Chapter 4
The Hunters’ Guild was located directly above the Nox Custodia—close enough that they shared the same elevator and wayportal—so Viri didn’t need to leave the lift.
Meera joined her in it, the tension so thick that Viri loosed a relieved breath when the doors finally opened to the Guild’s familiar dark-green-marbled corridor.
Unlike the Nox, hunters didn’t have individual workstations, since they were almost always out searching for reapers and only visited the Guild for training, meetings, and mentor check-ins.
Whenever they captured a reaper, they delivered them to the Nox to finalize the arrest and handle the paperwork.
It worked perfectly for Viri, who hated being chained to a desk.
She needed to be up and moving, not trapped in place—in every aspect of her life.
Right now, she felt very trapped as she followed Meera down the everbeacon-lit corridor, walking past tunnels that led to the sparring chambers, the theater-sized conference room, and a cluster of offices used for casual meetings.
Meera, of course, had her own permanent office as head of the Guild, carved into the side of the mountain and boasting a sealed window wall that overlooked the eastern cliffs of Elverdine Isle and the roaring sea hundreds of feet below.
As Viri stepped into Meera’s office, her gaze jumped straight to the window, a shiver traveling down her spine as she took in the deadly blackmist hovering over the ocean.
But her focus shifted at the sound of a clearing throat, and she spun to find Darik standing beside Meera’s mahogany desk at the back of the room, his frown as fierce as the one Meera still wore.
Both leaders were tall and strong and undeniably intimidating, but that was where their similarities ended.
Somewhere in her mid-thirties, Meera had dark skin, wavy brown hair, and wore tight-fitting leathers.
Darik was a good twenty years older, with salt-and-pepper hair and pallid skin beneath his buttoned-up Nox uniform.
Meera’s jade-green eyes were sharp and alert, while Darik’s black gaze was severe and bordered on hostile—though that look was usually only reserved for Viri.
It was widely known that the captain of the Nox Custodia resented her, even if he was professional enough not to let it affect their interactions. Mostly.
Everyone knew the reason, tragic as it was:
He blamed Viri for his daughter’s death.
It wasn’t her fault—she’d never even met Istrid Farrow.
But they did share history. Because sixteen and a half years ago, Istrid had been a young hunter mentored by none other than Viri’s parents, Jorth and Amity Solace.
Meera, too, had been under their mentorship, both her and Istrid fresh out of training.
As a newly engaged couple, Meera and Istrid had always hunted as a pair, with Jorth and Amity supervising—until one night, without warning, Viri’s parents didn’t show up.
That same night, a reaper caught Meera and Istrid by surprise, slashing a blade through Meera’s throat and leaving Istrid to fight alone.
Istrid managed to kill the reaper—but she didn’t survive the attack.
Meera obviously did, though her throat was so damaged that she’d had to rely on a magical amulet from that day on, an artifact left by the ancient mages that allowed her to speak mentally.
Its reach was limited to line of sight and her listeners still had to respond audibly, but at least she was able to communicate.
At least she was alive to communicate, unlike her beloved fiancé.
Ever since Istrid’s passing, Darik had hated Viri’s family—first her parents, for not protecting his daughter, and then Viri, after their deaths.
She understood his heartache. She could even relate to it. But her patience for his misplaced grudge had its limits. If Meera, who had loved Istrid beyond measure, could get past what had happened, then Darik could, too.
He, however, refused to let go of his enmity.
Even now, Viri could see it in the shadows of his eyes and the firm set of his jaw.
But she met his gaze unflinchingly, and when he pointed an angry finger at the chair in front of Meera’s desk, she trudged over and slumped onto it, bracing for the scolding she was about to receive.
Deciding her smartest move was to go on the offense, Viri waited for Meera to take her seat before she jumped in first to ask, “Anything either of you would like to tell me?”
Meera’s brows shot up as she mentally repeated, “Anything we want to tell you?”
“Mm-hmm.” Viri brushed lint off her cloak. “I’ll give you a hint: When the Reaper Priest’s right-hand man is arrested and says he’ll only talk to one person, maybe, just maybe, that person should be made aware of it.”
A flash of guilt from Meera, but Darik’s black eyes were stern.
“There are protocols to follow, Solace,” the Nox captain said. “You know that.”
Viri looked to her mentor and was heartened—slightly—by the hint of frustration on Meera’s face. Darik was a rule follower and instilled that trait in his guards. Meera had a hunter’s heart and recognized that some rules were made to be broken.
“Reapers don’t have rights,” Darik went on in his deep, gravelly voice. “Just because Ashton wanted to speak to you doesn’t mean we had to agree. We followed procedure and took his request to the council; if they’d voted yes, then we would have brought you in.”
“They voted no?” Viri was surprised. Reeve’s proximity to the Priest was enough that even Sarielle would see the value in getting him to talk, no matter what—or who—it involved.
The Magistratus might be Viri’s guardian, but protective or not, she had a moral obligation to put the good of the many before the good of the few.
“They haven’t voted yet,” Meera answered for Darik. With a dry look, she added, “And there’s no need to now, is there?”
Viri squirmed in her seat.
“We know Archer took you to see Ashton,” Darik said, disapproval lacing every word. “He hasn’t admitted to anything, but there’s no point denying it.” His tone shifted with warning. “Your friend’s loyalty is going to get him in real trouble one day.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Viri said quickly. “I made him do it.”
Meera snorted. “Soren Archer doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. Try again.”
Before Viri could reply, Darik interjected, “We can discuss your blatant disregard for the rules later. For now, we only have two questions.”
Just two? Viri wondered. Her head was buzzing with thousands, all of which remained unanswered thanks to the arrogant reaper imprisoned beneath her feet.
Darik’s hands moved to his hips. “Why did the Reaper Priest’s most loyal servant request to speak to you”—his gaze was shrewd, suspicious even, as he emphasized—“only you, and what did he say?”
Viri hesitated, knowing she needed to be careful. Darik and Meera hadn’t become captain and commander by chance. Both were perceptive enough to sense deceit—Meera especially, when it came to Viri.
Keeping as close to the truth as possible, she answered, “Ree—Ashton didn’t say why he wanted to speak to me.” True. “If I had to guess, it was so he could taunt me.” Also true, just not in the way Meera and Darik would think.
Sure enough, Meera’s features softened. She rubbed the thick, jagged scar across her throat as she said, “Because of your parents?”
Darik’s expression darkened at the mention of Amity and Jorth, but then he turned thoughtful.
“Of course—Ashton would know all about what happened to them. And your reputation is growing among reapers, so it makes sense that he’d target you.
” He paused. “But it still seems very personal. Why not another hunter? Or a Nox? Or a council member?”
Viri found herself wishing Darik were just a little less adept at his job—or at least less intuitive with his line of questioning.
“He didn’t say,” she repeated, unwilling to offer more.
“What did he say, then?” Meera asked, steepling her hands on her desk. “Did he tell you anything about the Priest?”
This answer was easier for Viri, if still infuriating. “I tried to get him to talk, but he was toying with me. Playing games.” In a mutter, she added, “He’s so full of himself that it’s a marvel his head can fit in his cell.”
“Think hard, Solace,” Darik urged. “Are you sure he didn’t give anything away?”
Viri shook her head. “There was nothing. He was very clear that he would only answer my questions if—”
“If what?” Meera pressed, leaning forward into her palms.
“He tried to make me a deal,” Viri admitted. “His freedom for my answers.”
Their reactions were predictable: Meera sighed with annoyance, and Darik’s lips thinned.
“Hardly unexpected,” Meera said, “but still, disappointing.”
“I can try again,” Viri offered, albeit reluctantly. It had been seven years since she’d last seen Reeve; she’d much prefer to wait another seven—or more—for their next encounter.
“We’ll consider it,” Darik said, though his frown said otherwise. “For now, we’ll keep him isolated. Once he comes to terms with his new living situation, he might be more inclined to share what he knows.”
Viri doubted that, but she nodded anyway and stood, eager to venture outside and start her hunt. Reapers dwelled in the mountains and undercity, too, but today, she needed fresh air and sun on her skin. She needed to feel alive.
“If that’s all—” she began, moving toward the door.
“It’s not,” Darik said, making Viri pause.
He didn’t continue immediately, instead taking his time to straighten his black leather gloves, something he was never seen without.
Meera wasn’t the only one with scars—no one knew where Darik’s came from, just that they were grisly enough for him to keep them concealed at all times.
“There’s still your punishment to address. ”