16. A Calling Card
V iola lay by herself in the dark and the quiet for a while after Freya stormed off, half wishing she could cry, half wishing she could take the words back and make some other truth a reality by desire alone. Love potions were outlawed for obvious reasons, but she wasn’t sure of the moral dilemma of using them on herself. She could have found someone. She could have made herself love Freya the way she deserved.
Do you even hear yourself?
It was stupid and foolish and wrong on multiple levels. Freya deserved something real.
And potions always ran out. It wasn’t love if it was manufactured.
Heindrich came by again, of course he did. It was likely he’d run into Freya by now. Viola pretended to be resting, and after knocking a few times, he pretended he believed her.
She didn’t want to talk to anyone, not yet.
Eventually, unable to rest, she got up and emptied out the bag she’d stolen from Shadowfall, finding a book at the bottom.
It was the next part of the tale she’d been reading during her convalescence. Viola didn’t know whether to be annoyed that the stupid shadowmancer had known she was leaving or amused at the gift he’d left her. She was veering towards the latter; she’d finished the first book the day before, but hadn’t wanted to ask for the second one knowing she’d never be able to finish it in time.
Boredom overtaking annoyance, she sat down to read. It was a pleasant distraction from what had just transpired with Freya. She curled into her blankets, like guilt was a physical force she could repel if she sunk deeply enough into her bed.
I should never have let her court me in the first place.
But of course she had. After all that time feeling nothing, she’d jumped at the chance of feeling anything, hoping it would grow to more, realising that it couldn’t far too late.
I really am broken.
Both the Captain and the healer had prescribed another day of rest before Viola was allowed to train again. Viola suspected it would be another week before she was allowed out into the field, but she was at least permitted to train the new recruits, which gave her something to focus her mind on and kept her away from Freya. Unsurprisingly, there had been no new leads on the Shadowmancer during her absence, although Viola half hoped he’d be caught during a raid while she was off duty and that would be that. No more thinking of him and his odd habits and the way his cheeks had heated when he saw her naked, or the hardness of his chest under her palm. No more reading the book he’d given her and wondering at the message in it.
No more wracking her brain over why he’d spared her and murdered others.
A part of her thought about inventing a lead, some private source that had come to her in secret, and exploding the entire mountain range just to get it over with. But it didn’t seem fair, and Cordelia would be killed too. And Zazzy.
The needs of the many… a voice reminded her. But somehow, she just couldn’t convince herself that any action where they were killed to topple one shadowmancer could be the right one.
Perhaps he’d finally amassed enough wealth and wouldn’t be bothering anyone ever again. He’d lived quietly in the mountains for over a decade. Maybe he could go back to doing just that.
One afternoon, while Viola was poring over details in the Captain’s war room, the King came to see her, brandishing a bouquet of flowers.
“Windbright!” he said. “Good to see you out and about. Isabeau suggested I bring you these. ”
He handed over the bouquet of sage, azalea and verbena, no doubt grown by the royal floramancers especially for the occasion. Viola’s cheeks heated. It wasn’t customary for monarchs to hand out flowers to their knights.
“Oh, um, thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Jax!” he insisted. “No one’s watching. I just gave you flowers, Windbright! Surely that means we’re friends?”
Viola was fairly sure there was more to friendship than gift-giving, and she was equally sure that she couldn’t be friends with her king. “Jax,” she said softly, hoping no one could hear and that that was enough to satisfy him for the time being. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“We’ve just received word that the Shadowmancer was spotted in Florenwall last night. We think he’s accepted a hit on Count Alesto.”
Viola flinched, all hope she had of him quietly fading into obscurity or being taken out by someone else dissolving. Murder, too. Thievery she could maybe allow, but killing folk?
“What do we know about him?”
“The Count? He’s a former knight who married very well. His husband died a few years back.”
“Is that all?”
The King hesitated. “He’s suspected of running an underground smuggling ring—importing and exporting magical creatures.”
Viola cringed inwardly. It was never pleasant to hear of a former knight becoming corrupted. It irked her—and scared her. “Sounds like the Shadowmancer might be doing you a favour.”
Jax laughed. “Perhaps. Sadly, letting him get away with murdering a member of the nobility without even attempting to stop him doesn’t look right. We need to intervene.”
“When do you think he will strike?”
“Soon. I’ve already sent a warning to the Count. I’d like you to head out with a team—if you think you’re ready, of course.”
It would be easy to say she wasn’t yet fully healed, but Viola didn’t want to. Awkward as it would be to see him again under such circumstances, she’d have to at some point. She consented, had Blackberry readied, and headed out with a small team mere moments afterwards. No Freya, of course. Viola didn’t want to ask Heindrich how she was, but the unspoken question batted between them as they flew towards Count Alesto’s estate, up on the west coast outside of Bonehaven.
As they approached, a stillness settled over them. It was clear something was wrong long before they set down. Even from a distance, the destruction was evident. The gates of the estate lay in ruins, twisted metal scattered like broken bones. One corner of the manor had been sliced clean away, and all manner of exotic creatures stampeded through the grounds, their cries mingling in a cacophony of chaos.
Wild boars tore up the frozen flower beds, their tusks gleaming in the winter sun. A unicorn paraded in the fountain, its hooves striking sparks off the stone. Viola thought she even spotted a mermaid in the lake, her tail flashing in the icy water. A mermaid. Revulsion coiled inside her. He might as well have been trafficking humans.
“See to the mermaid and the rest of the creatures in the garden,” Viola instructed two of the knights as they approached. “The rest of you—with me.”
They set down on the icy grounds and proceeded immediately inside. Monkeys swung from chandeliers, their screeches echoing through the shattered halls. Griffins smashed the crystals with their talons, a rain of glass cascading down. A giant spider spun webs from the upper floor, its legs moving with eerie precision. Great chunks of furniture had been sliced through, the main staircase in pieces, its ornate bannisters shattered.
This wasn’t all the animals’ doing.
The lance stepped into the hallway, ducking a vase hurled in their direction. Viola was willing to bet more than a few trinkets were missing. Flameborn went to try and subdue a nearby rhino, but Viola shook her head. “Search for the staff first—make sure they’re safe. Stonehearth, Battleborn, check the upstairs.”
They split up. The staff were found locked in their quarters away from all the chaos. A few guards lay dead in the corridors, deep gashes across their chests, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. Viola and her people proceeded up to the next floor, treading cautiously. The silent shadows seemed to bite.
Finally, they reached the door to Alesto’s study. It was locked, but it didn’t take long to break it down.
Alesto’s body was slumped over his desk, his eyes staring blankly at nothing. His head had rolled some feet away, leaving a dark, congealing pool of blood. Pinned to the desk was a glossy black card swirled with silver writing.
Compliments of the Nightshade , it read.
Viola glared at the card, her hands trembling with rage. “Oh, you bastard.”