Chapter 13
The eastern postern gate was exactly where Lira had said it would be, a narrow door set into the castle’s outer wall, almost invisible unless you knew to look for it. The guard stationed there was young, bored, and appeared to be losing a battle with consciousness.
I waited in the shadows until his head drooped forward, then slipped past him like smoke.
The night air hit me cold and sharp, tasting of stone and starlight and freedom I hadn’t realised I’d been craving. I pulled my cloak tighter and oriented myself toward the distant glow of the city.
Two miles. I could do two miles.
I’d done so much worse.
The path down from the castle was winding, carved into the hillside in switchbacks that probably looked picturesque in daylight. Now they just looked treacherous, all loose stone and uncertain footing in the dark. But the moon was nearly full, and my eyes adjusted quickly.
Another gift from the Veil, maybe. Another change I hadn’t asked for.
I made it halfway down before I heard the rush of wings overhead.
I froze, pressing myself against the rocky outcropping, heart hammering. Patrol. Had to be. Lincatheron’s ‘increased aerial surveillance’ making itself known at the worst possible time.
But the wings passed overhead without slowing, and I caught a glimpse of someone smaller than Lincatheron, their flight path steady and routine. Just a regular patrol. Not looking for me specifically.
Not yet, anyway.
I waited until the sound faded completely before continuing, moving faster now. Every minute I wasted was a minute closer to someone checking on me and finding me gone.
The city rose up gradually—first scattered houses, then clusters of buildings, then proper streets paved with stones that gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
Even at this hour, there were people. Not many, but enough.
Figures moving through the darkness with purpose, slipping in and out of buildings that glowed with warm light.
Taverns. Had to be. Because some things were universal across realms, people would always need somewhere to drink and forget.
I picked one at random. Small, tucked into a corner where two streets met, with a weathered sign hanging above the door that depicted what was either a dragon or someone’s drunken attempt at a horse.
Light spilled from the windows, and through them I could see bodies moving, hear the low rumble of conversation and laughter.
Normal. It looked so beautifully, impossibly normal.
I pushed open the door.
The warmth hit me first, then the smell, ale and smoke and bodies packed together in comfortable proximity. The conversations didn’t stop when I entered, which was a good sign. No one looked up, no one seemed to care about another hooded figure slipping inside.
Just another traveller. Nothing special.
Exactly what I needed.
I made my way to the bar, claiming a stool near the end where I could watch the room. The bartender, an older woman with silver streaking through her dark hair and the kind of face that had seen everything twice, raised an eyebrow.
“What’re you having?”
“Whatever’s cheap and strong.”
She snorted. “Honest. I like that.” A glass appeared, filled with ale that smelled like it could strip paint. “Two coppers.”
I fumbled in the cloak’s pocket, found the small pouch of coins I’d stuffed in there. I dropped the coins on the bar.
The bartender made swept them off the counter. “You lost?”
“Something like that.” I took a sip, managed not to cough. “Just passing through. Heard this was a good city. Safe.”
“Safe as anywhere, I suppose.” She was wiping down glasses, but her attention was on me now. Curious but not aggressive. “Safer than most, thanks to Lord Varyth. He keeps the monsters out.”
“Lord Varyth.” I said the name carefully, testing it. “What’s he like?”
“Fair. Stern. Doesn’t tolerate nonsense.” She set down one glass, picked up another.
“Keeps us safe and doesn’t tax us into starvation. That’s more than most lords can claim.”
I nodded, filing that away. “I heard something happened today. At the castle. An attack?”
The bartender’s expression shuttered. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Rumours. You know how it is. People talk.”
“People talk too much.” But she leaned forward slightly, voice dropping. “There was an incident. Some fools tried to breach the wards. Didn’t end well for them.”
“Who were they? The attackers?”
“No one knows. Or no one’s saying, which amounts to the same thing.” She studied me with eyes that were far too aware. “Why the interest?”
I shrugged, aiming for casual. “Just trying to figure out if I picked a bad time to visit. Don’t want to walk into trouble.”
“Trouble’s already walked out, from what I hear. Anyone foolish enough to breach those walls isn’t living to talk about it.”
I finished my drink and slipped out. Another tavern couldn’t be far.
I’d made it two steps before the voice came.
“You’re a long way from the castle.”
I spun, hand going instinctively to my hip where a weapon should have been and wasn’t.
Cindrissian emerged from the shadows like he’d been born there, all lean grace and that insufferable smirk that made me want to punch him on principle.
“How long have you been following me?” I demanded, heart hammering from the surprise I refused to show.
“Since you slipped out of the eastern postern gate.” He tilted his head, studying me like I was a particularly interesting puzzle.
“You’re good, I’ll give you that. Most people wouldn’t have made it past the first courtyard without triggering something.
But you move like someone who’s spent a lifetime avoiding notice. ”
“Creepy. That’s creepy, you know that?”
“I prefer thorough.”
I stared at him, trying to decide if murder was worth the complications it would cause. Probably. Maybe. “Are you going to drag me back?”
“No.” The smirk widened into something almost genuine. “Where would be the fun in that?”
I blinked. “You’re not—”
“Going to report you to Varyth? Alert the guards? Sound the alarm?” He examined his nails with studied disinterest. “Why would I? You’re not doing anything I wouldn’t do. Besides, watching you navigate your new reality is far more entertaining than another tedious evening at the castle.”
“You weren’t at dinner.”
“No.” Something flickered across his expression, there and gone too quickly to identify. “Darian can be... ill-tempered after stressful weeks. I find it best not to aggravate him with my presence.”
Right. Because he and Eilrys used to be together.
Cindrissian must have read the thought on my face because he nodded slowly. “Ah. Someone filled you in on the sordid history. How much did they tell you?”
“Enough to know it’s complicated.”
“Everything here is complicated.” He leaned against the tavern wall, all casual grace that didn’t quite hide the coiled readiness underneath. “That’s what happens when you trap immortal beings with long memories and longer grudges in close proximity. We’re all just waiting to see who bleeds first.”
I studied him, trying to reconcile the playful mask with the darkness underneath. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you don’t trust me.” He said it like a compliment. “Which means you’re paying attention. That’s rare.”
“Forgive me if I’m not throwing you a parade for basic observation skills.”
His laugh was soft, barely audible over the ambient noise from the tavern.
“You know what I like about you, Isara? You don’t perform.
Most people, especially new arrivals, spend so much energy trying to appear harmless or grateful or whatever they think will keep them safe.
But you?” He gestured at me, at the defiant set of my shoulders.
“You’re just you. Prickly and suspicious and ready to burn the world down if it gets too close to your children. ”
“Is there a point to this character analysis, or are you just lonely?”
“The point is that your instinct not to trust me is correct.” His expression shifted, something genuine bleeding through the perpetual amusement. “In fact, I’d recommend extending that policy to everyone in that castle. Including Varyth. Especially Varyth.”
I studied him, trying to parse truth from manipulation. “You work for him.”
“I work with him. There’s a difference.” Cindrissian pushed off the wall, moving closer.
Not threatening, exactly, but deliberate.
“I’m loyal to Varyth because it serves my interests to be loyal.
The moment that calculation changes, so will my allegiance.
That’s how it works here. Immortality makes mercenaries of us all. ”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is.” He said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that I almost believed him. “Which is why I developed my charming personality. If I’m going to spend eternity playing politics, I might as well entertain myself.”
“By following people who sneak out of castles?”
“Among other things.” The smirk returned. “I’ve survived longer than most of the people who came here believing in things like loyalty and honour and the inherent goodness of powerful men.”
“You’re telling me to trust no one.”
“I’m telling you, I haven’t trusted anyone since I was thirteen. And it’s kept me alive.”
The specificity caught me. “Why thirteen?”
For a moment, I didn’t think he’d answer. Old pain flickered across his face, but it was swiftly buried. Then his mouth curved into something too harsh to be a smile.
“Because that’s when I made the mistake of trusting the wrong person. It ended with my father shipping me off to another court.”
Horror crawled up my spine. “Your father—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The idea of a parent abandoning their child, sending them away like unwanted cargo. “Why would anyone do that? Why would a father send his son away?”
“At the time.” Cindrissian’s eyes fixed on mine, intense and unwavering. “He sent his daughter away.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”