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I smirked even though they couldn’t see it.
“Tell him the king’s Blade requests a rematch.”
DAYS PASSED AND NOone appeared at the House of Harvest. I spent twenty hours a day perched on the roof of the manor, hiding from the suns and the people below. No conspirator with an Elvish blade. No Shadow. No one out of the ordinary at all.
I took a swig of my drink. The second sun was disappearing beneath the horizon, a cool breeze fluttered against the heat of my skin. I needed to stop the Shadow. One more attack against the Crown and I knew the king would dispose of me.
I didn’t care about my head. Part of me longed for the relief of a noose, but this was about more than me. I only killed those I had to. Those the king named. Anyone I could spare, I did. I funneled money through the refuges to keep Halflings hidden and fed. I knew Gerarda would not do the same if she was promoted to Blade. She would slay whoever she needed to complete her missions. To serve her king.
I was cursed with the blood I spilled. But I spilled less than others would.
Less than the king thought I did. It was a measly penance in the face of the lives I did take, the lives I ruined. But it was something. I wouldn’t let the Shadow destroy the little change I had managed to make.
Not until I fulfill my promise, I thought. I brought the wineskin to my lips and drank from it until that thought washed away. What good was wine if it didn’t keep me from thinking of my failures?
I heard Curringham’s servant leave the lord in his bed. The oil lamp that painted soft orange lines along his window went out. A few minutes later, I heard the familiar rise and fall of the lord’s snores.
I stood up too quickly. My hands reached out to keep me from falling as the roof spun underneath my feet. My wineskins sat empty beside me. I needed to get to bed quickly before a pounding ache started to split my skull.
A flash of movement caught my eye. A servant dashed out the side entrance and continued down the stone carriage way. That alone wasn’t odd, but the same servant had just entered the manor three minutes prior and now his clothes were disheveled and his stature six inches taller.
The impostor moved quickly, peering back over his shoulder as if he expected someone to be following him. If he had been smart enough to lookup, he might have seen me.
I tracked him as I jumped onto Curringham’s balcony and then to the one below it. I launched myself onto the stone wall, my arms winding to keep my balance. The impostor had to show upafterI’d finished my wine.
He looked back twice as I followed him along the wall. The trees kept me hidden, but there was something off about his gait. His chest was not pounding, and his steps were too sure for how clumsily his arms flailed at his sides. I couldn’t make out any features on his face, but I was certain this man did not work in the manor.
This was a ruse. And an obvious one at that.
I reached the end of the wall and paused. My eyes followed the man as he crossed the laneway and started toward the inner city.
This was a trap.
And whoever was waiting for me at the end of it likely didn’t have a belly full of wine. I sloshed with every step I took, off-balance. I was slow. Too slow for a fight.
I gritted my teeth as the man disappeared into the shadowed laneway of the business sector. I wanted—no, needed—to know who was setting the bait. If it was the Shadow, I couldn’t risk losing the opportunity.
It was him or me. The rest didn’t matter.
I jumped off the wall and ran in the direction the impostor had gone. My legs were sluggish. My fingers ached as I hoisted myself on top of the row of businesses. It didn’t take long to find him again; his pace had slowed. His gaze shifted in every direction like he was trying to find me lurking among the crowd. Bumping into carts and passersby. He was making himself easy to track.
The wine stirred in my belly. I lifted a fist to my mouth, swallowing the urge to vomit. My foot slipped off the roof. I fell on my back, sliding toward the edge. My arms reached for something to grab onto. I grasped a small chimney and pulled myself back onto the roof. I crawled along the tiles and peered over the pitch.
No one was looking up or whispering. I could just make out the silhouette of the impostor, head turned back over his shoulder. The fall sobered me a little. My body was hot but focused. I did not slip again as I leaped from roof to roof following the mystery man below.
Eventually, we crossed the entire city and came upon an abandoned temple. I watched the man pull chains from the door—no lock held them together—and open it just wide enough to slip inside. There was a window above the door. Its glass was broken, leaving only a camber hole in the wall. I pulled two pointed blades from my belt and secured my hood. I ran full speed along the church and leaped. I pushed off the doorframe for extra height and anchored myself to the wall with a blade. I lifted my arm and secured the second, using it to lift myself up into the windowsill.
I peered inside. The temple was one large room. Moonlight from the tall windows sliced through clouds of dust. The man had gone. Disappeared out of one of the busted windows without a trace. A light breeze swirled against a purple banner that hung on the pulpit. It was faded and ripped, but I could still see the sigil of a long arrow stitched in gold.
I leaned into the wall on my perch. I knew this wasn’t a coincidence. The man had been so obvious traipsing through town, only to disappear the moment we were out of sight and ear shot. Few people walked by this part of the city and now that the suns were set, the dock workers had already gone home. It was the perfect time for an attack.
Someone was coming out to play.
I pulled the twin blades from my back and jumped. I landed on the pulpit with a soft thud.
“I heard you wanted a rematch,” a deep voice spoke from the corner of the temple. My back tensed. I recognized the voice from our fight in Volcar.
The Shadow was cloaked in black just as I was. His tall frame leaned casually against a pillar. His arms were crossed, not even holding the sword that was sheathed behind his head. I couldn’t see his face beneath that hood, but somehow, I knew he was smiling.
