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I stole through the inner sanctum and slipped past the gates, my weapons concealed beneath my leather jacket. Not one person dared look my way.
I was death. And people with a decent head on their shoulders tended to avoid me.
I snuck through the servants’ back entrance to a townhome in the richest part of the city. Only nobles and upper-class men and women lived in the eastern part of Sciona, their doors unlocked as if on a dare. No one robbed Cirian’s chosen—except for me.
Too bad I would be taking a lot more than coin tonight.
Shutting off my mind, I grasped my dagger and went to work.
Chapter Seven
Kiara
I’m writing to you as if you might ever read this letter. What you did for me makes me want to hate you. Your actions resulted in my best friend being taken from me, and now I’m left alone in this backward town. It’s ironic, as even as I write this pointless letter, I cannot help but miss you and wish I could pull you into one of the tight hugs you despise so much.
Unmailed letter from Liam Frey to his sister,
Kiara Frey, year 50 of the curse
The hall where we dined on wild boar and seared salmon contained long wooden tables and narrow benches. The walls were built of stone, not glass like the upper portion of the palace, the dark slabs glittering in the light of several sunfires captured in sconces. I shivered, taking in the somber surroundings, noting they lacked the one constant I’d grown accustomed to over the years.
Asidia was home to a superstitious lot, and I supposed they had a right to be.
People in my village collected tiny marble statues of the gods, and most constructed altars devoted to Raina. Intricate tapestries and fine candles and countless detailed illustrations honored the immortals, and there wasn’t one home devoid of such signs of faith—whether feigned or genuine.
Aside from the statues in the garden, I’d seen no other depictions of the gods in the Knights’ sanctum, and while I wasn’t particularly religious, I found I missed their familiar steadying presence.
Practically inhaling my meal, much to Patrick’s obvious amusement, I leaned back, a hand resting contentedly on my belly. Weeks had passed since it had been anywhere near full. Perhaps I should’ve felt guilty for indulging when so many went without, but I was too content to feel shame.
“I can’t,” Patrick sighed, motioning to the food. “I’m entirely certain the boar is still alive.”
I laughed as he wrinkled his nose. “You need to eat. Besides, it’s not too bad and who knows when we’ll next get such fine fare.” I picked at his plate and shoved a piece in my mouth, beaming wickedly. He couldn’t truly be serious—food was just as precious as coin lately.
Patrick pushed his plate toward me. “Then you can have mine. You deserve it after dealing with Adam.”
I was prepared to protest, as we both needed our strength, but Patrick began finishing off his loaf of bread, seemingly satisfied. When he shot me a pointed look and raised a lone brow, I gave in and devoured the rest of his meal.
A part of me suspected he was simply being kind, and that part rebelled against accepting his offer. I wasn’t accustomed to such generosity, but in the end, my stomach won out over my pride.
Before long, a gong sounded, our short-lived dinnertime at an abrupt end.
There was a mass of flailing bodies as everyone scrambled to the rooms, a few scuffles breaking out in the rush. All I could think about was finally wiping the grime off my body.
That, and the lack of an audience.
“Night, Ki,” Patrick said, lying down on his cot. He pulled the thin blanket up to his chin, giving a little shiver from the chill.
“Goodnight,” I replied, smirking as he struggled to find a comfortable spot. In a way, he reminded me of Liam, and for a moment, I pictured my brother resting in Patrick’s place.
I was glad I was chosen. There was no more doubt.
After everyone settled for the evening, I wandered down the corridor to the bathing chamber. As promised, not a soul was in sight.
Thank the cruel, wicked gods.
My fingers worked at the tiny buttons of my shirt, eyes fluttering shut as crisp air kissed my bare skin. My trousers dropped to the stones, stiff from dried mud and other things I wished not to dwell too long on.
The final things to go were the gloves.
