Chapter 5
“The Knife is expecting you,” the woman continued, already moving.
Riven barely had time to shoot her a narrowed glance before she swept down the corridor like she owned it. Efficient, unreadable, and clearly not interested in giving him a moment to think.
He followed, boots echoing behind her sharp strides. “Is this how things work in House Virellien? Everyone rushing around at breakneck speed like they’re so fucking important?”
She didn’t respond. Just turned down another corridor, this one quieter, the walls darker, hung with long silken banners stitched in silver. House Virellien’s crest glimmered faintly with every flicker of light.
She stopped in front of a black door and opened it without knocking. “Go in. Speak clearly. Don’t waste his time.”
Then she was gone, and Riven was alone in the doorway.
He stepped inside.
The room was spare and sleek—dark wood, leather, and glass. No unnecessary ornament, just a single long window overlooking the water and a low table with a folder resting dead center. Thane stood with his back to the door, hands clasped behind him, silhouetted in citylight.
“Sit,” Thane said without turning.
Riven raised a brow, but dropped into the only chair opposite the folder. “You’re not much for pleasantries, huh?”
“No,” Thane said, turning finally. His dark shirt was crisp, collar open, forearms bare. The lean muscle caught Riven’s eye for a half-second longer than it should have.
Riven looked away first.
Thane moved to the table, flipped the folder open, and slid it toward him. “There’s a leak in our western docks operation. Someone’s been moving contraband through our shipping lanes under another crest. We didn’t authorize the cargo, but we’re getting blamed for it.”
Riven leaned forward. Photos. A cargo manifest. Symbols he didn’t recognize. “What kind of contraband?”
“Altered Soulglass,” Thane said. “It’s been changed to be deadlier, more potent. Only a few instances.”
Riven’s brow furrowed. “You think someone’s testing this new formula? And hiding it under your banner?”
“That’s the theory.” Thane tapped the folder. “We’ve narrowed it to a shell company running through the Seam.”
Riven already knew that much, and he didn’t like it. Atlantis’s undercity was a network of clubs, back-alley auction houses, cursed vaults, and black-market brokers. Riven had done work there. Enough to know that a careless job could leave you hexed, hollowed, or dead.
“You want me to go in as what?” Riven asked. “A buyer?”
Thane shook his head. “A runner. They’re hiring outside talent to move the next shipment. You have the right kind of reputation, and you’re not a known Virellien asset.”
“So I’m expendable.”
“You’re useful,” Thane corrected. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
Riven snorted.
“You’ll make contact with a broker named Lareth at a place called The Ember Gate,” Thane continued.
“You’ll act like you’re hungry for coin and not picky about your employer.
The job is to get hired, find the cargo, and trace it back to whoever’s directing the movement. Do not touch it. Do not open it.”
Riven flipped through the photos again. Some showed marked crates in a dim warehouse, others outlined sigils scorched into wood. He didn’t like the way they pulsed. The shapes were wrong—older than they had any right to be.
“What happens if it’s not just cargo?” he asked. “What if it’s a message?”
Thane’s jaw ticked. “Then I need to know who it’s meant for.”
Riven sat back, studying the Knife of House Virellien. He didn’t look scared, but he looked ready to burn something down. That was worse.
“And what do I get out of this?” he asked slowly. “Besides the honor of serving your family.”
Thane smiled, sharp and humorless. “You mean besides keeping my family from gutting you and using your entrails in some obscure ceremony?” Riven’s smirk flickered, but he locked his jaw and leaned in. “You really know how to make a guy feel wanted.”
“I don’t need you to feel anything,” Thane said, straightening. “Just do your job. And don’t die.” His eyes darkened with something unreadable as he said, “This job should be well within your capabilities. After all, you grew up near the Seam.”
Riven stiffened, surprise snapping through him like a jolt. “How the hell do you know that?”
When Thane answered his voice was low and deliberate, tasting the words. “Curiosity. When I take someone under my roof, I learn everything worth knowing.”
Then he turned his back again, gaze fixed on the city’s glow.
Riven closed the folder and stood, trying not to be shaken by the Beast’s words. The research felt intimate in the worst sort of way. He supposed it was common sense. Why bring a potential threat into your home without knowing just where the danger was?
Riven didn’t speak as he left, but the scent of gunpowder clung to the papers in his hand.
And to the man who’d just handed him a fuse.