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“Failure always precedes success,” she said with a faint lift of her brow. It was what Hildegard had always said during our training.
“Sometimes failure precedes death,” I spat. I couldn’t look at her. It ripped at my chest until I couldn’t breathe. Every heartbeat shook against my rib cage so violently I thought one might snap and pierce it altogether.
That would be less painful.
“Then die,” she whispered.
My eyes snapped back to where she sat. Her face was calm, but amber blood soaked her tunic. It pooled down the front of her, but she did not move her hands to stop it. I watched in horror, unable to move, as her neck went limp.
Honey-colored eyes stared up at me.
“Don’t leave a crown to claim.” Her last words rattled from her chest before her eyes went cold.
My lungs set themselves on fire as I screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
I was sick of dreaming of her. Not dreams, nightmares. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. She called out to me over and over again until I gave up on sleep entirely. I left a pool of sweat in my bed and dressed for some fresh air. The first sun was only beginning to peer over the hillside, the golden leaves of Sil’abar gleamed above the city.
I watched the leaves flutter silently, high above my head. The streets were empty. No one stirred in the early hours after a party. I sat on a garden bench surrounded by lush blooms of every color. Their petals just starting to widen with the heat of the sun, each laced with dew.
I couldn’t enjoy the beauty of the garden. All I could hear were those words ringing in my head.
You promised.
As if I hadn’t carried that broken promise with me everywhere I went. She didn’t need to plague my dreams reminding me of how I failed. How I failed her. My fingers traced the name along my forearm through my linen sleeve. Again, and again.
“Long night?” I looked up to see a Halfling standing in front of me. She was dressed in one of those sheer gowns I had seen at the tailors. The gold ink along her face had started to fade.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, shifting on the bench. In my rush for fresh air, I had left my cloak and hood behind. I felt exposed with her dark eyes lingering on my face.
“I hope you were having fun at least,” she said, perching herself on the bench beside me. She pulled her long black waves behind her neck.
I shook my head and slid away from her.
“Have you found what you’re looking for?” she asked, crossing her legs and soaking in the sunlight.
“What?” I stood up. My hand gripped the hilt of my blade. At least I’d remembered to arm myself. My brows pinched together. It was brave of her to approach if she knew I was the Blade.
Her lips cracked into a sly smile. “No need to pull that out,” she said with a lazy wave of her hand. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the sun. “Aralinth is a small city; there are no strangers here. Anyone can see that you’re new. And you’re a Halfling, which means that you crossed the mountains searching for something. Most of us came as refugees in search of safety. I would know.” She pulled back the long drape of her sleeve. Her wrist was burned with the image of a crown.
“You were a royal courtesan,” I said. The king’s courtesans were Halflings forced to fill the pleasure houses. Technically, the houses were against the decrees, but they turned a profit for the king. And supplied him with more Halflings to own.
I let go of my dagger. She’d seen more violence than most. I would not add to it. “How did you escape?”
She pulled down her sleeve. “I was sent with a group to Cereliath for the Harvest. The lord who bought me fell asleep before he received his... services. I took his money and his cloak and walked out the front door.” She laughed, twirling a strand of hair in her fingers. “I don’t think they expected any of us to leave. All those years I spent dreaming of running away, plotting an escape, and when it finally happened, no one noticed.”
“They never sent anyone after you?” I asked, sitting back down beside her.
Her dark eyes cut to mine. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned toward me. “I don’t think they looked. The prince was there that night.”
She didn’t need to say anything more. My fingers scratched along the edge of the bench as the scars on my back itched. Halflings often disappeared when Prince Damien was around.
“You didn’t stay in Cereliath?” I asked as the shutters of a nearby shop swung open.
She shrugged. “I was not made to work the fields and with my brand I was too easily discovered.” Her eyes shifted to me for the briefest of seconds. Heat flooded my cheeks. I had caught many Halfling runaways in my time as Blade. Most never got the chance to return to their posts.
