Chapter 27
My feet pound the cobblestones, slick from the mist blowing off the ocean. A thick fog has rolled in, blotting out the glow of the lanterns lining the street and masking the brick homes with a haze. Not even the stars blink down to light the path.
I keep my steps even, dodging shallow puddles as I sneak through alleyways. It’s not that late, but few people wander the streets when they’re coated in fog. Even though my name has been erased from their minds, many still believe the Sea Princess lurks the shores on nights like these.
My lip quirks. It was only once. Thea wanted to see how many men I could make scream.
It was a lot.
I emerge onto the road that separates the well-built seaside homes from the slums. The hairs rise on the back of my neck and I freeze, hovering my palm over my dagger.
A foot splashes into a puddle. Then another. And another.
I scan the dense fog, but I can’t see farther than a couple feet in front of me.
“Who’s there?” I say, my voice firm despite my heart rattling in my chest.
Three tall, broad shadows manifest.
“What have we got here?” one says, his voice deep.
I wrap my hand around the hilt. “I don’t want any trouble.”
They step closer, and their outlines morph into solid figures. Three men, each donning the uniform of the Sky Court armada appear before me. Gold falcons substitute typical buttons on their white shirts.
At the collar, above the medals depicting their distinguishes and rank, their names are embroidered in light blue thread.
“Don’t worry,” the one closest to me says, his shirt untucked from his pants. His breath reeks of beer, and the end of his nose is a splotchy purple. “We won’t hurt you. Just want to talk.”
“Yeah,” another cuts in. “After lugging those selkies to the castle, we could sure use some company.”
I freeze, and my heart leaps into my throat. “Selkies?”
“Screamed the entire way there, even more so when we took their tails.”
My blood turns to ice. They must be for the trial tomorrow, and if they’re without their tails? A lump forms in my throat.
A sick grin spreads over the face of one of the men. “Nasty sea vermin.”
Red clots my vision. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
His back goes rigid, and his grin twists into a sneer. His blonde hair is neatly kept despite the stain running down the front of his shirt. “I like a woman who’s got a bit of a mouth on her.”
I slide the blade from my thigh as he stalks forward and runs a finger along my jaw. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here all alone?”
His tone speaks of intentions I’ve skinned men for. I catch the surname embroidered on his shirt. Beswick.
“None of your business.”
His gaze dips to my chest. “You’d be a fun time, wouldn’t you?”
“I hope those Sea Court vermin kill every single one of you.” I spit in his face.
He flinches back and wipes a forearm over his eyes. “You bitch.”
I go to flick out my dagger, but a large pair of hands appear from behind and pin my arms to my sides. I struggle against them, but they’re clamped down too tight. Hot breath grates against my ear, down my neck.
The man in front of me sneers. “You were saying?” Winding a hand back, he slaps me across the face.
My head jerks to the side, cheek stinging from where his hand met skin. I pause, then turn back to him, an amused smile tugging at my lips. “Perhaps I want trouble after all.”
I plant my feet against the ground and throw my head back, slamming it into the man’s nose. A satisfying crack echoes through the silent street and I spin, sinking my dagger into the soft flesh beneath his ribs. A lethal blow, but slow and painful.
He falls in a heap, grasping at his side.
The third man sidesteps in front of me and swings a fist toward my jaw, but I duck and knock his feet out from under him. He clatters to the ground on his stomach, and before he can get his hands beneath him, I yank his hair and drag my blade across his throat.
Standing, I suck in a deep breath. I’ve missed this—the thrill of being feared. The surprise on a man’s face when he realizes he’s about to meet his demise at my hand.
I turn on my heel, where a hard gaze is pinned on me, hands readied into fists. The drunken haze has disappeared from his eyes. Yet his jaw trembles.
Canting my head, I give him a sinister smile. “Oh Beswick, you aren’t afraid of me, are you?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
I step closer, slowly. “What, you don’t think I’d be a fun time anymore?” I frown. “Pity. I’m having a blast.”
He snarls and throws a right hook. I dodge it, his knuckles nothing but a breeze against my skin.
I laugh. “Does Caelus truly do such a terrible job training his soldiers, or are you lot the runts?”
His teeth clench together, crimson rising up his neck. “Didn’t stop me from slaughtering hundreds from the sea.”
My power thrashes against its chains, begging to burst free, but it’s held down tight. No matter.
He pivots and throws out a leg aimed for my middle. I leap back and slice my blade along his ankle—not enough to maim, but enough to keep him from running away. He lands on the foot and crumples, palms digging into the gravely stones.
I kick his side and he sprawls to his back—into the blood seeping from the bodies of his friends. I settle my knee on his chest and pin him to the ground. He beats against my thigh, but it doesn’t register as I dip my face closer to his.
“You do know who hunts these streets when the fog rolls in, don’t you?” I whisper, twisting my mouth into a grin.
His face blanches. “That’s a myth. The Sea Princess is gone.”
I let out a low laugh and tease the tip of my dagger down his cheek. “How could she have disappeared when you’re staring at her?”
His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth—either to insult me or beg for mercy. I’ve heard both. I don’t give his words a chance to form as I raise the dagger high over my head and plunge it into his chest. Blood gushes from the wound, retribution for every soul he’s stripped from the sea.
I lean closer as the life leaves his body, and whisper, “I’ve come back for revenge.”
When his chest no longer rises, I stand and wipe my dagger on his shirt. I survey the other motionless bodies, their blood streaming through the divots between the cobblestones.
Footsteps sound from the alleyway behind me. My stomach hollows and I flick my hood up over my face, turning to the thick shadows. I grip my dagger so hard my knuckles burn.
Kressa emerges from the shadows and gives me a slow clap. “Impressive.”
A vise wraps around my throat. “I told you not to follow me. You’ll be killed if a guard catches you.”
She leans against a stone wall, perfectly comfortable wandering the streets at night. I narrow my eyes. How often has she left this past week?
An amused smirk teases her lips. “I won’t be caught.”
I scan the street. “You didn’t think to step in when they attacked me?”
“You told me you’d handle it.” She shrugs. “And I knew they didn’t stand a chance.”
Something in my chest warms. Flickers. “Since I’ve proved I don’t need a warden, you can go back to the castle now.”
She steps closer. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll slow me down.”
She laughs and closes the space between us. Lifting a hand, she drags her thumb over my lower lip. Blood that is neither mine nor hers coats her finger, and she wipes it on my cloak. “But what if I told Caelus there’s a woman out here impersonating the Princess of the Sea to scare men?”
My knees threaten to buckle, hand slipping on the hilt. But I search her eyes. There’s not a trace of accusation, only amusement. “Your threats are beginning to bore me.”
She smiles, eyes twinkling in the low light. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Fine, but do me a favor and keep your mouth shut.”
I step over the soldiers and follow the curve in the road where brick houses turn into dilapidated shells. The road ends, then drops off to packed dirt. A carefully constructed tent borders the narrow pathway with its flap open, buttery light spilling out.
I hold my arm out, keeping Kressa back, and dip my head into the tent. An elderly couple sits at an overturned wooden crate, splitting a meager meal of dried meat and bread.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I’m looking for a woman named Dolma.”
They scan me, their gazes lingering on the thick, expensive cloak secured around my neck. I unfasten the button and sling it over my arm.
“May I come in?”
The husband glances to his wife, and she nods.
I duck under the opening and stride to the small table, holding out the cloak.
“We don’t take handouts. Or bribes,” the woman says, her voice fierce despite the tremor in her hands.
“Would it help if I told you I stole this from a noblewoman?”
The deep wrinkles around the woman’s eyes soften. “I suppose the threaded initial would be easy enough to remove.”
I nod. “It’s ugly anyway.”
She smiles, and the sight warms the tent more than the lantern. “Last I saw Dolma, she was huddled around a fire with a group a few rows down.” She tilts her chin in the direction we were headed. “But be easy on her. She lost her husband in The Gales.”
My chest swallows my heart. “I will.”
I exit the tent, and cool air kisses my face. The slums are quiet without carts bumping over rough roads or soldiers barking orders.
“Where’s your cloak?” Kressa says.
“What cloak?”
I stride past her, but not before I catch the quirk of her lips.
We weave through rows of tents and ramshackle buildings until we come to a fire, burning like sunshine through the fog. A group sits on driftwood logs set in a circle around the flames, warming their hands and passing around bits of food.
“Stay here,” I whisper.
She nods, and I stride closer as men, women, and children watch me approach—like I’m a debt collector ready to snatch whatever they have left. Their clothes hang from their bodies, many of them barefoot.
“I’m looking for Dolma.”
A woman on the far side, holding a round belly, raises her hand.