A Heart's Spell of Havoc

Prologue Maerryl

PROLOGUE

MAERRYL

Sidestepping a group of rowdy revelers, I scowled and continued stalking down the busy road.

Curse all these happy fools filling the streets, laughing and cavorting, as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

And double curse idiotic assignments on what should be my night off.

It had been months—when will the Takers Guildmaster be done testing me?

Scents of grilled meats, ale, and fruit handpies filled the cacophonous night air as I passed through a small night market, nimbly dodging passersby.

Tempting aromas, but I knew by now how to stay on task.

How to deny myself to get what I needed.

My destination grew close, and I ducked down an alley that would bring me there faster. And with less… joviality around.

Near midnight, the streets of Talon were still busy, but far less so in the residential area I headed toward.

Crowds slowly dwindled the closer I got to the outskirts.

I’d only been living in this city a few months, but I knew my way around easily by now.

With nothing much else to do other than learn my surroundings and fulfill regular assignments for the Takers Guild, I spent a large chunk of time lately just wandering—trudging around twisty alleys and wide avenues, visiting the various markets, finding out-of-the-way pubs where I could enjoy some peace and quiet.

Well, quiet at least. Peace always felt near impossible.

Life here wasn’t half as bad as I’d had before, never sure if I’d manage to scrape together enough coin for meals and a room. I needed to save every copper I could, and that meant scrimping—because every coin I spent on myself meant one I didn’t have for Balfie’s cure.

I rubbed a suddenly sweaty palm over the runic tattoo on the side of my neck.

Hated, horrible to the touch—but the only thing keeping my brother alive.

A magical tether that bound his life to mine before the sickness could overcome his small body.

This new plan had to work. Tucking my dark shawl more firmly around my neck, as if to smother the ink away, I slunk farther into Talon’s ramshackle neighborhoods on the outskirts, all senses on alert.

Quieter here, any footsteps or dog barking that sounded nearby jangled my nerves.

No matter how frugal I’d been, how much I went without, it wasn’t enough coin.

Not nearly enough. The bounty hunter jobs I took on for the past couple of years, making the most of my decent dagger skills and innate need for constant action, kept me busy but left my purse frustratingly light.

In Willowisp Woods, far from the crime hotbeds of Kurriel’s capital and port cities, bounties were too low and competition for each job was too high.

But I couldn’t make myself travel too far away from Balfie… just in case.

And after one utterly chaotic job some months ago, involving a feisty elf, a gentle half-giant, and near-disastrous decision-making on my part, my heart just wasn’t in bounty hunting anymore.

The thrill of the chase; the satisfaction of a job well done; the feeling of doing something right and just with my work, even if everything in my personal life was wrong—it didn’t mean anything after realizing how flawed Kurriel’s justice system was anyway.

And it damn well didn’t pay enough to continue supporting it.

After whisking around a corner, I hopped over a dank puddle at the last moment and then paused to steady myself.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted two city guards, chuckling tipsily as they exited a nearby pub, and forced myself not to tense or make a sudden run for it.

Carefully, I continued on my way, keeping my gait normal and even, expression relaxed, just as I’d been trained.

They barely glanced at me before strolling on their way.

This was getting easier and easier every day.

It had only been a matter of time, I supposed, before I’d swallow my morals and join the Takers Guild. I should have seen it coming. Picking up the pace, I swept along the street to my destination, keeping a sharp eye out for any more roaming city guards.

When I’d first been accepted in the guild’s thieving ranks, I’d had to prove my worth.

My past couple years of work as a bounty hunter were useful; I was a decent fighter, deft with knots, and well used to long days outside with little rest. My assignments had started small at first. Steal those candles.

Pick three people’s pockets. Distract that sentry.

Over a few months, however, the items I had to steal grew in value.

The danger increased, as well as the harm.

I knew they wanted—she wanted—to test me.

Tonight was no different. An address, a date, and a task. I must slip into a specified home in the dark of night and take everything of value that I could. Simple.

Now, though, as I moved down a side road on silent feet and arrived at the target, my steps slowed in confusion.

I found myself at a tiny cottage… almost a hovel.

Though this street was fairly well-kept—cleanly swept front steps, no nauseous scent of refuse, and pots of herbs and sweet-smelling flowers lining the windows—its occupants clearly were in the lower classes of Talon.

This street had crumbling walls and broken lampposts.

The houses were small and poorly constructed, with faded paint just barely visible in the sparse, eerie light of a flickering lamp down the way.

I double-checked the address, but no, this was indeed where the guildmaster intended to send me.

Covering my face’s lower half with my shawl, I ducked around the side of the house and peeked in a small window.

Just one candle fluttered, scantly filling the room.

A tired-looking woman sat in a corner sewing as she tried to keep her eyes open, and the narrow bed held a small child, tossing restlessly in their sleep as the woman kept watch over them.

Every so often, she put her sewing down—darning a pair of small breeches, I could see now—and smoothed a hand over the child, calming them as they slept.

My gloved fists clenched at my sides. These were the people I was meant to steal from?

This household, that seemed to have nothing more than a half loaf of bread and some worn blankets and toys?

They must have done something to annoy the guildmaster or one of her allies.

Snatched something they shouldn’t have, perhaps, or angered the wrong person.

This felt like a pointlessly vengeful task, but I had my orders.

As I watched the child, fitful in uneasy sleep, their tiny face scrunched up in distress, and the woman’s hand slowly brush, brush, brushing softly against their hair, my chest squeezed. Throat aching, I felt tears threatening to rise.

Suddenly, I knew I wasn’t going to enter that home. Not tonight, not ever.

When I finally returned to the guild near dawn, I felt ready to fall into my cot and sleep for days. I’d walked for hours around the city, trying to shake the image of that family from my mind.

But the guildmaster summoned me to her for a report as soon as I stepped back into the sleep hall. After a wistful look at my cot, I trudged back the way I’d come and set off through the guild’s winding bowels.

When Zephyra called, you always answered.

Part human, part demon, Zephyra li Novix was a tiefling—the most powerful in the Midlands of Kurriel, by far—and as feared across Talon as she was fiercely loved within the walls of her guild.

With deep crimson skin, a whip-quick tail, and midnight black curved horns that jutted out from her equally dark hair, she cut a dashing figure.

We met in her bright office, the magelight orbs a shock to my eyes after so long prowling around in the city’s darkness.

Laying a few apples, a brass candlestick, and some books on her desk—all nabbed from a shop with a conveniently unlocked window—I made up a story about successfully stealing them from my assigned address. Zephyra nodded along, picking up and twirling one bruised apple.

When I finished, a silence stretched out in the room. The glaring orbs scattered about were so bright. She said nothing, just played with the stolen fruit, red as her nails.

I began to sweat.

Pinning me suddenly with her golden gaze, the tiefling woman said in a voice like crushed ice, “We are all liars and thieves in this guild, Maerryl. But after tonight, you will never lie to me again.”

My heart stopped. I stared back at her, willing myself not to run.

She knew.

She must have had me tailed to the job. But did she know… everything? Was that why she sent me to that cottage, with the woman and child?

“Or,” she continued, fierce eyes drilling into mine, “you will be removed. Do I make myself clear?”

Unable to speak at first, I simply nodded.

Panic crept up, clogging my windpipe. I couldn’t lose my place in the guild—this was the best chance I’d found in years of getting the coin I needed for my brother’s cure.

I’d do anything to stay in Zephyra’s good graces.

After clearing my throat, I looked away and quietly spoke.

“Yes. Yes, I understand.”