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Even the king was starting to notice the chatter. Lords and servants whispered about the Shadow all over the palace. Courtesans and maids debated who hid beneath that hood. Guards argued about the Shadow’s motives. Everyone wondered whether the man draped in shadow was even Mortal at all. Maybe the Shadow was more treacherous than he seemed. Maybe he was a long-lost Elf seeking revenge on the king for killing off his kind. Maybe the Dark Fae in the west had finally decided to use their magic against the Crown. Or maybe he was a Halfling, forced to keep his face a secret or suffer the consequences of defying the decrees.
The truth was that no one knew the answer. Not even the army of spies the king kept well-trained and well-funded. As I was the head of that army, the king would notice I had once again returned empty-handed. My shoulders twitched. I preferred working outside of his view as much as possible. Having the eyes of the Crown on your head was dangerous. I should know as the person the Crown sends to retrieve those heads.
The coach drove through the city, reaching the innermost wall that protected the palace. It was a magnificent creation of white stone, built as if the rocks themselves had grown into three towers, carving out the chambers for those who inhabited it.
Fae. They had been the makers of this house millennia before. It had been the homestead of the Light Fae, a magical race that had long ago gone extinct. Each of the three towers was topped by stained-glass chambers with ceilings that were more than three stories high. The glass was wrapped by vines that grew thick in the light of the two suns. When the suns shone through the tops of the towers, hues of gold, violet, and silver would cascade onto the walls of the outer rims.
Half my wine bottle was gone by the time we reached the palace gates. I sighed when I heard their slow creaking as the guards pushed the iron doors forward. I wouldn’t have time to finish my drink before I was expected in the throne room. Probably for the best—my head already throbbed from the night before.
A guard opened the door to the carriage, and I pulled my hood forward, shielding my face. He knew better than to offer his hand to assist my dismount. I may be the king’s Blade, but I was certainly no lady. In Elverath, I wasn’t even considered a woman. Those who bothered to address my kind called me the same as they did all women with Elvish blood—female.
Halflings had dirty blood, part-Mortal and part-animal in the eyes of the king. Calling us by our sexes was just another way he solidified the distinction between our kinds. Our enslavement was for the good of all; Halflings weren’t even human. The guard stepped back from the door. No Mortal man would deign to touch a Halfling. Plus touching me was dangerous when I had been trained in over thirty ways to torture a man with my bare hands until he screamed for death.
He stepped back again as if sensing my thoughts. I smirked before jumping out of the carriage and landing on the dirt. The lacings of my leather boots were covered in mud from days spent on horseback and my clothes were just as disheveled. I thought about retiring to my chambers to change, but one of the royal spies was waiting at the inner gate, obviously there to collect me.
She was a Shade, one of the elite forces of Halfling females the king trained to do his bidding. Who she was, I wasn’t sure and didn’t much care. Anyone could be hidden beneath that hood. She could’ve been someone I trained with at the Order or a recent graduate. Either way, I knew she wasn’t a friend. I didn’t have any. And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t pick a Shade.
“The king is awaiting your presence,” a cool voice said from beneath the hood when I slowed. I’d had more of the wine than I thought. My body still felt like it was being jostled around in the carriage.
“Are we not walking there now?” I bit back. I wasn’t eager to meet with the king. He would inevitably rattle on about declining trade while my knee burned against the marble floor. I should have had more wine.
The Shade didn’t respond but shifted her shoulders. I wondered if she was rolling her eyes at me. Again, I couldn’t tell. The top of her hood was cut longer and contained a flexible rod to keep a shadow cast over her features. It was the same hood I wore and was specifically designed to keep our identities a secret. Same for the black tunic and trousers we both wore. When I trained at the Order, I was told the uniform was to protect us, make individual Shades more difficult to track. I thought it was a reminder that our identities didn’t matter, only our service to the king. We were expendable, just like any other Halfling. Maybe even more so.
The only thing that distinguished the two of us was my added height and my cloak. Shades were only permitted a hood; a cloak had to beearned.
She drummed her fingers along her crossed arms. Her leg shook.
I sighed and I picked up my pace. Better to get the audience over with so I could retire for the night.
Two guards stood outside the throne room. They looked miniature next to the grand doors that reached for the pitched roof three stories above our heads. Though the white grain had yellowed over the centuries, the branches and leaves carved into the wood held large panes of painted glass. Another relic left by the Light Fae that had once roamed these halls.
“There she is!” My mouth dried at the king’s deep voice booming off the pillars that lined the throne room. I took a stiff step onto the dais. I could feel his gaze boring into my hood, but I kept my eyes focused on the ornate foot of his gilded throne. I kneeled in front of him and did not rise. My stomach fluttered, though not from my wine.
“Pray tell, what news of Mortal’s Landing?” he said. There was a cheery edge to his voice that made my pulse race. The king swiped a goblet from the tray beside him and raised it toward me. The rich scent of Elven wine filled the air. My head throbbed and the dryness scratched at my throat. Whatever I had drank the night before was horse piss compared to the king’s collection of fine wines.
“Your assumption was correct, Your Majesty,” I said. I was still kneeling on the cool floor, but I raised my head to look at him and pulled back my hood. His blond hair glinted in the light from the towering windows. The sunlight emphasized the two patches of silver above his ears. They were the only sign of aging that the king let show.
“The fish merchant the Shades discovered was indeed trading with criminals, one of which was the Shadow,” I continued, shifting my weight onto my toes instead of my knee. “He was quite accommodating in the end. Gave me the names of everyone he was involved with. I will be sure to pass them on to the Arsenal for the Shades to take care of.”
“From what I hear, the Arsenal hasn’t heard from you in months.” The king raised a thick brow.
I bowed my head. The gulp of air I swallowed felt thick.
“You selected the very best of the Shades to prevail over the rest. I trust the other mistresses have managed well in my absence.” I dipped my head, hoping that would be enough to appease the king. As the Blade I was the head of the Arsenal, and by extension, the Shades. But I found the day-to-day of it taxing. Why would I want to manage the hundreds of spies that were stationed across the continent? Or the training grounds across the channel, forging initiates into weapons for the Crown? The other members of the Arsenal were much better at it. Just like I was better at drinking and assassinations. It was more than a fair trade.
The king scoffed and peered down at me from the rim of his cup. Thick lashes framed green eyes that refused to blink. My breath stopped. I searched his face for a sign of what was about to come. A slight smirk or pursed lips. Fingers clenched against the goblet. But there were none. The king had mastered hiding beneath a mask long before I became his Blade.
“Rise,” the king said through a gulp of his drink. I let out my breath and my shoulders dropped toward the floor. I stood in one swift motion, stepping back off the dais without a word. No one was allowed to stand taller than the king.
“Did you manage to get his name then? This Shadow figure I keep hearing about?” He placed his goblet back on the tray. His cheeks were flushed from the wine, but his face had lost that cheery glow from when I entered. My heart beat harder against my chest. The king was known for his sudden shifts in mood. And King Aemon the Corrupted was at his most dangerous when irritated.
“No, Your Majesty, I did not.” My eyes wandered toward the gray lines etched into the tiles. It wasn’t often that I returned to court with bad news. I had not been promoted to Blade by working in half measures.
“You mean you let him get away again?” It was not the king who asked this. The voice belonged to Crown Prince Damien, who sauntered in from the back doors leading to the royal chambers. His smirk was cocked to one side as he leaned against the wall. I glanced at him, noticing that he had cut his hair so that the blond curls he usually tied back had transformed to soft waves cut above the ear. A new haircut on the prince would send the young ladies at court into a frenzy for weeks. Damien knowingly raked a hand through it and raised his brow at me.
I bit my lips to keep from scowling.
“I never saw him, Your Highness,” I replied, struggling to keep my voice even.
