Chapter 1 #3
Carrick frowned and shook his head. “No one’s seen or heard from the witches in over eight weeks. You don’t think anything has happened to them, do you?”
“They’re likely in hiding.” Talwyn didn’t voice her thoughts. If enemies were nearby, their friends with earth-given magic might have found trouble.
“Does this change things?”
Talwyn bit her lip. Plans had been set in motion months before their discovery of Pochette’s betrayal. They originally decided the docks needed a change of hands, and the rendezvous tonight merely pushed things along. But they hadn’t prepared for a new, more powerful rival.
Egan and the twins joined the table, interrupting her thoughts.
“Could you two have been more obnoxious?” Egan teased the twins, presenting a platter of food. His short, lithe frame snuck past Talwyn into the chair beside her, and his plain features twisted into a mocking smile.
Sybil scoffed and held her hand over her heart.
“We were tasked with keeping watch at Gale’s tavern.
Nothing, and I mean nothing is more conspicuous than a sober patron at Gale’s.
” Her beak-like nose turned up at the smaller boy.
Given her unusual height, Egan could only peer up her nostrils.
Sybil leaned her broad shoulders over the table and turned her attention to Talwyn.
Her hair, so black it swallowed any surrounding light, fell in front of her face.
She flipped the shoulder-length waves back over her shoulder.
“Nice to see you awake for once, Talwyn. How does it feel to be sober?”
“I’ve built up enough reserve magic to take care of one thug,” she responded. She chose not to respond to Sybil’s question. “Do I have your visions to thank for moving things along, or did your little act get out of hand?”
Sybil winked. “I can neither confirm nor deny whether my actions were part of the plan or merely a stroke of genius.”
Sybil’s air magic made her a seer, lending her glimpses of the many possible outcomes in a yet unwritten future. Despite her words, she would have known if her drunken act would reveal their presence or move things along.
“And where were you?” Sybil pointed a roasted pigeon leg at Egan.
“In the shadows, as we all should have been,” Rainier chastised in a raspy voice.
Sybil’s twin, Rainier, could not be more unlike his sister, with broader shoulders and black hair roughly cut at his ears.
Where Sybil was boisterous, Rainier was observant.
Where Sybil acted on pure instinct, her brother made precise calculations before taking the first step.
His gift was no different. Sybil’s magic allowed her to see another’s future like the branches of a tree all based on a single decision.
Rainier’s allowed him to influence others with only his voice, his magic carried on the wind that gifted it to him, and his victim would do whatever he said as if they had come up with the idea on their own.
They had been an interesting addition to Talwyn’s little gang.
It appeared the gods had gifted each power with a purpose.
The impulsive one received the ability to see consequences, while the methodical one received the ability to make choices for others—they balanced each other out.
They bickered more than anything, but their fierce loyalty to each other and the rest of the crew was invaluable.
“Then why did you join in with the act?” Sybil retorted. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you enjoyed it.” She tore off a large chunk of meat and sat back in her seat.
“You gave me no choice. I had to make sure my cocksure sister didn’t draw the attention of every drunken fool in the establishment. You’d do well to remember that not everyone knows you can kill a man without blinking. We didn’t have the time nor the space to clean up your messes tonight—”
“Enough,” Carrick interrupted. His attention remained on a crowd growing at the entrance.
Talwyn withheld a groan. In full metal armor stood Daire, the captain of the palace guard, and Talwyn’s most annoying mistake. He carried his helmet under one arm and rested his free hand on the pommel of his sword. His eyes twinkled as he approached.
The captain was handsome enough. Growing up training with the king’s knights had sculpted his body into a muscular physique worthy of making even Sybil swoon. His thick, chestnut hair fell over his eyes, and his thin lips curled into a hungry smirk that grabbed Talwyn’s attention as a young teen.
They’d formed a friendship after he happened upon her at the royal stables, and years later it had turned into something more.
She would study his pointed nose, his hard jawline, and get lost in his sky-blue eyes.
But at some point, the confident teen had turned into a misguided young man.
Instead of swapping stories, he criticized Tal for her actions, and the fantasy extinguished.
When she ended their little fling, he had the nerve to be sad about it, which infuriated her.
Carrick rolled up the sleeves of his loose cotton shirt and faced the newcomer, his muscles on full display.
“Tal, you’re looking wonderful tonight.” Daire flashed what he believed was his champion smolder, and the twins groaned audibly while Egan did his best to dissolve into his seat.
Talwyn took another gulp of the warm ale and slammed the cup on the table. “Go away, Daire. I’m busy.” She sighed at the cup, refusing to meet his eyes.
He placed a hand on his metal chest plate, feigning hurt. “Am I that unwelcome? Have you forgotten our time together already, my love? I certainly haven’t.” He leaned into her ear and whispered, “I still dream of my name on your tongue, your gasps in my ear as I—”
Tal jerked her head away from the captain and pushed him. Carrick stood up, nearly knocking the table over, and bumped Daire with his chest. “Captain or not, your rank means nothing to me,” he threatened. “You’ll listen to Tal, or you’ll get out.”
Daire sneered at Carrick. The two towering men stood eye-to-eye, but Carrick bested the captain in muscle. Several of Daire’s regiment had scattered around the tavern, hands on their swords, ready for a fight.
“Enough.” Talwyn sighed. She stepped between the two men and pushed Carrick back into his seat before turning to the soldier. “What do you want, Daire?”
“A word… alone.” He narrowed his eyes at Carrick.
“Fine. Alone,” she emphasized the word, nodding at his watching soldiers.
Daire nodded and his men swiftly found their own spots around the tavern. He walked out the door and away from anyone within hearing distance, Talwyn close behind.
When she’d had enough, Talwyn crossed her arms and stopped. “I think this is sufficient.”
Daire turned with a smirk on his lips. “You always did try to control the situation.”
“And you always assumed I’d fall in line like one of your subordinates.”
“A woman’s place is at her man’s side, not fighting his battles,” he shot back.
Besides Tal, the women in his life had been decorations for their husbands to flaunt around like some kind of trophy, never speaking, never doing anything without the man’s permission.
Their time together had no effect on his narrow-minded views.
She glared at him. “My food is getting cold.”
Daire sighed and changed his tone. “The king is looking for a wife.”
“Wasn't he already betrothed?” King James was barely three years older than her; a child compared to the rulers of the surrounding kingdoms. He remained unmarried and had a reputation of using his position to his advantage with the ladies of the noble families—married or otherwise.
“He’s broken the engagement.”
“So?”
“So,” Daire began, “there will be events held in his honor to help him find a wife. His counsel is pushing for a profitable marriage with a foreign royal, so he’s agreed to a masquerade to host ladies from the surrounding kingdoms.”
Tal inspected her nails. “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”
“As captain of the palace guard, I will be invited as an esteemed guest. And I am expected to bring my own lady to escort.”
She paused her annoyed theatrics and peered up at him. “Your own lady?”
“Yes, Tal.” He sighed, exasperated.
“I’m no one’s lady.”
“Well, clearly, we’ll need to work on your appearance and behavior, but I have the palace dressmaker at my disposal, and he can work wonders. And as long as you don’t speak to anyone, the night could be quite enjoyable.”
Tal barked out a laugh. She had been a fool to let their friendship mature into something more. Clearly, the man could benefit from actually listening to himself. “I thought I made it clear that I despise being used.”
“Used? Tal, this is your chance to get away from the docks. I’m offering you an advantageous marriage, that—”
“Marriage? Again? You think I want to marry you? What we had was a fantasy of your own making, Daire. Look at me.” She held out her arms, displaying her leather pants and lack of corset or skirts, her belts and straps with multiple sheaths for knives and daggers, her messy hair and dirt covered skin.
“This is the real me, a bounty hunter. Not some shy little mouse for you to play with or show off to the vultures at your table. Let it go. I will never be the lady you wish me to be. Go find some innocent brat to spoil with your wealth and big ego. I want none of it.” She turned to storm off, but he grabbed her arm.
On instinct, she used her free arm to unsheathe a dagger and held it at his exposed throat.
Daire tensed, but to his credit, he didn’t let go of her arm. He gulped before saying, “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life having to carry blades out of fear? I could protect you. You’ll never want for anything.” The misguided sincerity in his gaze infuriated her.
“If you think I carry these out of fear, then you know nothing about me, especially not what I want.” She tore her arm out of his grasp and stomped back into the tavern.
In her anger, she slammed the door open, causing everyone to jolt and stare at her. She seethed under their gazes and clenched the dagger still in her hand. A few soldiers reached for their swords until their captain appeared behind her.
“I’ll await your answer,” he said quietly enough for only her to hear. With a single gesture, he signaled his men to follow him out of the establishment.
At their exit, Sybil yelled, “And stay out, ya lumpish milk-livered pignut!” A roar of laughter erupted, followed by a few cheers of, “Here, here!”
Talwyn stalked back to the table and took the pint Carrick had offered earlier, still untouched. She chugged the drink whole and plopped down with a belch.
“What did he want?” Carrick asked, a hint of irritation still in his voice.
“He wants me to marry him,” she said flatly and was promptly showered with ale as Sybil spit out the swig she had just taken.
“He proposed? Here? At the tavern?” Egan asked, incredulous.
“How romantic,” Sybil added while wiping spittle from her chin.
Tal took a cloth from Carrick’s outstretched hand and wiped her face. “And he wants me to attend the king’s masquerade ball as his guest.”
“A king’s ball? This is the first I’ve heard of it.” Rainier prided himself in learning information first. He wouldn’t take it lightly that he wasn’t already aware of the event.
Talwyn nodded. “The king ended his engagement, and the ball is to help him find a new one.”
“Ah yes, because every lady wants to be paraded around like a goat at an auction for some greedy royal to decide if she’s ripe enough to sink his cock into.” Sybil stole her brother’s drink and ignored the incredulous look he gave her.
Talwyn snorted. “I told him as much.”
“I wonder what motivated the king’s decision,” Rainier considered aloud. “But an invitation to the ball could be useful.”
“I’m not going. I refuse to be dragged around on his arm like some sort of prize he’s won. And accepting such an invitation would also mean accepting his proposal.”
“You don’t want to get off the streets, Tal?” Egan asked in a tone that often came off as timid. But where Rainier observed his surroundings, Egan silently controlled his impulses. He was the perfect ghost during jobs, but when emotions ran high, he lost himself to his own demons.
His exact ability remained a mystery. Nevertheless, in a fight, Tal wanted him on their side.
When she accepted their last member, Egan confided his fear that he would one day give in to the rage and never find his way out.
She promised she’d never let that happen, but now she wondered if the boy, only eighteen, hoped to find a way out of life by the docks.
If he never had to fight, would he never have to worry about losing himself?
“I would never be accepted by them. I have no delusions about what I am and do not have the self-control to hide it.” Her eyes softened at her young friend who nodded and sat back.
Talwyn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Her head felt like it had split in two. Using her elemental fury shouldn’t exhaust her the way it did lately, but she had been distracted with Pochette’s betrayal.
She had always planned to end his life, and her crew ultimately decided this summer would be the time to do it.
The docks needed someone in power who would help the poor, not steal from them.
They worked painstakingly among the shadows to put themselves on top, but the added surprise of the mages disrupted their plans.
She remembered what Pochette said about her hair color bleeding through and set a mental reminder to get more elixir from the alchemist. She’d finished the last of the eye drops after returning from the Kiln, her eyes now the same deep brown as Carrick’s.
She would need to have a not-so-friendly chat with the old man.
The blasted mixes he’d been giving her lately washed out sooner and sooner with each application.
She suspected he altered the formula to rob her of her coin.
Something else bothered her, nagging at the back of her mind, but every time she reached for it, the thought slipped away.
Something Pochette had said needed to be addressed.
They needed to return to the tunnels and make plans for the retribution.
They’d anticipated Pochette’s men taking revenge, but she needed to go over the plans again, needed to be sure they accounted for every lackey, every hired servant, until they were sure they wouldn’t be caught unawares.
The nagging thought tickled her mind again, and she focused on it; a whisp of a word reached her tongue.
“Fire!” A man burst into the tavern screaming the word. “They’ve burned the docks! All of Pochette’s is in flames!”