2
From the wardrobe in our sleeping chamber, I pulled pants, a tunic, and boots, shoving the former into the shoes to hide them from view. I’d need them to sneak out once I unleashed my magic.
Tucking them under my arm, I snuck from the bedroom and down the hall to the prayer room at the rear of the house. The door creaked when I opened it, and I winced, hoping that no one had heard it. On the opposite end, an altar waited, with a wicked knife resting beside a small bowl, and the lone window cast a judgmental rectangle of light on the floor. I tucked my stolen clothes behind the door, then closed it and strode toward the kitchen.
On the long dining table, a basket of fruit beckoned me to take one of the shiny green apples. They were my favorite, especially if they were as tart as the bright one I plucked from it promised to be. The door on the opposite end of the space led to the gardens, and I hurried toward it, curiosity driving my movements. A sense of aliveness buzzed through me for the first time in a long time. From the size of the visitors’ traveling party to my husband’s anxious departure, something big was happening.
The fresh summer air caressed my face as I exited the house, and the sun beat overhead, warming what little skin showed in my dress. Hoofbeats no longer pounded the road, though harsh voices drifted from the center square, faint enough that I was unable to make out a single word.
As I traipsed through the rows of roses, I surveyed the garden for any sign of the groundskeeper. I spotted him tending to the fruit trees that stood between the house and wild bushes.
“Olrus!”
I cried out, offering him a wave. He lowered his shears and offered me a kind, sympathetic smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling too. Olrus was old, even for a Demon, and he’d served the three previous Kormánzó before my husband claimed the title from his father. He was also no stranger to Vagach’s abuse, though he was powerless to help me. We’d bonded years ago over our love of plants, and he tried his best to revive the rare roses that I’d let fall to ruin.
“Assyria,”
he greeted me, cardinal eyes drifting to my cheekbone before landing on my grin. “Praying at home today?”
“Thank the Fates,”
I sighed, and he released a low chuckle. I glanced around us to ensure we were alone, then dropped my voice. “Do you know who those riders were?”
Olrus shook his head, then wiped the sweat on his brow with the back of his sleeve. “I was already here when I heard the hoofbeats. Figured if it was important, Kormánzó Vagach would fetch me.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
I asked in a rush.
Olrus closed his eyes for a moment as if he was bracing himself for what he knew I would ask. “You want to sneak out.”
“Only for a little while. If Vagach comes home early, can you distract him? Please?”
I wasn’t above begging, not when a momentary reprieve from this place was within reach and the potential to slip into the crowd unnoticed was so high.
He glanced at the sun, and I followed his attention. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to know,”
I pleaded, turning the apple over between my palms.
“One hour. But if Vagach returns in the next ten minutes, I can’t promise that I can keep him occupied that long. You know how risky this is.”
The old Demon was right, but what was Vagach going to do if he caught me sneaking out? Kill me? That was honestly a welcome outcome.
“Thank you,”
I breathed, flattening the apple and my hands over my heart.
“Best hurry now,”
he chided, opening his shears, though the pinch of his eyebrows spoke to how much he truly worried for me.
“One hour,”
I repeated, then strode back toward the house. Wisteria climbed over one side of the exterior, competing with ivy for space on the stone. It gave the home a peaceful, almost serene atmosphere. The irony nearly made me laugh.
I bit into the tart apple as I reentered, savoring the juices and letting them drip down my chin before swiping them away. The halls were quiet save for my crunching, and once the door to the prayer room creaked as I opened and shut it, I breathed a sigh of relief. Tossing the half-eaten fruit beside the offering bowl, I got to work.
Burgundy eyes meant that I had a special, unique power in addition to my ability to manipulate shadows. Anyone who knew me in Stryi believed my gift from the Giver had never manifested—that was intentional. My mother had warned me at the young age of one hundred and twenty that should anyone discover my abilities, I would be endlessly exploited and my life would no longer be my own.
Unfortunately, her prediction came to pass regardless of the truth of my magic being known.
Stripping out of my modest attire, I pulled on the pants, then shimmied the tunic over my head and tucked it in. I shoved my feet into the boots that were far too large. To anyone watching, I looked comical, drowning in male’s clothing. But it was necessary for my trip to the village center.
Closing my eyes, I tuned into the shadows swirling in the center of my chest, pulling on the threads to weave myself a new body. In my mind’s eye, I pictured a painfully average male Demon, with crimson eyes, short hair, and medium build. The clothes grew snug across my chest and shoulders, the hem of the pants lifted from the ground, and my toes pressed against the end of the boots. When the form was complete, I opened my eyes, turning my hands over and noticing the hair that adorned the backs of them and decorated my forearms. I ran one over my scalp, finding the hair cropped close instead of a single long braid down my back.
I couldn’t smother the grin that broke out across my face. Minutes ticked by too quickly, and with my short timeframe, every second counted. Creeping to the window, I cracked it open and listened for any sign that Olrus was nearby. Despite our friendship, he didn’t know what my true power was.
No one still alive did.
When silence greeted me, I stepped over the altar and onto the ledge, surveying the ground below for a place to drop. Damaging the precious flora was the last thing I wanted to do. With a small leap, I cleared the flowers and landed lightly in the grass beyond. I winced at the impact, both because my injuries were still healing and because moving in this form was so foreign.
A dozen paces away from the house, a small gap between two wild bushes waited for me, and I jogged toward it, sucking in a breath and shielding my face with my arms as I pushed through the thorns. One snagged on my sleeve, and I cursed, knowing I’d have to repair the fabric surreptitiously so that Vagach wouldn’t notice.
On the other side, an abandoned home sat, still and silent as if it too waited to see if I would be caught. The wood siding hung at odd angles, more decrepit than it had been the last time I snuck out. Its owners had died during the plague, shortly before my parents and sister succumbed to it.
Grief caved my shoulders, and memories of those final days played over and over in my mind, halting my progress forward.
Stop it, Assyria! Move!
Cursing myself, I cut through a nearby alley, hoping to remain unseen as I wound my way through the houses and toward the main square. Most homes I passed were devoid of their inhabitants, and anyone I spotted in the distance was headed in the same direction as me.
The voices grew louder as I entered a wealthier part of the village, and the shops that normally had wares spilling into the streets were closed up.
Whatever this was, it was important enough that every single resident had turned out. Excitement flitted through my veins as I quickened my pace, needing to be closer, faster, so I didn’t miss a moment. Around the final corner, a wall of people blocked my view of the center, but a male’s voice rang loud and clear over the gathered Demons.
“The time to serve your realm has come. One male from every family must join the army. Kormánzó Vagach has been kind enough to provide us with a list of surnames in the settlement and surrounding area, so we will know who complies and who does not.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd and people turned to each other, whispering furiously. So far, the only people from this part of the Demon Realm that had joined were volunteers. The war must have been going worse than we thought if they were here to conscript a soldier from every family. With everyone distracted by the news, I wedged myself into the crowd to attain a better view of the platform.
My husband stood on it, along with Priestess Anara, and they were joined by a handful of Demons wearing armor. The one speaking had thick plates of metal, even on a warm day, while his companions standing at the back of the platform wore leather, leaving their arms bare as they rested hands on the hilts of their weapons. Their elongated canines flashed as they spoke amongst themselves. One had even filed down a few more of his teeth, giving him an even more intimidating aura.
“Quiet!”
the leader shouted, and silence fell over the gathered villagers. “Once your volunteer has been selected, go to the temple for screening. If you are found unsuitable, a replacement will be requested. If no one is offered from the family by sundown, the punishment will be death to all. We depart at first light tomorrow.”
Vagach stepped forward and scanned the crowd. Only years of practice kept my face blank as his eyes swept over the section in which I stood. “Due to this…interruption, daily worship will take place in the home. Priestess Anara will remain in the temple and will pray to the Weaver with your families should you require additional comfort as you enter this path. May the Reaper’s eye pass over you. May your threads hold strong. May your gifts never fade.”
He glanced at the leader of the soldiers, who dipped his chin. They spoke a few words to each other, but I did not catch them as the volume of the gathered Demons’ conversations grew louder.
In front of me, a mother clasped her son to her chest, though with his size, it looked more like she was clasping herself to his chest. “Jarnon, I am so sorry you have to go. If your father hadn’t died last winter…”
“I know, mother,”
he replied, patting her on the head and then stroking her back. “Will you and Javia be alright without me? Maybe we can find an exception since your back is too frail to tend to the fields.”
As I listened to the young male console his mother, my attention returned to the platform, where the leather-clad males were directing a group of young ones that had already offered themselves toward the temple on the opposite side of the square. Parts of the crowd splintered as more and more pushed forward, ready to list their names for the Kral’s army.
Vagach spoke with the metal-clad leader, their heads bent together and Vagach occasionally gesturing around him. Then, they clasped arms, and Vagach dropped to one knee in front of him, resting his head on his forearm before rising again.
Vagach is going to war.
My heart soared, and I nearly laughed for the joy spreading through me. He would leave me here, he might die on the battlefield, and then I would be free of him. My body and soul would have time to heal. I could spend my days with Olrus in the garden, laughing, carefree in the sun.
So many thoughts flashed through my mind that I nearly missed the chiming of the temple’s clock. The clang broke my reverie, and I glanced at the sun overhead. Dread settled in my gut. I’d been away too long. Vagach spoke to Priestess Anara, who still held that stern expression on her face, then stepped off the platform, striding in the direction of our estate.
With the level of disarray in the streets, he would reach our home before me if I did not hurry.
Spinning on my heel, I bumped into a family, nearly knocking a mother carrying a small babe in her arms into a wall.
“Watch where you’re going!”
she shouted, and I shot her an apologetic look.
“Running won’t get you out of this war,”
her husband snapped. His words were loud enough that they carried to a huddle of soldiers leaning on a fence some dozen feet away.
Three sets of eyes snapped to me, and three sets of hands went to their weapons.
Fuck.
For a moment, I paused, debating whether to run or to explain myself. If the soldiers held me for questioning, my identity would be uncovered immediately. Vagach would return home, and I would be notably absent. He’d search for me, and when he found me and discovered my magic…well, I didn’t want to find out how he would react.
So I ran.
“Hey!”
one of the soldiers shouted as I turned down an alley, ducking under a row of clothes drying on a line between the buildings and taking a sharp left. The mud-brick walls flashed by me as I tried to orient myself to that part of Stryi, wracking my brain for where the alleys ended and where another side-street waited for me.
Pumping my arms and sucking down sharp breaths, I tried to outrun the clearly trained males. Wearing the form of another was no easy task, let alone running in a form I was not used to while having a few cracked ribs. I shoved the pain aside, the desperate need to remain free allowing me to block it out as I raced for my survival.
Too late, I spotted an obstacle in my path, and on instinct, I swept my hips to the side. But I didn’t move far enough, and my arms pinwheeled as I careened into what looked like a barrel of apples. My knee caught the edge, spinning me around. It tipped over behind me, and shiny red apples tumbled in every direction. The males pursuing me stopped short, leaping and skidding to avoid slipping on them.
I offered a quick thank you to the Weaver for keeping me upright and the soldiers at bay before sprinting away again. A corner appeared ahead, and although I wasn’t quite certain where I was anymore, I knew I needed to change course or the soldiers would catch me. I didn’t slow my pace as I rounded it, throwing one last glance over my shoulder to gauge the distance between us. Apples flew in every direction as they kicked them to the side, clearing a path forward.
I still had time.
When my head whipped to the front again, I nearly screamed as a group appeared from a side-street up ahead, so close they could have reached out and grabbed me. The need to survive sharpened my instincts, and I skidded to a stop, glancing at the soldiers, the narrow gap between the houses that lined this row, and the sharp garden fence to my immediate left.
“Stop running!”
one of them shouted when he spotted me, yanking on his companion to stop. He drew a whip from his waist and whirled in my direction.
Without hesitation, I sprinted in the direction of the fence. The crack snapped an inch from my ear, and I drew on every ounce of strength I possessed to clear the jagged points set into the mud-bricks. A crate allowed me to vault myself upward, and my hands caught on the lip of the pergola that jutted against the wall.
“Fuck!”
I grunted when something sharp sliced into my calf. Warm blood trickled down, pooling in my shoe. As if I wasn’t already injured enough.
Footsteps pounded closer, and gritting my teeth, I launched myself forward, landing among a small patch of summer squash. I cringed, a moment of guilt sweeping through me as I crushed and bloodied their food. But my life was worth more than vegetables that could so easily be bought, if I had to judge from the size and construction of this house.
Pain shot up my leg as I pushed myself to run again, though it was something between that and a rapid hobble as I clung to the smooth side of the home. The street out front was blissfully empty, and after double checking that the other soldiers hadn’t cleared the garden wall yet, I raced forward, ducking into another alley behind the next row of houses.
My chest heaved from the effort, and as one street, then another flew by, I was certain I had escaped them. Careening onto one of the main thoroughfares close to the estate, gruff males’ voices rang out to my left.
I froze, heart thundering. When another shout sounded, ice skittered down my spine. They were nearly upon my location, hidden between the long, narrow houses. Scanning the buildings across the street, I noticed one whose entry door hung crooked and slightly ajar. The garden around it was overgrown and filled with weeds—another abandoned home. I needed to get closer to the estate, for that was my only true hope of escape, and I needed to reach it before Vagach.
Giver, you offered me this gift for a reason. Show me that it wasn’t all for nothing.
As my eyes opened again, they snagged on a single white rose peeking through the overgrowth. Too stunned to think of my prayer being answered, I sprinted toward it, through the tangled plants, and to the damaged door, shoving it open just enough to slip inside. Carefully, I closed it, hoping the soldiers hadn’t heard the scrape of wood on stone.
Back against the wall, I slid to my bottom, trying to catch my breath as quietly as possible. Not only did I want to remain undiscovered, but I also needed to hear if they drew closer. Glancing around the small, two room home, I searched for a second exit. Thankfully, across the house, another door waited, leading to the back garden.
“There’s blood on the ground. This way!”
The order was clear and crisp despite the wall separating me from the road.
No, no, no, no, no.
Pressing my lips together, I swallowed the cry that wanted to escape, holding my breath and waiting to see if the soldiers would try to enter the house or search the overgrowth first.
Footsteps pounded against the stone street, the sound softening as they approached. “There’s more here,”
one of them said.
Carefully, I turned to my knees, lifting the dirty, dusty curtain a hair to the side so I could peer out the window. A group of ten males fanned out around the home, one with garnet-colored eyes watching them closely as they crushed the plants beneath their feet. With shaking hands, I dropped the fabric, then slowly crawled away from the window and toward the rear door.
If I could reach it before they did…
With grim determination, I got to my feet, then peeked outside. The area around the back was blissfully empty, and judging by the thick, thorny bushes sticking out from either side of the house, it wouldn’t be full anytime soon. I listened for the telltale sounds of cursing and snapping branches, just to be safe.
One I was certain I was in the clear, I shoved open the door and slipped into the garden. The overgrowth hid me until I hopped the fence into an alley. Taking a quick glance in both directions, I raced down it and toward the dilapidated wood building that marked my entry and exit point from the estate.
A bird squawked to my right, making me jump and curse, hand flying to cover my heart. Three crows perched on the edge of a roof, peering down at me with a judgmental air. I narrowed my eyes at them, and the one in the middle cocked its head at me. Sweat poured from my temples and down my spine, though a chill swept through me under the crow’s perusal.
Shaking my head, I continued on my way, leaving thoughts of the birds and the soldiers behind. As I rounded the last corner, I paused to survey the area.
All clear.
Then I sprinted across the road and past the abandoned house. I didn’t bother to wipe my face before covering it and pushing through the wild, thorny bushes.
Clearing them, I darted toward the house, the ivy tickling me as I hugged the side of it until I rested at the corner. With all the slowness I could muster, I peeked around it, not finding Olrus in the vicinity. My secret was still safe, and Vagach hadn’t returned home yet. Picking my way through the plants that ringed the base of the house, I made my way to the window and leaped for the sill of it, assisted by the height of the form I was wearing.
Pulling myself up and into the room without a sound was a different challenge entirely.
Why didn’t I make this form a male with shoulders built from farm work?
Cursing, I managed to flatten my stomach against the windowsill and pulled myself the rest of the way into the room. With a thud, I landed on the floor beside the woven prayer rug, and then I flopped to my back, sucking down much needed air.
Come on, Assyria, keep moving.
After my chase through the streets of Stryi, I didn’t have time to waste if I were to beat Vagach home. My body begged for relief as I pushed upright, swaying slightly as I stood. Gray dots danced in my vision, and I braced a hand on the wall as I waited for the world to stop spinning. At least the cut on my leg was already beginning to heal. Apparently, I could bleed in this form, but that was something to examine at a later date.
When I finally had my bearings, I simultaneously released my magic and stripped out of the male’s clothes. Wiping my face with a clean part of the tunic, I tried to make myself more presentable before tossing both the tunic and pants into a dark corner. Ignoring the protest in my ribs and shoulders, I yanked the dress over my head, smoothing the skirt when I was finished. The veil clouded my vision a moment later.
It was like I’d been in this room saying my prayers and making an offering to the Fates this whole time. To ensure Vagach would see my piety when he checked later, I grasped the knife that rested beside the small bowl and lifted it to my thumb. Without the usual pause to coerce myself into doing it, I sliced my skin, letting blood drain from my body into the bowl, then traced a line of blood down my face for good measure.
Satisfied that I’d spent enough time in here, I rolled up the tunic and pants and then stuffed them in between a stack of woven blankets, knowing I’d have to mend and clean them sooner rather than later. The boots were hidden behind them.
The knife also needed to be washed, but that was less suspicious than Vagach’s clothes. Trekking back to the kitchen, I intended to return to the copse of trees and thank Orlus for his help and tell him what I had learned. I hoped that he wouldn’t have to go to war; he was far too old and far too important to me. My thoughts were consumed with worry for my friend, so much so that I wasn’t paying attention when I turned the corner and entered the kitchen.
Because when I looked up, Vagach stood there, and Olrus was slumped at his feet.