Chapter 114 Myla
Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen: Myla
The next morning, I’m forced to attend a service in the temple, watching as Father Yamin paces while talking of the gods’ mercy over our kingdom. Sitting in a pale blue satin dress and matching veil, opalescent crystals dangle over my forehead from my headdress as I track the father with my eyes.
He had glared at me with unfaltering steadiness when I entered the temple behind Navin and our parents, meeting my eyes through the gaps in the fabrics covering my face.
I didn’t shy away from his leery gaze, and though I knew he couldn’t see it, neither did I stop the smirk that lifted one half of my mouth as I passed him.
I felt the press of his attention on my back and over my scars as I walked past the king, queen, and crown prince’s seats.
My place was not with my family but on the benches across from them, where the rest of the nobles sat to look upon fae royalty with the deference they were owed.
Per usual, I was not included in that honor.
As Father Yamin prattles on and on about what a blessing this winter solstice will be for the kingdom, I let my mind wander to thoughts of the spelled dagger I now have in my possession.
It had been a gift to my father from the last Void queen.
History says that by giving an offering of blood, it will allow temporary passage into another kingdom without the usual repercussion of death.
As far as I understand, the bigger the sacrifice of blood, the longer one can withstand the Spell’s effect.
It is a weapon I can’t imagine having to use myself, but one I don’t want to give to my father or anyone he might associate with.
So, for now, it will remain at my side and be used in other ritualistic offerings. I smile at the thought.
“We will have a celebration in five days’ time here at the palace,” the father says, coming to a halt beside the pole I was tied to.
Where I was whipped. My stomach churns, but I keep myself still as I listen.
“It will be a momentous time, a showcasing of the miracles granted by the gods.” The father’s onyx eyes scan over the crowd, their excitement over his words palpable in the air.
“For the first time since the end of the war, we have finally been given a positive omen. Proof that our gods are beginning to favor us once more.” The voices around me grow louder, and Father Yamin basks in the chaos he’s created, holding his arms out wide.
I look to Navin, finding his gaze already on me, and lift a brow in question.
He gives me a subtle shrug of his shoulders, the fae around us clapping and cheering.
I turn my focus on the king, his stoic expression made more so by his hardened gaze.
A crown of onyx dragon stone sits centered on his head, shining in the dancing flames of the torches lit throughout the temple.
Despite the rousing speech from the Divine Father, the fae king looks no more motivated by it than he ever has.
Next to him, my mother stares at the leader of the brethren, her gaze lost in his movements while she clutches my father’s hand tightly.
Though they have never deserved it, I once looked upon my parents with a sympathetic eye.
To lose a son in war is no easy thing. To then be preyed upon in that grief by vultures claiming to have the words of gods in their ears is sickening.
And yet they so callously tossed a daughter of their own flesh and blood away to earn favor of the very gods who had taken Shah.
If such beings existed, where was the righteous rage at them for allowing the heir to be killed?
If their influence was so vast and so powerful, why didn’t they step in?
Why hadn’t they ever stepped in? No, sympathy is an emotion I’ve long since discarded when thinking of my parents.
Now there is only venomous anger remaining as I stare at them seated on their thrones.
The service ends, and Navin finds me immediately, walking at my side as we return to our rooms. “You don’t know what any of that was about?” I ask once we’re secluded behind the closed door, taking my veil off.
“Not at all,” he answers, unbuckling his King’s Rider armor and piling it on the ground. “All Father told me was to not be late for the celebration.” He tugs on the tie securing his long hair back. “And Father Yamin hasn’t bothered me at all this week.”
“Is that strange?”
Navin all but collapses onto the couch, throwing an arm over his eyes.
“Yes. I usually am forced to pray in his presence at least once a week. And I thought for sure after the debacle last week that he would want to berate me with all kinds of nosy fucking questions.” Navin sighs, the sound relaying his exhaustion.
“But it is almost as if there is some sort of secret that I’m not in on. ”
“Feeling left out of the gossip, princess?”
Navin snorts and arches his neck as he lifts his head to look at me. “I’m tired of being forced to keep secrets I don’t want to keep and kept out of the ones I actually need to know.”
“Fair,” I deadpan, earning a collection of curses. “I can’t imagine there is anything more important than knowing that our father is abducting mages and using them to test repairing the bonds with dragons. Anything beyond that is entering the realm of impossible.”
“I know,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “But it’s just… strange that father is keeping things from me. Knowing his plans was keeping myself safe as well. If he’s suddenly not telling me things…” He swallows and leans back against the couch.
“Then there is a reason.”
“Exactly.”
Walking over to him, I kick his boot with the side of my foot. “I do appreciate you holding my secrets for me.”
His eyes widen, and he brings a hand to his mouth in mock shock as he shakes his head.
“Is my rough and mean sister actually showing appreciation for the brother who so selflessly trained her? Who has tried his best to keep her safe despite her inclination to draw herself into danger?” He gasps, sitting up tall as his hands cradle his head.
“This is the good omen Father Yamin was talking about, isn’t it?
” I stare at him, contemplating a way to cut his tongue out of his mouth without killing him.
My intent must be written on my face because he laughs in earnest, earning a harder kick on me as I turn and head for my room, his laughter trailing behind me.
My own lips curl at the sound.
Though the number of guards in Khargis has begun to thin, I avoid going to see Shen.
Her tavern has become one of the main stops for my father’s men to sit and drink, and I don’t need a drunk idiot spotting me heading into her apartment and either accusing her of helping the Shadow or attempting to apprehend me and causing damage to her business.
Instead, I go to check on my warehouse, nervous that the previously larger presence of guards might have led to the space being searched.
The deeper into Khargis I go, trading in buildings in moderate condition for ones that are dilapidated, the less frequently I spot the guards.
By the time I arrive at my destination, the street is all but empty, save for a few drunkards.
Still, I keep my ears open and eyes peeled for any sudden movement or unwelcome sound.
The door to my warehouse is at the back, hidden amongst overgrown ivy and blended into the wall by the ancient brick somehow still keeping this place together.
Pressing it open, I slide a blade from my thigh and step inside, keeping my breaths shallow as I look around.
The apprehension is part of my routine. With the windows mostly boarded up on the outside, only a scant amount of light trickles in.
I fish a flame gem from my pocket and toss it to the center of the room, closing the door behind me and taking a deep breath of the stale air.
Silence greets me, the room void of any life and, from what I can see from my quick inspection, any damage.
Resheathing my dagger, I walk to the trap door that leads to the basement, grabbing my flame gem as I go and descending the stairs into the room where I plan to bring my next target.
I check the chain and hook hanging from the ceiling, ensuring that they are ready before grabbing the wooden box I use to help me hoist the males up and setting it into place.
My fingers skim over the blades tucked into my vest and then down my sides to the two strapped at my legs.
I drum them over the hilts, rolling my shoulders back and running through my plans for the evening.
Kaito would once again be my target for the evening, and I can stake out the tavern like last time, getting a good view of not only the establishment but also the street below.
Once Kaito leaves, I’ll follow him from the rooftops until he’s away from prying eyes.
With my plan locked in place, I tug my hood over my head and slip my mask on, pocketing the flame gem before turning towards the stairs.
Darkness greets me at the top, but I only make it a few steps past the landing when I halt at the sight of the open door in front of me.
My hands immediately go to the blades at my thighs, pulling them both free as I slowly spin and eye the room.
As if on cue, guards step out from the shadowy corners and away from the walls, at least a dozen of them drawing their swords and angling them towards me. Fuck.
“Shadow of Khargis, you are to be detained on orders of the king,” one of the males shouts as he takes a step forward, the others following him.
I don’t respond, keeping my blades high as I back towards the exit, glancing at it from the corner of my eye.
Surely, there are guards waiting for me right outside the door, but I’ll take my chances out in the open rather than trapped in here with them.
Spinning on my heel, I bolt towards the door, only to be pushed back as two guards step in front of the doorway.
I kick at the chest of one of the guards and send him stumbling backwards.
Voices shout, and creaking metal rends the air behind me, every nerve ending alight with rage as I rush the second male.
His sword is already drawn, and he wastes no time jabbing it in my direction, forcing me to jump out of the way.
I shiver with the knowledge that there are more guards behind me as I drop to my knees and slide my blade over the guard’s heel, severing the tendon.
But I time his fall poorly, the metal armor of his shoulder colliding with mine as I push myself up to stand.
I grunt at the impact, stars bursting over my eyes before I push his body into the fray behind me and dart past the door.
Cold winter air stings my eyes, and through the tears that form, my breath once more clouding the air in front of me, I come face to face with another dozen guards.
Spinning on my heel, I rush down the side of the building, resheathing my curved blade to grab the smaller ones in my vest. I ready the first one and release it as I run, the stumbling of the guard’s steps at my side telling me I’ve struck true.
I grab another and aim for a male behind me, throwing the blade only to watch it whiz by the guard’s head.
Shit. I grab another and throw it at an angle in front of me, that one sinking into the flesh at his throat.
But as I push myself to move faster, the silver sea surrounding me begins to close in.
I pump my arms harder, the hood of my cloak slipping off of my head as I finally see the dark alleyway that separates my warehouse and the building next to it.
If I can get there, I can lose them in the shadows.
And I nearly do. Retrieving the daggers at my thighs again, I slash at a guard who attempts to reach me from the side, leaping over his body and landing roughly on my feet.
I’m ten steps away, air scraping along my cheeks as I breathe heavily through my mask.
The darkness ahead reaches out to cradle me in its arms, and I’m almost there, just another few steps—
Except, when I finally break past the corner of my warehouse and step onto the loose gravel of the alley, I don’t account for the guard already waiting in the shadows.
His fist connects with my jaw before I have time to react, my feet getting swept from underneath me as the sound of bone on bone rings out and my shoulder slams into the ground, knocking both daggers from me as my head ricochets from the impact.
I try to roll onto my hands and knees, my head swimming and vision blurry, but before I can make it up, the other guards are there.
One wrenches one arm behind me, while another grips my hair and yanks my head back, forcing me into a backbend to stare up at his hungry eyes.
“We’ve finally caught you!” he shouts. My wrists are tied behind me as my chest heaves, the guards collecting my weapons while I’m hauled to my feet and spun around to face the male who pulled my hair.
“Now, let’s see what this fearsome Shadow looks like. ”
He tugs my mask down, revealing my full features to him and the rest of the guards. A few let out dramatic gasps of surprise, while others leer, licking their lips like the pathetic dogs they are as they drag their gazes down my body.
“Who are you?” the guard before me asks, leaning forward so that his nose nearly touches mine. “There is no way that a bitch is the Shadow.”
I tilt my head, my tongue dragging over the front of my teeth and the blood that stains them. “Why not? It looks like they allow bitches to be guards.”
He snarls, winding his hand back so slowly that I’m able to laugh before he lands the punch to my cheek. It snaps my head to the side, both sides of my face now equally throbbing with pain. “Take her to the dungeon and inform the king that the Shadow’s associate was caught.”
Perhaps it’s because of the fucking day I’ve had, or maybe it’s because I know that I likely won’t live to see sunrise, but the fact that this idiot doesn’t believe that I am the Shadow pisses me off more than it should.
I wait until he turns around, then send the bottom of my boot directly into the soft spot at the back of his knee, smiling as he crumples to the ground.
There is more shouting, more creaking of armor, and then another explosion of pain before everything goes black.