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I don’t usually mind the cold. Thanks to my magic, I tend to run warm, but it feels different tonight. Ominous. And a little wet.
I’m probably overthinking things and looking too deeply into nothing. This journey has been exhausting, and I’ve yet to get to the worst part. I push my unease aside—this time, that’s all it is, nerves and natural worry—and tug at the bindings of my corset until my breasts are squished and pillowing out the top. It matches my petticoat, which is made from sheer black gossamer and shows the outline of my legs beneath its layers.
The Red Keep has a dress code for its working girls. As I am, I’m probably overdressed, but I’m not comfortable with see-through corsets or barely-there skirts. I don’t like when men look at me because looking leads to touching and touching leads to sex, and that willneverhappen. I’ve experienced one penis in my life.
One horribly crooked, purple-veined monster that was disgusting enough to make me never want a thing like that near me again.
Ezra's dark gaze sweeps over my body approvingly and lingers on myexposed legs longer than any of my other assets. His hungry eyes make my skin crawl. I have to resist the urge to hug myself because that look, the one that says I'm a prize no other can have, reminds me of Graves.
Darkness spreads around the edges of my vision. My heart races as a panic attack looms in the not-so-far-off distance. I close my eyes, not wanting the past to play any more of a part in tonight than it already has, but the memories dance on the edge of my emotions. They wrestle with my confidence and drag me back to the dark corners of my mind.
Far too quickly, the forest fades away, and I am thrust back into a memory. I know it isn't real, but the way my body aches and my skin burns…it feels like I’m back in Emberfell.
Smoke singes my lungs with each inhale. I can feel it swirling in my chest, heating my blood and cooking my insides while the encroaching fire licks at my skin. I don't have the energy to move. Graves beat it out of me, leaving me black and blue and bloody on the thatched floor. He left me to die beside my brother in a burning-down hut after taking everything and everyone from me.
I hate him.
Emberfell didn’t deserve the king's wrath. They did nothing wrong. Their only crime was being sick enough to seek out a healer.
But the Crown didn’t care why we were there. All they saw was a Cerise, and because of my red hair, everyone had to die.
"What's the plan?" Ezra's deep voice cuts through the memory like a warm knife through ice. I blink away the past and find myself in the dead of night again.
Safe.
Away from the ruins.
It takes me a few breaths to shake off the unease. Three years have passed since the day the soldiers rode through Emberfell, but the pain that lingers is as real as if it happened yesterday.
Ezra reaches up and brushes a wayward tear from my cheek. He worries so much more than he should. Constantly fretting when I try to help around Divale, my uncle's manor, always insisting on joining me on my missions despite knowing what would happen.
He never judges what I do. In fact, I think he might respect me a little more with every man I kill, but we both know tonight will be different.Revenge gave me purpose and helped me heal. Without it, I know he worries I’ll fall to pieces, and Graves is the last name on my list.
"We don't have to do this tonight, Khiara."
I wipe my eyes, not wanting any more of my demons to leak out. I don't expect to be hit so hard with emotion, but trauma has a way of sneaking up. It attacks, crippling its target in the most inopportune moments, and there is no fighting it. The only choice is to push forward and forge a path of survival. "There is only tonight."
“Khi.” Ezra reaches for my arm, using my familial nickname, touching with a gentleness reserved for the weak. I hate the way my name rolls off his tongue. I hate the pity I see in his eyes when he looks at me. I shift out of the embrace, and Ezra's face steels.
I’ve hurt him again, for the hundredth time since we met, because he wants something I can't offer. A quiet life with a family and everything that comes with it. He knows where I stand on the matter and still chooses to stay at my side. I admire Ezra’s loyalty but am not blind to how much our friendship hurts him.
"Walk me through the plan," he insists. "One more time."
"Find Graves. Get him alone. Make the kill." Preferably with a silent stab to the heart. Or something that won't make a lot of noise or attract attention. If I had my way, Graves’s death would be a drawn-out, painful one, but this mission doesn't lend itself to that kind of torture.
"Then get out," Ezra adds. "If you don't have a clear escape, don't take the risk. Taking his life isn't worth losing yours. We can always try again."
That's where Ezra is wrong. I have thought about ridding the world of Graves more often than I should. The intimate features of his face have faded in my mind, but I’ll never forget what his hands felt like on my body. I can never silence the sound ofmyscreams in my ears. I live to make that man feel even a sliver of my pain.
If I die in the process, then so be it.
Not like it will be the first time.
"Don't get caught. Got it," I reiterate to soothe Ezra's worries, but he can read me like a book. He knows letting me out tonight is a risk. Because of the Culling tomorrow, every guard will be on high alert this weekend.
Ezra shoves his hand into the pocket of his cloak. Unlike the soldiers’ jackets that are dyed monthly to retain their crisp appearance, Ezra's issun-faded and worn. He doesn't have the money to spare on new clothes simply because they look less than perfect. Everything we have at Divale is earned by blood, sweat, and tears, and even that doesn't seem to be enough for the stars anymore.
Ezra pulls a delicate mask from his pocket. The gilded leaves that form an intricate pattern are rumpled from their harsh housing but beautiful despite their imperfections.
