Chapter 2
Two
Stavros
The thief walks down the shadowy palace corridor with a meekness she’s never shown in my presence before.
On our way down the tower, she picked up the cloak she must have discarded, and now she has it wrapped tight over her dress. Her head dips low beneath the hood that conceals her pale red-blond hair. Her shoulders have hunched as if she’s drawing in on herself.
She’s trying to make herself look weak. Fragile.
Because she’s just proven herself to be the exact opposite to an extent I never could have imagined.
Not just a street-hardened petty criminal. Not even just the charitable vigilante the outer-warders dubbed the Hand of Kosmel.
Gods smite me, I’ve had one of the riven under my nose for weeks and never suspected.
As I walk a step behind where I can keep a careful eye on her, my fingers clench around the hilt of my sword.
I can’t draw it, because the blasted royal bastard insisted on accompanying us to see King Konram in case his familial influence could be of use with his half-uncle, and he wouldn’t understand why I’d like to keep a blade pointed Ivy’s way.
I don’t know if I should tell him. I don’t know if I should already be planning how to run her through and explain why afterward.
The uncertainty gnaws at my gut.
I was coming to respect her. To appreciate her presence. To want to hear her snarky comebacks when I heckled her, to see the hesitant way she’d brighten when I offered a friendlier remark.
Great God help me, just remembering the moment when I handed her my old sword with its royal seal sets an unwelcome warmth blooming in my chest. I grit my teeth and smother the sensation.
How much of her mix of mettle and vulnerability was an act?
Just how wretched an imbecile have I been?
My wooden prosthetic feels like a dead weight on my arm. I didn’t have time to swap it for a metal one shaped for combat, which would at least give me another advantage.
Bizarrely, I wish I hadn’t sent Casimir and Aleksi back to the college. It was a split-second decision based on wanting to keep our group out of the public eye, as secret as this particular route through the palace is.
It isn’t as if the scholar or the courtesan would be much help in a fight against a riven sorcerer. Fuck, I wouldn’t be much use in that fight.
The only way you take down one of the riven is by surprise. Might to might, you’ll always lose.
At least if they were here, the decision wouldn’t rest entirely on me. Whether to lunge and bash her head against the plastered wall beside us or keep escorting her on, bringing one of the most dangerous beings in existence to a chat with the king.
I don’t think even riven magic could harm him through the precautions he takes for an unguarded conversation, but who can say what a monster might be capable of?
Ivy is the only one who knows what happened when she confronted that prick Wendos. What he said about his scourge sorcerer colleagues and their plans.
Kill this riven woman, and we lose our best chance of stopping a whole horde of even viler villains.
But what lingers in my mind the most is the image of Kosmel’s sigil glowing on her chest. The look that came over her face when she noticed it too, startled and then almost horrified.
She didn’t ask for the godlen’s blessing. He imposed it on her.
I’m not arrogant enough to argue with a divine being.
Aleksi is right. We need to figure out what this all means. Which requires that she stay alive for at least a little longer.
The back of her head has turned into a blur, as everything does if I hold my gaze in the same place for more than a second or two. As if I’m looking through a window that’s hazed with condensation.
I flick my attention to the hall ahead and then back to this unpredictable woman for another brief moment of clarity.
Is Julita still in her head? I can’t picture how our former ally would respond to the revelations we’ve just heard.
Whatever Julita thought of me when we worked together, I’d like to believe she’d understand if I have to end the scrap of a life she’s managed to cling on to via her reluctant host.
Even with the thief’s meek stance, there’s still a confidence to the way she moves. As if she always knows exactly where she’s putting her feet—and how she’d need to pivot at an unexpected interruption.
I have to yank my attention away before my appreciation of her subtle assurance brings my gaze skimming down her slim body. It’s traveled that path before more times than I’d like to admit, with a flicker of heat I can’t allow now.
When we reach the door to the king’s most private meeting room, I push a little ahead of Ivy and Benedikt. I’m one of the few who knows how to handle the carving on the wooden surface to disengage the lock.
With a flash of flaring magical sconces, we step into a small, windowless sitting room that nonetheless demonstrates the palace’s splendor. With a flick of my eyes, I take in the velvet cushions on the chairs and the gold gilding around the fireplace.
What matters most is the huge, gold-framed mirror that stands against the wall next to the fireplace, taller and broader than even me. I motion for Ivy and Benedikt to join me before it.
I don’t know what gift allowed the creation of this mirror or how long it’s been in the Melchiorek family. It’s a fantastic trick, allowing King Konram to speak with trusted advisors without even a guard overhearing while remaining in the security of his personal chambers.
There must be something in the room that alerts him to our entry. Within a matter of seconds, our reflection on the mirror shudders and ripples away, replaced by the king’s regal form.
In the first instant before my sight clouds, I take in the sternness of his deep-set eyes and the tight set of his thin lips. It’s late in the day for handling official business, but a king’s job is never truly done.
“Ster. Stavros and companions,” Konram says with a slight nod of acknowledgment. Unlike his soldiers, he never makes the error of calling me by my lost military title. “It’s been a tumultuous day, but I gather we’re closer to answers than the last time we spoke?”
I draw my posture even straighter than it already was. Through months of practice, I hold my gaze steady on him as if my vision isn’t hazed. I can see well enough to make out the basic shapes of his features if not the details.
I might not be serving under him as a general any longer—I might have fucked up not just my career but so many other things that mattered more as well—but he still values my input. I have to show I’m worthy of his generous trust.
“It appears that the scourge sorcerers I told you about were responsible for a great deal of the destruction today,” I say, going over my mental inventory of that damage. Part of the college’s Quadring building, a row of shops a few blocks away, a nobleman’s home on another corner.
I gather myself before continuing with the part that makes me balk. “I mentioned that my assistant, Ivy, was helping us investigate. She confronted one of the sorcerers directly in the All-Giver’s tower of the Temple of the Crown.”
Konram’s head turns so he can study Ivy. “You saw the supposed scourge sorcery first-hand?”
Ivy keeps her cloak close around her, but she lifts her chin with the fire I’m used to from her. “I saw enough to know it isn’t ‘supposed.’ I found Wendos of Nikodi at the top of the tower, conducting a ritual. He had three accomplices with him—people whose power he was taking to bolster his own.”
The king frowns. “And when you say taking, you mean…?”
Ivy’s voice tightens. “It seems these scourge sorcerers are attempting to avoid the gods’ retribution by using a slightly different strategy than the ones centuries ago.
Rather than having people die in sacrifice, they’re manipulating their accomplices into sacrificing every body part they can spare while remaining alive.
Presumably so they have as large a gift as possible to lend the conspirators ongoing power. ”
My stomach roils at her words. Every part they could spare? The image her words stir in my mind is sickening.
I didn’t see any accomplices with Wendos in the tower, but I’m not going to question her story while my king is in the middle of doing so himself.
“That does complicate matters,” Konram says. “Do you know what the purpose of tonight’s ritual was?”
Ivy dips her head. “Wendos said he was trying to combine his and his accomplices’ powers with those of two other sorcerers who were working elsewhere in the city.
They’d already been exerting some control over the daimon—I’m sure they encouraged the creatures to attack everyone at the ball the other night.
This time they wanted a larger scale disaster, wreaking havoc throughout the inner wards and maybe the rest of the city too. ”
Konram hums to himself. “So we’re dealing with at least two other members of this conspiracy then.”
Ivy hesitates and then ventures, “From the way he was talking, I think it’s quite a few more. Unfortunately, Wendos didn’t mention any names… except Ster. Torstem. And I believe one of the sacrificial accomplices was an orphan Ster. Torstem groomed for the role. Possibly they all were.”
She got confirmation about Torstem. A strange lurching sensation runs through me, half exhilarated, half queasy.
We’re getting closer to the root of the conspiracy. But I never wanted to believe one of my fellow professors was involved.
With a slight tick of my eyes, I make out the furrowing of the king’s brow before everything blurs again. “The law professor? I’ve looked into his past conduct—there’s been nothing amiss.”
Benedikt steps forward with a quick bob of a bow and a flash of a smile. “If I may, Your Highness, from what I’ve seen of Ivy over the past few weeks, she may be sharper than the rest of us combined. She wouldn’t say a thing like that if she wasn’t certain.”
Konram barely spares the royal bastard a glance. “My certainty is what’s more important.”