in the Faeland on the brink of extinction while the kingdom of Elverath thrives.” He pulled on the lapel of his jacket. “Do I think the Elves are a threat? The Fae? Absolutely not. I think they’re losers, and to think of them as anything else is bad business,” Curringham finished, sitting back in his chair.
I needed to inform the Arsenal immediately. This mission was no longer one for the Blade.
ISENT A LETTER TOthe Arsenal as soon as I returned to the inn. I would spend another fortnight in Cereliath while Mistress Hildegard sent a pair of Shades to replace me. As per the king’s orders Curringham would still need to be watched, but it seemed unlikely that he had even met a Dark Fae, let alone brokered an alliance with one.
It made for easy work. I still woke before the lord, hoisting myself onto his roof with an extra wineskin. I spent my days on the clay tiles of the roof shaded by the large tower in the middle of the manor. I stared up at it, taking large gulps of wine until I could hear the swish of liquid in my stomach. At the top of the tower was a giant sunstone, held by nothing it seemed. How the Fae had placed it there was beyond any Mortal’s imagination. The answer was always the same.
Magic.
But what kind of magic? I had too much time to ponder the question spying on the lord. The days passed slowly, even with my wine. I was certain that Mistress Hildegard had been misinformed and the Dark Fae were not involved with Curringham at all. I would need to find the source of that information. They had cost me a month of my time. The king would not care that Curringham’s loyalty had been assured. He would see it as another failure—perhaps the one that convinced him to wrap a noose around my neck and leave my body hanging along the walls of Koratha.
Wine quieted my worries.
Three nights later, I watched from my perch as Curringham extended his arm out for Lady Darolyn, helping her into a carriage. They were off to watch the traveling show perform in the market circle. I took a final gulp from my wineskin and stood up to follow them.
That was until I saw someone I didn’t recognize arrive at the house. He had light brown skin, but the rest of his features were concealed under a navy traveling cloak. He moved quickly through the shadows, up the drive, and around the manor to a side entrance.
He was tall. Taller than me and most men. Without seeing his ears, I couldn’t be certain, but there was something in the sureness of his steps that made me think he wasn’t Mortal.
But was he a Halfling, or something else?
I scurried along the roof, too soft to make a sound and too quick to pull anyone’s notice. He had slipped between the manor and the stables. I climbed down to the first tier of the manor, concealing myself in the crevice between the roof and the wall. No one would notice him leaning against the wooden pillar—he blended in with the dark shadows the lanterns cast, but I could see the outline of his torso and the tip of his boot. They were leather, slightly worn, but clean. There was a pattern embossed in the material, but I was too far to see anything more than that.
A young servant came out of the manor. He was dressed in a red tunic, well-tailored with a bronze sheath pinned to his chest. A symbol of a lord’s assistant. I recognized him as Curringham’s, always following him from room to room with papers. He delivered his sandwich at precisely noon every day. In a month of surveilling Lord Curringham, I had never heard him use his assistant’s name.
But why would Curringham’s assistant be meeting a stranger so late at night? And right after his lord had left. Perhaps he was acting as Curringham’s messenger and alibi. The assistant took a step closer to the stables, leaning on the post his accomplice hid behind.
