34. Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Lux soaked in an unoccupied corner of the bathhouse. Though it wasn’t so much unoccupied as she was avoided by most other women who entered. Furtive glances were followed by whispers and a quick swim to the opposite side of the warm pool as soon as the steam dissolved enough for Lux’s uninviting stare to seep through.
Only Ghadra’s elite had private baths, the mayor’s mansion included. Lux’s eyes had been so wide when she first sank within one as a child. It’d been huge, big enough for three grown people, and she had swum around like a fish for an hour.
Otherwise, usually in the early evening hours, the Light frequented this bathhouse. It was popular. A place for gossip and relaxation. And, for the first time, she wondered how the poor kept clean. For the Dark had no such luxury.
Lux studied the black strands of hair against one shoulder, thoroughly cleaned now with a floral-scented soap. Riselda’s potion hadn’t just healed her ankle; it’d lightened every bruise and cured every ache. She ran a finger over her intact lips before resting her head against the side of the bath, reveling in the warmth a little longer.
“Did you see her?”
A ghost of a smile crept across Lux’s mouth. They never learned how easily sound traveled in places like this. They might as well have been speaking in her ear.
The group of three were about her age, maybe a little older, with bodies that hinted they’d never known hunger or pain. The mist blocked them from view again, and Lux closed her eyes.
“Morana’s husband died. They say she wouldn’t revive him. She refused . Even as Morana begged…on her knees.”
A round of gasps followed.
“No! Not Colden! He was so handsome. So attentive, too.”
A giggle erupted from the mist. “Yes. Attentive. I’d say he was a lot more than that with you!” More laughter followed, now amid splashes of water. The steam shifted again, and three pairs of eyes found her own.
“What a monster.”
Lux didn’t blink until they were blocked from view once more.
And when the steam moved the next time, three matching squeals filled the echoing chamber as a figure, cloaked in shadow, crouched at the pool’s edge directly behind them.
Green eyes glittered beneath black strands dripping over bared teeth.
Lux purred, “You’ve no idea.”
She’d left her hair long, curling wet down her back. Lux’s cloak was a ruined mess that she’d discarded the night before, and so she possessed nothing to cover it with as she walked the winding streets leading away from the bathhouse.
The Festival of Light was in two days’ time. Lux hoped Morana didn’t think Colden’s death so important that she pushed the celebration aside. The town would surely riot.
She could only recall one death within the mayor’s family—one that remained so, anyway. She’d been a child, her brilliance but a pulsing hint of something in her chest, and the shops closed for days, shrouded in black in respect of the ancient aunt or some sort. At last, a wagon bedecked in flowers, ribbons, and bells, transported the swathed body into the awaiting trees.
Ghadra returned to normal after that, and it hadn’t happened since.
Morana’s reaction certainly wasn’t promising; if anything, Colden’s procession would be bigger, and Lux chuckled wickedly, wondering how many women would be left mourning the loss of his late-night visits as the death-cart ambled by. She bit her lip, but no trickle of remorse could find her. Rather, she stopped short. Her fists clenched, and she seethed over what played out before her.
Two boys. Two well-dressed boys of the Light. And one cornered child against a wall.
“You don’t belong here. Go back to your hovel, you dirty Dark rat!” The taller of the two stepped forward, and she frowned at the shadow of a beard along his jaw. Older than she thought then.
When he shoved against the child before him, the body still blocked to her vision by their own, a muffled cry of rage rang out.
Disturbances in the Light drew attention, and Lux wasn’t surprised when the Shield charged around the corner in quick response, baton drawn in a threatening wave. Lux’s back, remembering its injury, throbbed. The party was oblivious, but rather than intervening, the guard slowed, observing. Then smiling. His eyes found Lux’s, and his grin turned taunting.
Did he know who she was?
With a flourish, the baton was swallowed by his uniform once more and, following a mocking nod of respect toward her, he disappeared from view.
“Useless.” Lux let the word ricochet against the brick walls and observed the boys’ spines straighten only to curve again. A shout rang out from the squat one as a small boot stomped upon his own. The cornered rat was a fighter it would seem.
The taller boy, older than even Lux, turned toward her as the shorter wound his hand through a clump of thick, blonde waves.
Aline growled, punching him in the gut with as much force as she could muster while nearly bent in half.
“Can we help you?” No recognition showed on the taller boy’s face.
“No. I won’t be needing your help.” Lux drew the winding blade from her corset. “Kind of you to ask, though.”
His eyes widened, regarding the dagger’s progress as she played with it. The shorter boy had Aline on her knees now, pushing her head down with all the strength he could gather while attempting to avoid her thrashing fists. She connected now and then, but other than a grunt or an oath, the boy refused to release her.
Lux pitched her voice so the one restraining Aline could hear. “It’s rather embarrassing to admit, but I’ve not been practicing as I should. My aim is poor. I do know I won’t hit the girl, but I’m not sure if the blade will sink into your thigh as I’d like. It’s just as likely it’ll bleed you out through your gut. Or stop your heart.” She sighed dramatically, pulling back, raising the handle high. “I’ll try my best not to kill you. My sincerest apologies if I do.”
Aline came up swinging upon her release.
Her small fist just reached the jaw of the squat boy, and though he didn’t stumble, his head rocked back with a jerk. She kicked him in the groin. She kicked him in the shin. She punched him square in the eye.
“Aline.”
The older bully had already fled at Lux’s threat, abandoning his friend. And judging from the whimper of the boy knocked to his bottom on the stones, he longed to run as well.
Brown eyes swung to her own, narrowed and searing, and it was enough time for the boy at her feet to rethink his prospects. Clutching a swollen eye, he took off down the street.
“What?” Aline straightened, smoothing her hair even as her knuckles bled into the light waves.
“Nothing. Only wanted to distract you from beating that boy to pulp on the street.” Lux replaced the blade, tucking her hands in the pockets of her skirt.
“He deserved it.”
“Probably. But then I’d be forced to revive him after his parents dumped his smelly body on my table.” Lux wrinkled her nose. “I really did it to spare myself.”
Aline snorted, trying, and failing, to coax her knuckle to clot.
Lux continued past her, the sun breaking through the clouds for a second to embrace her skin before retreating once more.
“Don’t tell Shaw.”
Lux smiled. A little thoughtful. A little annoyed.
A little sad.
“I don’t tell Shaw anything.”