Chapter Ninety-Nine Myla
I’m freshly showered and just barely dressed when Leesi enters my room. “Father Yamin has requested your attendance in the temple.”
My slippered steps are soft against the polished stone as I follow two guards through the palace to the temple’s entrance, the sight of the dark door tightening my chest. Dressed in light yellow, I curse the way the beads on my veil are just long enough to fall over the tops of my eyes, obscuring my sight in a way that leaves me feeling too vulnerable.
I have no doubt that I could pull a sword from the scabbard on one of these assholes’ backs and drive it through their gut if it came down to it, but all the violent thoughts dancing around in my head are just that—thoughts.
Acting on them would be pointless, stupid and reckless, without a dragon to back me up.
Cold air rushes from the temple doors as the guards push them open, stirring the sheer fabric of my dress.
I keep my spine straight, my hands clasped in front of me as I walk past them and into the empty temple where the appointed Divine Father stands right next to the pole I was tied to the last time I was here.
He takes note of the way I hold myself tall and not in supplication like he expects.
“Defiance has never been a good look on you, Myla,” he chides, forgoing my royal title as he steps towards me.
In his usual black robes with his hands pulled behind his back, the picture he tries to paint of an imposing figure might scare most. It used to frighten me.
But I take a sadistic sort of pleasure in knowing that—while I may pretend to bend the knee to his will, the will of the gods he represents—there is only one being powerful enough to end a life in this temple.
And it isn’t him. “Show respect to Khaos and Solana,” he snaps, his voice echoing through the otherwise empty space. “Now.”
I take my time lowering onto my knees, facing not the thrones I did last time where my father, my mother, and Navin sat but to their right, where statues of the god Khaos and goddess Solana are etched into shiny white marble.
The former is depicted in layers of fabric that gather over one shoulder and drape down his back like a cape.
Next to him stands his daughter, her hands held in front of her, palms turned up.
She wears a dress, the fabric split down the middle with a carved line in the stone.
In one palm rests a flaring sun, and in the other a crescent moon.
“They watch over us with sadness in their hearts,” he continues, and I flatten my lips.
“To have created us in their image, only for so many of us to spit back in their faces. But a reckoning is coming for those who are no longer pious. For those who are not… pure of heart.” Father Yamin moves behind me, the sound of his robes shuffling is followed by another noise I’m familiar with.
I keep myself exceptionally still, even as my veins ice over at the clinking metal of a chain unrolling from a wooden baton.
“Tell me, Myla, have you begged for forgiveness in prayer?”
I could lie and pretend to be someone good. Someone eager to please him. But it won’t make a difference; it never has. I’d rather take his abuse than give him an ounce of satisfaction. “No.”
“That is what I feared. Now, you know what must be done.” The air stirs as he pulls his arm back, and I can picture the silver chain swinging from where it is lifted high above him.
“Our kingdom will know mercy from the gods soon, Princess, and one can only hope that they will strike those they know are unworthy from this land. That they will purify it with dragon fire until only those who deserve to know their light remain. Something big is coming. The gods have whispered so.”
I grit my teeth together as the first hit of the chain streaks across my upper back, jolting me forward from the impact until my hands plant on the ground in front of me. I quickly straighten, but Father Yamin shoves me back down.
“Only in the bowing of our heads can we find the guidance of the gods,” he says, repeating a prayer.
I close my eyes as the next hit comes. The father continues his rambling nonsense, but I tune it out as I draw on years of slipping out of the present to focus on something else.
I think of Shen and the victims I’m failing by not being able to hunt my targets.
Of Sunis and our bond that’s yet to form.
Without trying, I think of Aria. White flashes behind my lids as another whip of the chain ignites the skin across my back, the permanent tenderness of the flesh there throbbing in time to my heartbeats.
I bury myself in those memories, ignoring the realization that something within me has shifted when it comes to the siren.
That of all my mind has conjured up, getting lost in thoughts of her is by far the easiest to do.
As the strikes continue and Father Yamin angrily speaks, over and over again, I think of Aria.
The shingles creak beneath my weight as I crouch lower, my eyes squinting against the darkness of night and the cold wind that scrapes against the side of my face.
Across the street, a tavern is lit from within, the curtained window showing silhouettes of its patrons as they dance or play cards.
Palace guards and King’s Riders are among them, some surveying the space as if the Shadow would openly drink in a tavern.
Fucking idiots. Others partake in the drinks offered, though even through the shrouded glass, I watch as they make demands of things not offered.
Shen had been busy in her own tavern when I arrived, but in the note hidden in her apartment, she told me that she was handling the guards’ presence well enough.
It was affecting her ability to gather information, but she hadn’t been harassed or encountered a situation in which she felt she was endangered.
I had trained Shen in the same way I was doing with Aria, enough so that if she could lure a male to her apartment, there were enough weapons hidden within reach to easily kill him.
She knew I would dispose of the body, no questions asked.
But, even with the task made more difficult, Shen had still come through with enough evidence on a newer target.
Kaito was his name, and Shen had only been made aware of him a week ago when a female so battered and mutilated that it took three separate baths to clean all of the blood off of her was found in the street just a few blocks away from the group home.
The females who ran the charity reached out discreetly to Shen, believing that she used the profits from her bar to help supply them with whatever items they might need.
My fingers had itched for my blades as I read what Shen said the victim experienced, everything from having the tips of her ears sliced off to being branded in multiple spots by an iron.
It was horrific, and though there were so many foul beasts that needed my particular expertise, Shen had been able to learn where Kaito was going to be tonight.
And after weeks of being idle, of having my blades be all but useless, I desperately needed to watch the blood drain from an opened vein.
I observe the tavern most of the night, noting the guards as they leave and enter in batches, never once emptying the place entirely or leaving the street bare of their presence.
Kaito doesn’t leave either, and my frustration grows as the moon does above me, until it’s resting at its highest point and I find my muscles aching from holding my position for so long.
Tonight won’t be the night I give Kaito the justice he deserves, and the thought that he’ll have more time to terrorize another victim nearly has me leaping off this roof and storming into the bar, guards and consequences be damned.
That reckless line of thinking is my signal that it’s time to go.
My leg muscles shake as I slowly stand, checking the streets and alleyways that surround the structure to ensure no guards can see me.
My back is still tender from Father Yamin’s discipline, but the pain is a reminder of my purpose. Of that bigger goal.
Like the one I’m standing on, the neighboring roof is built with its highest point at the center, the tiles angling down on either side.
Backing up, I eye the distance in the silver moonlight and, with a deep breath, launch into a sprint, covering the roof quickly and leaping a few inches from the edge.
My arms windmill as I soar over the empty space between the structures and then land, tucking into a roll to minimize the sound of my weight colliding with the tiles.
The hood of my cloak falls, and I quickly tug it back up before crouching and listening for any shouting or voices to indicate I’ve been spotted.
When the streets retain the same low hum of noise, I stand back up and prepare to jump again.
Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, I’m not heading in the direction of the palace but towards my warehouse.
It’s become habit to check in on it now that so many of my father’s men occupy Khargis.
The space is mine, and finding another that can accommodate all the things I need it to would be a pain in my ass that I simply don’t have time or patience for.
Though guards patrol here as well, it’s more thinned out as there is nothing but the facade of broken-down buildings and abandoned businesses.
One day, this place might know glory under a different ruler, but for now, even in its current state, I’m grateful for the darker purpose it serves.
Climbing down to the ground, I creep to the edge of a dilapidated building, curling my fingers around the corner of the jagged stone and leaning forward to make sure the street is clear when voices halt me—one male and one female.
I palm my curved blade as I duck behind the corner and wait, keeping my eyes peeled on the street.
“Shut up!” the male shouts, a whimper following in response.
“Please. Please let me go. I didn’t know—” A loud slap silences the female, and my blood heats as my fingers tighten painfully around the hilt of my dagger.
Leaning forward again, I watch as they come into view.
A guard, tall and broad, his dark hair shorn close to his scalp and stark against the shine of the silver armor he wears, grasps a female by her arm, tugging her behind him while she cradles the side of her face.
“Stop talking, or I’ll make it even worse for you.”
My blood thrums beneath my skin. This isn’t Kaito or any of the other targets I’ve been trying to get my hands on for weeks now, but surely, it isn’t coincidence that a prime example of the filth I like to hunt appears right in front of my warehouse?
A hedonistic smile breaks free beneath my mask as I begin to formulate my plan.
Whether divinely placed in my path or not, it doesn’t matter.
Tonight, I’ll finally scratch an itch that has spent far too long being ignored.
I had questioned my morality in the past when it comes to what I do, to the joy I take in it.
Now, a certain pair of orange-hazel eyes annoyingly flickers to the forefront of my mind and brings with them the question of what she would think about this.
Stupid considering that once our time is done, I will never see her again.
“Isn’t this the part where you threaten me?
” the guard asks from where he hangs when he finally wakes.
I had knocked him out and then given the female information for the group home before dragging him, armor and all, into the warehouse.
Stripped of it now, he watches me as I tilt my head, my fingers dancing along the outside of my thigh.
“Is that what they tell you the Shadow does?” I counter, adopting a male voice. The light of a nearby flame gem cascades over his face, revealing him to be a rather handsome male.
“You’d be surprised what the king knows about you,” he says, and I scoff.
That prompts a laugh from him, the chain he’s hanging from rattling in a way that briefly pulls me back to the temple with Father Yamin.
I yank my dagger free, if only to let the cool dragon stone hilt tether me back to the present.
“That’s what he’s counting on. You underestimating him. Underestimating us.”
“You cannot underestimate that which is not a threat to begin with. After all, it was fairly easy to catch you, wasn’t it?” He says nothing, only closing his eyes as the corners of his mouth draw up.
“So go on, then. Do whatever it is you need to do to try and get information from me. It will be pointless, just so you know,” he drawls, opening his eyes when he hears my footsteps. “I’m afraid I’m just a lowly grunt without the clearance to know anything of value.”
I click my tongue as I walk behind him, dragging the tip of my blade against his back, only a thin undershirt preventing the cold metal from splitting his skin.
My own arms break out in goosebumps at the thought, and I keep walking until I’m at his side, his head turning to look down at me.
“I could do all of those things if I wanted to, but I’m guessing the king didn’t let you in on this one little fact about me. ”
“And what is that?” My blood heats at the mirth still in his voice. Just like Sir Dae, there’s a defiance in him that I ache to snuff out.
Reaching up, I undo the mask covering the lower half of my face before pulling down my hood. The guard’s eyes widen as he takes me in, his gaze running down the length of my body twice while his mouth works to pull words from his brain. Only stuttering noises come out.
I drop my voice modification. “Sometimes, I don’t capture and torture fae for information.” He heaves a shuddering breath when I twist the tip of my blade into the soft spot between his ribs. Smiling up at him, I revel in the way fear finally alights in his eyes. “Sometimes, I do it just for fun.”