CHAPTER 1 #2
Bront quickly resumes his lax position against the fence, as if he hadn’t been seconds away from an attempt to prove just how quickly he could outmaneuver me.
He hasn’t managed it for years, and I have serious doubts he would have been brave enough to actually split my lip, no matter the taunting that had preceded.
If the man is afraid of anyone on this side of the continent, it’s Leanna, and no one who ever met the woman would blame him for that.
“Good morning, Leanna,” Bront replies with a smile as he watches her approach, his eyes drifting up and down her form appreciatively.
Her dark eyes dilate like a large cat sizing up its prey. The man has balls, I’ll give him that. In the twenty years I have known the woman I have never seen her take a lover, though I suppose it is entirely possible she simply killed any who displeased her. That being every single one.
Leanna, my tutor, teacher, and tormentor, glides across the courtyard in a painfully graceful stride.
Her honey hair is striking against the fawn tone of her skin, tumbling down her back in unnatural spirals, strands here and there held back by small combs.
Her eyes burn with clear satisfaction at having found me here.
I’m not surprised to see her. She has the uncanny ability to know my mind, often long before I know it myself.
I hate the relief that washes over me that she hasn’t discovered me in the midst of a match with the old general.
She may have ended the man for leaving a single mark on my body today.
And, if I displease her, the woman is perfectly capable of inflicting her own kind of brutal punishment without leaving a single trace upon my skin.
“Getting your goodbyes out of the way?” she beams, halting by my side, before taking in my black leathers with a frown. “No need,” she says, flicking her wrist dismissively, “just follow my instructions and you will be back within the year.”
“As you say.” I dip my head slightly. It isn’t quite a bow, but life with Leanna is always easier when deference is supplied regularly.
“Come, Shivaria. Your ship leaves on the morning tide,” she says flatly, turning on her heel and making her way toward the keep without so much as a glance back.
A cold spike of fear runs down the length of my spine and my eyes meet Bront’s for what might be the last time, despite her reassurance. He smiles encouragingly, and I wonder how many soldiers he’s given that same smile to. Soldiers he had never seen again.
“Until we meet again, my lady. Courage and Strength.”
“Courage and Strength,” I repeat his motto numbly before rushing after Leanna.
“I was told my ship left on the evening tide?” I say as we make our way through the quiet stone halls of the keep.
“You know better than many that we take what fate provides and make the most of it. Conditions have changed and our plans must be adjusted accordingly,” she says simply, as if that explains anything. I know better than to press for answers.
My mind is a scattered mixture of violent dreams and visions of an equally violent future as I follow her back to my room.
She closes the door behind us and pulls the laces of my leathers until they loosen and fall to the floor.
Rounding me slowly, her gaze wanders across every inch of my ivory skin, eyes creasing with annoyance when she finds any imperfection.
She no longer comments on the pale slate grey of my eyes, or the raven spirals that speak of my unfortunate ancestry.
All flaws that I am well aware of but cannot remedy.
Only once when I was young did she speak approvingly of my full lips and shapely figure.
Though I’ve known enough Fea Dien without either who still brought men to their knees in a torrent of blood.
“No more of this,” she says, pulling my hair loose from the braid and smoothing it down my back. “Here, it may not be a desirable color, but you will care for and adorn it as if it were the color of the sun. Once you arrive in A’kori, it will be a boon to your cause.”
La’tari women are nothing if not vain, and as much as I’ve always seen my hair as a liability on the battlefield, Leanna always insisted that the benefit of its beauty far outweighs the potential risk it poses.
“As you say.”
She pulls a silk gown from my wardrobe; she’d had a handful of them crafted for my mission. The cost of each, I’m sure, could feed a large family for months. My stomach twists at the thought of it. Only if I am successful in my mission will the cost be worth it.
“Are you ready?” she asks.
“Yes.” It is the only answer to give her, true or not.
Since I was four years old Leanna raised me, training me to be exactly what she is, beautiful death.
For as long as I can remember I’d known that one day, when she considered me ready, I would receive my first mission in service of the crown.
For years I watched enviously while the Drakai who trained alongside me received their letters.
None were more equipped to fulfill any given task than I.
Some returned from their missions, many did not.
My letter came only days ago. Leanna handed it to me stoically, despite the king’s seal adorning it.
She had not asked me what it contained, I suppose she already knew.
Her question had been the same then, ‘Are you ready?’ But who is ever truly ready for a mission that requires ending the life of a king in a foreign land?
A feyn king no less, ancient and powerful.
“Good.” Leanna cups my face and kisses my forehead.
It is the gentlest, most unsettling thing she’s ever done.
“I always knew you were born to be a blessing to our people. Just remember where you come from.” She smooths my hair, her voice sweet.
“They will lie to you, use their gifts on you, try to sway you, attempt to convince you to turn on your own people and join with them. Don’t be weak.
Complete your task and come home. The day you return victorious is the first day of a new life on Terr, for all of us. ”
She looks me over one last time, unable to hide the full measure of her disapproval. “Go with death, child.”
I board a large ship waiting outside the keep, heavy-laden with cargo for trade, swaying upon the tide of the northeastern shore. Large planks of roughly milled lumber are stacked high on the main deck with small walkways between.
I run my hands along a large, rough-sawn board. It is all we have to trade, and with every shipment that crosses the sea our lumber becomes less valuable. We’ve over supplied every continent in Terr, harvesting our lumber as quickly as our groves are dying.
The captain is a short, plump man, nose and cheeks speckled pink from the harsh breeze of the open ocean.
He boasts a barrel of a stomach and a white, neatly trimmed beard contrasted by the deep red of his pressed uniform.
He ushers me below deck before the crew boards.
Every witness to my voyage across the sea is a risk and, despite my profession, I do want to live.
“If you should need anything, my lady,” the captain says, and points to a small rope by the door that undoubtedly rings a service bell.
The man leaves without another word, and I listen to the heavy fall of boots as his crew begins to board the ship above.
The room is large enough for a cot and table with a small wardrobe beside it, but little else.
I don’t need much, but I can’t help the dread that wells inside me when I consider the many days I will be confined here during the crossing, with no outlet for my demon.
I eye my flesh suspiciously when goosebumps spring up along my arms, and my gaze darts to the wardrobe standing opposite the door.
A small smile curves at the edge of my lips and my stomach dips as I take a step toward it, reaching for the handle.
Even before I open it, I know what I will find inside.
“Does Leanna think I needed a babysitter?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
The thin, wooden door swings open, revealing Vakesh leaning against the side lazily. I can’t recall ever seeing him without a simple pair of black leather pants, and a white tunic. Though many of those days had seen the white of his top stained and torn, he never seemed to mind.
A mischievous smile I haven’t seen in far too long breaks across his face.
Where it is not bound, the ends of his stark white hair brush against the umber skin of his strong jaw and his brown eyes sparkle, framed by faint, joyful lines.
Despite everything, I can’t help but return the smile he offers me.
“Leanna has every confidence in your abilities, but I have business of my own in A’kori, and I couldn’t help but stop in and see the lady perfection that Leanna created for his majesty.”
His eyes rake lazily across my form before he brushes past me and collapses onto my cot. Pushing one arm behind his head to support it, he produces an apple from the pocket of his tunic and tosses it into the air repeatedly, catching it with ease though his eyes never leave me.
“Lady perfection?” My mouth twists around the term distastefully.
“Don’t you like it? I named you myself.” His eyes glint as his smile grows.
Only Vakesh would think to hide all my flaws in a title claiming perfection.
“If anyone hears the title, it will certainly put them off my trail.” I give him that.
His eyebrows pinch together as he frowns.
“And? Does the master of shadows approve of Leanna’s creation?” I ask, unnecessarily smoothing the thin fabric of my gown.
“She might as well have sent you naked.” His eyes narrow on the fabric as if he is actually disapproving of the choice.
“Perhaps you should suggest that to her,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes and lowering my voice to a breathy whisper, “Though I hear that the males of A’kori do like to unwrap their gifts.”