Chapter Five #2
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that. Even those who couldn’t perceive Anima might feel a sudden change in temperature, or an uncomfortable energy they couldn’t identify. And there was a lot of energy here.
Nik stepped closer. “Tell me what you see.”
“Three Anima, circling above the house.”
“Why?” Nik asked.
“I think we’ll find out inside.” I considered calling out to them but didn’t want to alert whoever might be inside.
Nik and Galen shifted their gazes to the open doorway, which gaped like an empty mouth.
“You can stay here,” I told them. “I can go in alone.”
“No. We go in together.”
“It’s not necessary. I can—”
But he cut me off with a shake of his head. “Let me be clear: You’re here because I asked it of you. My people don’t take risks that I’m not willing to take.”
There was something heavy in his eyes, like he was literally shouldering my burden.
I hadn’t asked that of him and didn’t expect it.
We were the Lady’s people, me and Wren, and even she didn’t offer her protection.
And I wondered what it might be like to have that shelter, that protection, from someone who wasn’t paying me for work.
For now, the rules were his to make. “Your coin, your choice.”
Nik looked at Galen. “Stay here with the horses. We may need a quick getaway,” he added before Galen could object, and followed me to the threshold.
If the Anima were bothered that we moved closer, they didn’t show it. They continued in their slow circle when we reached the door and stepped inside, the increasing pain around my heart throbbing a warning.
The room was empty and smelled of dust and long-untouched things. There was an empty hearth at one end, a small window at the other. The wooden floor was scattered with leaves and dirt and debris, and instead of gods, glossy black spiders waited in corner cobwebs, surveying all that happened below.
A low doorway led to the left. I walked toward it and whatever waited beyond, and saw the shape on the ground, sparkling with dirty green Aether. I rushed toward the body and crouched down, but we were too late. His eyes were open and staring.
He had light brown skin, dark hair, and pinprick scars from sparks and hot metal. “His name is Tommen,” I said. “He’s a blacksmith from the district. He’s a good man.”
“Who it seems came to a lonely end,” Nik said. He touched Tommen’s forehead, then gently closed his empty eyes. “He hasn’t been dead long.”
That was the worst kind of tardiness: when a few moments might have made the difference.
“And he’s covered in Aether,” I said, wincing at a particularly firm pinch in my chest.
“There are no obvious wounds,” Nik said, looking him over. “Could he have been killed with Aether?”
“I don’t know.” There were small, singed holes in his clothes, and the skin beneath was burned, but he didn’t bear the jagged traces we’d seen on Innis’s arm.
“Maybe the practitioner tried another possession but it didn’t work.
Or maybe these marks are just something Aether can do.
Something a practitioner can make it do. ”
“Innis didn’t have them.”
“Not that I saw, no.” My ignorance felt like an unscalable wall and left me frustrated. “I want to help, but this is all unfamiliar.” I needed Luna, but she didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t have a way to reach her when she wasn’t already near.
“You aren’t alone there.” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Is he why the Anima are here?”
“Probably. Anima who remain in our world can be drawn to Aether if there’s enough of it.”
“Does it frighten you?” he asked. “Seeing them, I mean?”
I shook my head. “Anima can cause trouble, but they don’t usually have the power to hurt anyone physically.” I looked back at Tommen and sighed. “The ones who are devastated—that’s hardest.”
“Because they’re the most human.”
I looked up at him and found his gaze on Tommen now, sympathy furrowing his brow.
“Yeah,” I said. “What was he doing this far from the stronghold?”
“We’ll ask his family. For now, let’s check the next room.” He rose and offered me a hand. This time, I took it, climbed to my feet…and felt something slide beneath my boot.
I looked down, found a bit of linen near Tommen’s foot. I moved to it and picked up a drawstring bag with a familiar weight.
“What is it?” Nik asked.
I emptied the gleaming coins into my palm. “Maybe the reason he was out here.”
“Maybe he came to get paid.”
Before I could respond, there was a loud noise—the cracking of wood—behind the house.
Wren was definitely right to worry, because I didn’t stop to consider the risk before running after Nik to find out who—or what—had caused it.
The sunlight was a bright contrast to the dark room, and I had to squint to see a man in a threadbare tunic and trousers, a worn scarf around his neck, disappearing into the underbrush. A now-broken door was hanging off its hinge, and he left no Aetheric trail.
“Same clothes as the assassins in the market,” I said. And it wasn’t hard to imagine he’d been involved in Tommen’s death.
Nik swore, ran back to the front of the house. I followed him. “There’s a dead man inside,” he told Galen. “And an assassin in the trees. Stay here with the horses and keep an eye out.”
“You aren’t going alone,” Galen said, his voice hard. “I’ll go with you, and she can stay with the horses.”
“I’ll go with him,” I said.
Galen shook his head. “You aren’t trained for this.”
“And you can’t see the Aetheric,” I said. “If we stand here and argue, we’ll lose him.”
Branches cracked in the woods.
“She’s right,” Nik said, then glanced at me. “Try to keep up.” Without waiting for a reply, he darted into the trees.
“That won’t be a problem,” I said, and took off after him. The trail of crushed leaves and snapped branches rose along the hillside, and my breath quickened as the path grew steeper. At least the pain in my chest eased as we moved farther from the house.
We found him in the middle of a well-trodden path, scarf unfurled and trees arcing overhead.
He was about our age, with a wide, pale face and high forehead.
He held a two-bladed dagger of etched metal.
It was a Vhranian windblade, the favorite weapon of its nomadic communities. Wren also had a thing for them.
I couldn’t see or hear anyone else, and I couldn’t see any Aether. But I was a thief, and I knew what it felt like to be watched. Someone was out there. Someone was watching.
“I don’t recognize him,” I whispered. “And there’s someone else in the woods.”
Nik nodded and stepped in front of me, shielding me from the assassin. “Who are you?”
The man only sneered.
“There’s no need for fighting,” Nik said. “You’re caught. There’s an army behind me, and we’ll run you down. Tell me who you’re helping, and I’ll send you on your way. Evade or lie, and you’ll die in the dirt where you stand.”
“Can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt him.” The assassin turned his body sideways and raised the windblade.
I wasn’t a fighter like Wren. I knew running was safest, but I couldn’t leave Nik alone with the practitioner lurking somewhere nearby.
“Or you could be an idiot about it,” Nik muttered, and pulled his short sword. “Who killed the man in the house?”
“I did.”
“You didn’t. He was killed with Aether. Where’s the Aetheric practitioner?”
The man’s smile was thin. “Hasn’t been a practitioner in Carethia in decades.”
Nik rolled the sword in his hand. “Then I guess we’re doing this.” He moved toward the man first, with a quick downward slash that had the assassin’s eyes widening.
Nik was no less impressive today than he had been last night.
He moved like the tiger on the prince’s banners, struck with powerful force, dodged like a thief.
The assassin wasn’t as well trained. I wasn’t an expert, but he looked clumsy, chopping with his blade like he was in a hurry to make a run for it, back to the practitioner he’d apparently decided to serve.
Nik heard it before I did, his gaze snapping to mine.
“Arrow!” he called out, then pulled us both to the ground, his body heavy atop mine as the arrow whistled over our heads.
Birds screamed nearby, startled from their nests.
Something moved in the forest beyond, and then the world was silent again.
Nik waited, his chest heaving from the fight, his mouth inches above mine, his gaze trained on the arrow’s origin point, listening for another volley. He flicked his gaze to me. “All right?” he whispered.
We’d fallen into a thick layer of dead brush and leaves; I’d be picking them out of my hair for a while, but they’d cushioned our fall, so I nodded. I couldn’t think of any words to say.
There was movement behind us. Nik was up in an instant, his sword bared again.
The assassin hadn’t managed to dodge. He was sprawled across the path, the arrow lodged in his chest, blood seeping from the wound. He groaned and coughed, and blood bubbled from his mouth.
My vision swam, and I looked away. “There’s Aether on the arrow,” I said, ignoring the twinge of pain, which I knew was nothing compared to his.
Nik swore. “Hold on, man.” The sounds were nearly as bad as the sight, and I had to concentrate very hard on the bark of the nearest tree. “Might as well tell me his name, since your master just tried to kill you to keep you from talking.”
“You…not me.”
“No need to kill a soldier, and you took the arrow either way. You want revenge? Tell me his name.”
He said something I didn’t understand.
“His name,” Nick said again, this time more forcefully.
“He…mask.”
He said the word on an exhale of breath, and I knew from the sound that it was his last.
By the time I looked back, his eyes had gone cloudy.
“Death is such a fucking waste,” Nik muttered. He climbed to his feet, his lip curled with disgust as he cast his gaze across the trees. Then he walked a few feet away and put his hands on his hips.
“You absolute fucking coward!” he shouted to whoever might hear him. “If you want a fight, come on! Right here, right fucking now.”
Nik stared into the woods like he could draw the practitioner forward solely by the strength of his will. His power and confidence were visceral, his frustration obvious. He was a soldier, a man who brought death. But he also understood the futility of fighting.
Despite his dominance, there was no answer, not even the rustling of leaves left over from winter. No satisfaction for his fury or outlet for his guilt.
He walked back, resheathed his sword, and pushed his hair behind his ears.
There was something in that simple motion that made me want to step forward and comfort him.
Tell him I understood his anger; being powerless was a bond servant’s specialty.
But I didn’t dare. It wasn’t my place, and he wasn’t my friend.
Nik knelt beside the assassin. He looked the man over for a moment. “I need to pull out the arrow.”
I grabbed the nearest tree when the world began to spin.
There was a pause. “It’s the blood?”
I nodded. “I can look at death, maybe because I see what comes after. But blood…” Even saying the word made my skin clammy. “Blood is harder.”
“I wasn’t sure anything scared you,” he said. “Good to know you’re human like the rest of us. You have good eyes, so keep watch while I do this.”
I nodded and stared into the woods, like the answers we wanted might appear in a banner unfurled from a massive oak. “What’s your weakness?”
“I’m told I’m not serious enough and don’t respect authority. My left sword arm is weaker than my right.” He paused. “And I don’t eat green food.”
“Green food?”
“Green food is for horses, not humans. All right,” he said. “I’ve got it.”
When I turned back, the arrow was in his hand, and he’d pulled the man’s scarf over the wound to shield me from it. A thoughtful thing to do. Then again, he was paying me to be here; I wasn’t much good to him if I was unconscious.
“Is the arrow Vhranian?” I asked.
He looked at me, brows lifted.
“I recognized the windblade. Wren admires them.”
“They’re good blades. The sword is Vhranian,” he confirmed, “but the arrow isn’t. It’s good quality, but the fletchings aren’t quite right.”
Those were the feathers at the end. “So someone wanted it to look Vhranian.”
He nodded.
“I don’t think he’d use a bow. The practitioner, I mean.”
Nik looked at me, head tilted. “Why?”
“He didn’t try to kill the prince. He was somewhere else, hiding from view and manipulating the Anima that possessed Innis. Innis and the others did the actual fighting.”
Nik nodded. “Good thought.”
He put the arrow aside and gave the man’s clothing a cursory search. Finding nothing, he rose. “Let’s get back. I’ll have soldiers search the woods when they come back for him.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He looked at me. “About going back? I know Galen snipes, but he’s just protective.”
“Galen snipes because he’s an arsehole. But that’s not what I meant. That wasn’t a very good search. He’s not going to stuff a clue into his pocket where someone can find it as easy as that.” A kingdom’s soldiers should at least be skilled in the basics of rummaging.
I crouched beside the man, ignoring the heavy scent of blood. I began feeling my way around the seams and the hems of the man’s tunic—two of my favorite hiding spots.
It wasn’t in the bottom hem but the left sleeve. I pried it out, found a semicircle of hardened wax. Part of a circle and a symbol—a few small lines—had been pressed into it.
“Did you find something?”
“Just like you might have if you’d been careful enough.” And now I sounded like my father. I rose and offered it to Nik. “Looks like part of a wax seal. Does it look familiar to you?”
He took it, flipped it over, then back again. “I don’t recognize the symbol. But I’ll ask around.” He put it into his jacket.
“Did the assassins who died last night have anything on them?”
He shook his head. “Only cheap weapons.”
I gave him a flat smile. “Did you look carefully?”
“The imperial physician searched them. If there was anything to be found, he’d have found it. Probably. I’ll check. Let’s get back. I don’t want to be out here any longer than necessary.” Then he frowned, pulled a folded cloth from his uniform—he must have dozens of them—and reached toward my face.
I took a step backward. “What are you doing?”
“There’s blood on your cheek,” he said quietly. He dropped his hand and opened his palm to offer me the linen. And looked a little disappointed, or maybe insulted, that I’d moved away. “Death is a messy business.”
“It’s messier for the dead,” I said, and scrubbed at my face, embarrassed I needed cleaning up. “Gone?”
“Gone.” But he shook his head when I offered the linen back to him. “Keep it. Just in case you need it again.”
I tucked it into my sleeve. Maybe I could get a few coins for a royal-adjacent handkerchief in the market.