Chapter 40 – Azaria
AZARIA
The safe house was silent when I arrived.
No lamps. No fire. Just the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the gaps in the shuttered windows, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards.
I preferred it that way. Darkness made it easier to think.
Easier to focus. Easier to remember why I was here.
I pulled off my cloak, folded it over the back of the single chair, and checked my blades. Two daggers, both freshly sharpened. One strapped to my thigh, the other tucked into my boot. The weight of them was familiar. Comforting. I’d been waiting for this night for two weeks.
Hallen and Vareck.
The council members who’d thrown me into a cell. Accused me of treason, of corruption, of crimes I hadn’t committed. Looked me in the eye and smiled while they did it. They’d fled the moment Dain released me. Cowards. But Darann had found them. And tonight, they’d answer for what they’d done.
The door opened without warning, a gust of cold air sweeping through the room. Darann stepped inside, dragging a man behind him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with thinning hair and a face I recognized immediately.
Hallen.
His hands were bound behind his back; his expensive robes were torn and filthy. Blood streaked down the side of his face from a gash above his temple. He stumbled as Darann shoved him forward, catching himself on his knees with a grunt.
Behind them, Ren slipped through the doorway.
Silent and efficient, as always. I’d spent enough time in Darann’s Calvessan manor to recognize his right-hand man.
He wore dark leathers with his hood pulled low despite the shadows.
His gaze flicked to me briefly, a silent acknowledgement, before returning to Hallen.
Ren nodded once and slipped out. The door shut with a quiet click.
I stepped forward and stopped a few feet from where Hallen kneeled. He lifted his head slowly, eyes widening as he recognized me.
“Captain Sylvenhart,” he breathed, voice shaking. “Thank the gods?—“
“Don’t.”
He flinched.
I crouched down, meeting his gaze at eye level. His pupils were blown wide, fear thick in the air between us.
“You threw me in a dungeon,” I said. “Accused me of treason. Smiled while you did it.”
“It wasn’t—I didn’t want to?—“
“Where’s Vareck?”
Hallen’s mouth snapped shut.
Darann’s grin was sharp as a blade. “Oh, don’t worry, Princess. He’s coming.”
As if summoned, the door opened again. Muffled shouting, the scrape of boots against cobblestones, a dull thud followed by a choked gasp. Ren reappeared, dragging Vareck by the collar. Darann didn’t look at him. Just jerked his chin toward the door.
“Good work,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Now leave. Make sure no one can track you back here.”
Ren nodded again and vanished.
Vareck was in worse shape. Nose broken, blood streaming down his chin, one eye swollen shut, lip split. He thrashed weakly as Darann hauled him inside and threw him to the floor beside Hallen. He landed hard, gasping, and didn’t try to get up.
Darann dusted off his hands, rolling his shoulders like he’d finished a light warm-up. Cedar and bergamot cut through the smell of blood.
“There we are,” he said, tone almost cheerful. “Both rats delivered as promised.”
I stood, gaze moving between the two men crumpled on the floor. They looked small. Pathetic. Two weeks ago, they’d held all the power. Stood in that council chamber with their chins high and their voices cold, condemning me without flinching.
Now they kneeled at my feet, bloodied and broken, and I felt nothing.
No, that wasn’t true.
I felt hungry.
Vareck recovered first. He had always been the sharper of the two. He lifted his head, one good eye fixing on me, and his voice came out steadier than it had any right to be.
“The missing councilors,” he said. “That was you. You killed them.”
I shrugged. “I did.”
Something gutted behind his expression. The political mask cracking, the animal beneath it surfacing. “You won’t get away with this. They will know. They will find you.”
I looked around the empty room. The shuttered windows, the bare walls, the two bound men bleeding on the floor with no one left to hear them.
“And who exactly will know?”
Hallen wasn’t as composed. His breathing came ragged, his bound hands twisting behind his back. “Please. Torven forced us. He had leverage—our families, our positions?—“
“Everyone has a choice,” I said. “You just chose wrong.”
“We were protecting?—“
“Yourselves.” My voice cut through his. “Don’t dress it up as anything else.”
Vareck’s eyes darted to Darann, then back to me. Calculating, even now. “We have information. Things Torven never told his other contacts. Supply routes. Dravareth’s chain of command inside Kareth. Names you don’t have yet.”
“I already have the names,” I said. “Your associates were more cooperative than you’d expect.”
The calculating look died.
“Darann.”
“Yes, Princess?”
“Hold him.”
Darann stepped forward, grabbed Hallen by the hair, and wrenched his head back, exposing his throat.
Hallen screamed. I drew the dagger from my thigh in one smooth motion; the blade catching the faint moonlight.
“I have children?—“
“So did the people you condemned.”
And I cut his throat. Clean, precise, and identical to every other kill I'd made in the last two weeks.
The Ghost’s signature.
Blood poured down his chest, hot and dark. His body convulsed once, twice, then went still. Darann let him drop.
Vareck was screaming now, thrashing against his bindings, trying to crawl backward across the floor. I stepped over Hallen’s body and crouched in front of him. He froze, staring at me with wide, terrified eyes. I didn’t give him time to beg again.
The blade flashed, quick and clean, and Vareck’s scream cut off mid-breath. He slumped forward, blood pooling beneath him, and didn’t move again. I straightened, wiped the blade clean on Vareck’s shirt before sliding it back into its sheath.
The room was silent except for the faint drip of blood hitting the floorboards. I stared down at the two bodies, waiting for something. Relief, perhaps, or satisfaction. Justice served, revenge taken.
Hallen. Vareck. Two more names crossed off. But the list wasn’t empty. Not even close. And the hunger gnawed at me. The void Eris had left behind still yawned wide, and no amount of blood could fill it.
Darann stepped up beside me, arms crossed, gaze moving between the bodies. “What now, Princess?”
“There are more.”
He nodded once, as if he’d expected that answer. “Then let’s get to work.”
He moved toward the door, already planning the next steps. Disposal, cleanup, the careful choreography of making two council members disappear without a trace. I stayed where I was for a moment longer.
I twisted the silver band on my finger, once, twice, feeling the cool metal press into my skin.
I’m sorry.
The apology wasn’t for Hallen or Vareck.
It was for Eris. For Dain. For the woman I used to be before the council threw me in a cell and reminded me just how easily everything could be taken away.
I released the ring, let my hand fall to my side, and turned toward the door. Darann was waiting.
“Let’s go,” I said.
And we disappeared into the night.