Chapter 3
Sariem. The City of the King.
Only years after I fled my father’s house did the walls erupt from the ground—a fierce display of his might. He was no fool, my father.
The king was wise and charming when the situation demanded. By fortifying friendships, men and women of power aided in his claim over the lands.
Each map marked his stamp, the seas rolled with the tide of his command, and literature praised his ever-glorious name—
Long live King Paden Torrance.
Dusk had not met the lands.
The Andraelian sun rose, though the walls did not shed a shadow.
The dark of morning merely lingered beyond the city and to the wood at our backs—an endless encasement of obscurity where the colors of autumn faded.
Orange was traded for clay, golds for umber, and a loose twisting of faded shades simmering in grey.
I looked back at Taison again.
As time passed, the mark of the Bloodletter faded—his eyes encased in soft yellows, the red washed away.
I did not—could not—rest in the saddle last night, not as those burning red eyes watched my every move. Taison left me uneasy.
Carnage seemed like a tick. A slight trigger, and Taison would be engrossed by his god, laying waste to lives. I’d seen it before. One day, a man looked at him sideways, so Taison made sure red eyes were the last sight that man would ever see.
Vera was there. She watched. And she still loved him.
We approached the city gates to the line of silver guards and torches. I hid my gown’s fine threadwork beneath my cloak.
“Halt,” the guard bellowed.
“What is your business?”
“We have traveled far and are in need of food,” I said.
“We live to praise his majesty.” My stomach churned at my last sentiment, though these were dangerous days. Empty praise was a fair trade for my life.
“Where do you come from?” The guard asked.
“A small village in the east. Our crops wither, and we need food.”
“Papers.” He lifted his hand, but I kept mine neatly tucked, fighting the glare I wanted to send at Vera.
“No papers, eh? Well, miss, this is no city built on charity, and you won’t find spare bread amongst the hungry. You may as well go home and starve with your family.”
“We have traveled far,” I argued.
“Please, we have friends in the city, and they will care for us.” His glare sharpened, so I motioned to Vera and Taison.
“This is my sister and her husband, and we—”
“No.” His boot struck the ground, the guard pivoting closer to show me the fire glow in his eyes.
“Go back to where you came from. This city doesn’t have enough room for our own.”
“But—”
“No papers, no entry.”
I didn’t have the forged papers claiming we were Sariem-born. Vera tore them to shreds when she and Taison fought over what people were best suited as God Servers—the well-trained people of Sariem or the pitiful villages of the east, as Taison called them. Vera’s pride sent her ripping our documents into irreparable pieces.
Taison stepped towards the guard, fists clenched, and a rush of cold blood pulsed in my heart. No Carnage. Not here. Not now.
Deceit crouched like a beast hidden in the brush, seeping magic into my mind.
I reach out to the god and sent the channel of his powers over my tongue, my words. The air in me soured, becoming dense with godly magic. When I opened my mouth, I spoke a spell of deception.
“You wish to let us through, sir,” I said, and watery glass immediately coated the guard’s eyes. I demanded once more.
“Let us pass.” Head lowered in a trance, his helmet nearly slipped off.
“Let us into the city,” I hushed.
The guard came to in an instant and straightened in a quick breath.
“You may enter,” he said, then showed us his back.
“Open the gate!”
The gears shifted in a loud discord of iron grinding iron—a grand welcome to all those who dare question the fortitude of Sariem’s walls. To me, this gate remained a presage. A reminder that, once again, I neared the castle of my father, venturing to the Guild of the Gods that conspired beneath his flaring nostrils.
Vera whispered behind.
“I do love it when she introduces you as my husband.”
Taison sighed.
“These days are not days for marriage.”
I set four coins within the stableman’s hands, and Taison and I offered the reins of our steeds and set our sights before the city. Haggling chimed against the stones, shops and markets begging for trade.
We trudged upward, Sariem built on a hill, and the city towered like a giant that aimed to flatten us beneath its feet. In days of light, the marble and stone were astonishing, ceasing my breath. These days, the city was as grim as the wood.
Dull tapestries strung from one stall to the next where goods sat on display—breads, jewels, steel, wines. Vera swung herself to a floral booth, sniffing a bouquet of yellow avens and paying no mind to the merchant claiming she was the most beautiful in all the lands.
“Taison, love.” Vera showed her blooming eyes, avens in hand. When Taison huffed and crossed his arms, she pouted her plump lips.
“You don’t ever buy me nice things. Thomas gave me all the riches I asked for, but I’m not asking for much. Just a little trinket.”
Taison took the avens from her, the small blossoms looking entirely misplaced in his burly hands. He crumpled them between his fingers.
“And I bet that boy had to buy you rubbish, because he couldn’t figure out how to satisfy your other needs.”
That lustful look in his eyes sent my skin crawling.
Vera giggled with a scrunching nose and tossed herself back into the streets.
“Aye! You need to pay for that!” The merchant shouted, pointing at the damaged petals on the ground.
Taison squared his shoulders, mouth thin, and his hand twitched beside his blade.
My heart skipped, and I threw myself between the two, reaching into my pocket for loose change and placing it on the stall.
“Apologies for that, sir. We’ll be on our way.” I glared at Taison and shoved him down the street.
He growled, feral, low, and ready to kill, so I shoved him again.
“They are just lovely,” Vera said, her freckled nose kissing a dozen avens.
“Vera, when did you—?” I cut myself off. Vera had sly hands, and a bouquet was one of the less valuable things I’d seen her steal.
We weaved through Sariem’s streets, ignoring merchants, shoving through crowds, and pivoting around the houseless with their outstretched hands. We weren’t off to the guild yet. First, we’d take a needed moment at the pub—a tradition for us three—before the Head of the Guild would give us the next name to strike down. The list of names was an ever-growing beast that grew two heads for every one we cut off.
A yawn broke past the gate of my teeth.
These hours were early, and this morning felt like a continuation of a dreadful night—a dreadful night I was desperate to drown in mead and potatoes. The air nipped at my cheeks, and my hands rubbed together for warmth. I did not envy Vera nestling into Taison—I could not imagine a surplus of heat pulsing from his dead heart—though I would appreciate sharing warmth with someone.
My nose tingled to the smells of savor and brew, and Taison nearly threw the pub door off its hinges.
We stepped beneath the threshold, trading the stone streets for wooden planks that groaned louder than my belly. Torches lit the perimeter in warm light, snagging on the aged wood of the walls. It was quiet here, dozing patrons seeming to be those who had been unable to stumble themselves home the night before.
Vera and Taison did not say their goodbyes, rushing down the hall to private quarters. I did not mind. I knew what such a farewell implied, and I far preferred they simply disappear.
Climbing to my usual spot on the barman’s stool, I slouched in the seat and set my head in my hands, elbows stabbing the counter. Before I needed to speak, the bartender set a tall pint of bubbling brew before me.
“Long night, miss?” His beard nearly dunked into the mug.
I grabbed the handle, took a swig, and downed half the drink before I took my next breath.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
The barman’s lips quirked.
“Aye, with the line of work I’m in, I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”
I spoke flat with fingers spiraling the rim of the mug.
“I poisoned a man last night.”
“Is that all?”
I took another swig, cool down my throat.
“Then I was attacked on the road, nearly killed, and discovered someone I do not know aims to take my life.”
He shrugged.
“Could be worse, lass. You could be dead.”
I tipped my mug towards him.
“Death might be favored over this.”
“Nothin’ worse than an empty mug. Couple more meads, and you’ll have your head on straight again.”
“Anything is worth a try,” I said with a wink, and my emptied cup was swiftly refilled.
“You poisoned a man?” A stranger asked with eyes fixed ahead. The light did not spare his features. He looked like a black figure against the roaring hearth.
“What does it matter to you?” I asked, biting harsher than intended.
He was calm, collected.
“You only do not seem the poisoning type.”
“Appearances bear no weight.”
He laughed, low and terse.
“You needn’t tell me such. I am only intrigued. A young woman does not often have intentions of being a killer, especially in such finery as the gown you are wearing.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek.
“I am no killer.”
Keeping his eyes sworn ahead, he drank his drink then asked.
“And yet you poisoned a man? Would you consider those two notions unrelated?”
“A young woman does often have intentions of surviving, stranger. If you’d please, I am trying to enjoy a quiet moment.”
The man angled towards me, his shallow cheeks concealed from the flames.
I surveyed him from dark hair to scuffed boots, fresh from his own escapades. Though it was the fine tailoring of his black jacket that held my gaze, an intricate stitching that continued to his pants. Not even the shadows could deny that this man was of wealth. The very type I am to weaken.
He met my glare with his own, soft light marking his furrowed brows, though his eyes were locked in shadow.
“Be careful who you lessen for your survival. Enemies are easy to come by these days.” The barstool screeched as he rose, and he looked down at me from the bridge of his nose.
“Though, if someone truly wants you dead, it appears you have already made enemies.” And he left.
I looked back at the mead then burrowed my face in my palms.
Deceit simmered, tsking his tongue. You are a disappointing partaker of deception, my dear. Too many lies, no one will believe. Speak too freely, and your head will follow.
I sat there for some time as people came and went, drinking and eating.
The clock tolled a new hour.
I waited for Vera and Taison with lessening patience. The pub became a commotion—hordes either laughing or arguing, gestures sending mead to puddle upon the ground. Chickens roasted over fires, potatoes sizzled on iron. Lutes joined, reminding me of the night before—how Percy’s hand was warm around mine, his touch at my back, and the way his lips would softly graze my neck.
I wiped a tear from my face, furious that it had fallen at all.
The tower of wine, the dancing, the jovial innocence—it already seemed like a faded memory. The moments of conspiring felt lost, too. Distant. Percy and his father, Lord Morrigan Calhourn, spitting quips about the distasteful creatures with pointy ears. I did not miss how my skin would stretch into the fat man Percy sought counsel from, and I hated the delirious words I uttered to stay alive. Perhaps Percy did need to die, but the fond memories were the ones that left my heart fractured.
“Would you care to dance, miss?” A slurring of words fumbled at my back.
I turned, and there stood a short man past twice my age. His cheeks were round and outlined by wrinkles, his nose a button, and his eyes seeped a light I hadn’t seen in some time.
I rose and smiled sweetly, dismissing my soul’s unrest, and accepted his hand.
“I would love to.”
His beaming smile showed yellowed teeth, putting a shard of delight in my heart.
Our fingers laced together, and his rounded belly kept me at a distance. We danced, the room spinning and whirling as genuine laughter boasted from my lungs. It was all the more refreshing as the older man laughed beside me. The lutes rose in cadence, our feet stomping frantically on beat. The surrounding people joined, mead and dance overflowing in celebration of nothing. Nothing but a sliver of life in a dying realm.
At the end of another song, I fell into a nearby chair, my chest rising and lowering wildly. My braid had come undone songs ago, the dark brown strands sticking to my face in sweat. I smeared them away and noticed the man from the bar sitting in the corner. Watching me. I squinted, trying to make out his features, but the flames only showed a twitch of his lips.
The old man neared and lifted his hat, pulling my attention.
“You are a lovely dancer, miss,” he said between panting breaths.
“The honor is mine. I had a difficult time keeping up with you.”
His pink cheeks turned red.
“I must say, I am flattered you accepted. You are the first I’ve danced with since my wife passed to the Ever—.” He cut himself short, hands turned to fists, eyes big.
Everlaides, he was about to say. The afterlife, where the gods dwelled and welcomed their people deemed worthy. From what Deceit conveyed, not many passed on to the Everlaides in these days, and it was a place considered traitorous to speak of beneath the Torrance Crown.
I stood and bent, so my lips met his forehead. With a soft kiss, I bid my goodbye.
“Any woman is lucky to have danced with you. Thank you for the fun. I was in desperate need.”
He unballed his fists and took a breath.
“Then I suppose we helped each other this day.” He walked away a happy man.
Catching sight of Vera and Taison, I neared them beside the hearth and waited for them to make room on the couch. But no, Taison just gulped brew, and Vera dug herself further between his arm and ribs, stroking his side.
With an eyeroll and a huff, I lifted Vera’s ankles from the couch, tossed them aside—she cursed at me—and fell into the cushions.
I drew a long breath.
“You seemed to be having a good laugh out there.” Vera’s voice was smooth as though she had found release with her lover.
My nose twitched. I remember my laughter once being fuller. Blameless. Anymore, it needed to echo in the hollow tomb beneath my sternum before breaking past the barrier of my throat. Joy was shallow.
“Would you ever trade your gifts if it meant living in lighter days?” I asked.
Her gaze hardened.
“No,” she said.
“I hardly recall the light of the goddess, and to be bestowed favor from a god…” Her hands juggled empty air, weighing options. “The nights are long, yes, but I’d say I am still blessed.”
Taison scoffed beside her.
“Blessed? You kiss the lips of foul men, and you’d prefer that over the light?”
I sent a needle with my words.
“Says the man gifted with undying strength. What is it, Taison? Feeling jealous?”
“Hardly,” he grunted, his neck tightening.
“She can kiss whoever she damn well pleases. Because I know, in the end, it is my lips she thirsts for.”
Vera fell into his body with, indeed, thirsting lips.
“We need to report back,” I said, but I was answered with the sound of sucking lips.
“Vera, Taison.” Sucking lips. So, I stood again to be with the barkeep, the couch suddenly not so welcoming.
Vera grabbed my wrist.
“Get me some brew, love?”
I yanked my arm back, simply tired of feeling a thousand things and thinking a thousand thoughts. I approached the bar, willingly forgetting Vera’s request, sat down, and pressed my palms against my eyelids to wipe away exhaustion. It didn’t work, but the whispers at my side heightened my attention, taking my eyes.
The unlit corner spoke, hushed voices doused in tension.
Deceit tensed, keen. Curious. An infallible indication I might benefit from a bit of eavesdropping.
Deceit, are you able to help me hear them?
The god tapped his nails along my skull. My powers cannot extend beyond the fabric of your skin. But, if you’d like to try, you may only be goaded towards perpetual madness.
I won’t take my chances. I studied the dark as I asked, Have you ever inflicted madness?
Only on purpose, child. His laughter coiled through my thoughts. Do you recall the face of the old soul you danced with?
I looked down at my clothes. The old man was not wearing a gown.
There are many quarters here where people have shed themselves of clothing. Please, child, be cunning, Deceit pleaded. Think.
Guided by the god’s demands, I crept to the halls with fingers brushing along the doorknobs, testing for give. My steps were silent amidst the pleasured moans seeping into the hall. After several locked knobs, one had misplaced diligence. The knob twisted, the door opened. Tired light poured into the hallway, frantic breaths following. I kept my gaze down, though the fringe of my sight was without remorse—two bodies flapped like splashing water.
My presence was either ignored or unnoticed. I stole trousers and an old tunic, left them to their business, and hurried down the hall to the staff’s empty closet.
Digging through faces in my mind, I unburied the old man and let his image encompass my thoughts.
Then, I burned.
My stomach stretched and my bones condensed while my cheeks rounded and my nose shortened. Hairs released from my scalp, the strands fluttering to the ground before dissolving like ash. I found my reflection in a basin’s filthy water. Something of my appearance was flawed, I could tell. I could not place it exactly, but it did not matter. Eavesdropping only required that I not look like myself. Imperfection would do.
Waddling to Vera, she lifted her palm to me.
“Vera.” My voice was not my own.
“Go away, old man.”
I lengthened my stout arms and dropped my dress on her lap.
“Hold onto my gown.”
She lifted my gown, raising her brows.
“Gods, Rhoswen, do you ever stop?”
I left before her glower could meet my eyes.
Threading through dancers swept up in a chorus, I set myself beside a corner where light diminished, and the bar was to my back. Words slipped through the slit of a splintering door, and I nestled out of sight beside the hinges.
A man spoke, tense.
“Your house remains at risk, my lord.”
“My house is as strong as it has ever been.” The words came seething.
“Tell me, Cedric, do you have doubts about me? Do you believe I will fail in continuing my father’s dynasty?”
“My lord, I do not question your integrity, rather the integrity of those you keep.” Cedric said quickly.
“Someone is playing games beneath your roof—a server to the gods.”
A strike, a fist slamming. Sheer silence.
The lord’s whisper was laid in threat.
“And you are tasked with bringing me the name. You have been claiming there is a traitor in my company for weeks now, and you have no idea who it is. I am beginning to doubt you.”
“The name is forthcoming, my lord. I swear this.”
“I’ve heard your lies before, and I am becoming sick of them.”
“And what would you have me do?” Cedric’s voice carried a smack of irritation.
“We do not know where the guild meets, and we do not have names. The Chosen are wise, my lord, wise as the gods.”
“But they are not gods!” He yelled, and I nearly ran from his rage.
“They are still men, foolish and flawed, no matter who blesses them!”
He isn’t wrong, Deceit uttered as he bore into my eyes.
A long sigh dispelled.
“My lord, there is another reason I have called for you before you return home.” A pause.
“Sir Percival is dead.”
I choked on the air.
The lord’s voice cracked.
“What? Dead? How?”
“He was killed last night by an assassin, believed to be a member of the guild.”
Glass shattered.
“No, he cannot be dead!”
“I know what he meant to you, my lord. And I know his death comes at a time of mourning. I am sorry.”
The lord’s voice carried malice.
“You will find the man who walks my halls in service to the gods. If my blade does not find their heart soon, yours will do.”
Wood slats creaked beneath footsteps.
My heart buckled.
I turned to leave. Before I could gain a step, the door flew open, and I was thrown against the wall. A blade pressed against my throat, stealing my breath. Commotion was unbroken around me, no one coming to my aid.
“Who are you?” He breathed.
I looked to the man from the bar—this lord, as Cedric had called him. Body concealed in the shadows, his ensemble of black melded into the background. Speed and strength were shown in his command as I was held captive—imprisoned between his forearm and wood.
I retreated to my mind, sharpening my concentration on the old man’s features to uphold my visage. I imagined his yellow smile, his pudgy hand, the gleam in his eyes.
I forgot the steel on my throat until it burrowed into my skin.
My stomach tensed in pain, but I held onto the mask. Slurring, I spoke in deception.
“You wouldn’t cut down an ol’ man like myself, would you?”
“Who are you?” The lord asked again, brows tensing as promises of death strung in his eyes.
I thought of Percy to uproot a tear from my eye—the old man’s eye.
“My wife died a couple weeks passed, and I’m only trying to move on.” My breath wheezed beneath the sharp edge of the dagger.
“Have you ever lost love, my friend?”
The blade withdrew, slowly enough, I thought this lord was reluctant not to kill me. He tore his arm from my chest, and I took a sharp breath. He scoffed, head tilting back, seeming to judge me guilty of nothing but drunkenness. He backed away as I rubbed my fat neck.
Sheathing the dagger, the lord left the pub without a final glance.
Cedric followed behind.
The taste of death left me shivering. Deceit’s magic waned, my concentration spent. Slipping into the dark, I laid down the mask, and my skin snapped back to my skull. My spine was held up by the wall as I fell into a dizzy spell.
Deceit pierced my mind, nails sharp like the dagger that was at my neck.
Please, do not say anything, I begged.
What is it you do not wish to hear? He carped. How you nearly died again? My patience with you is becoming thin.
I peeled from the wall and looked to the pub for Vera while uttering to the dark, You have said as much for years.
Time ought to make you cunning, Rhoswen. You are learning nothing.
Perhaps you’re simply a poor teacher.
I shouldn’t have said that. I’d felt enough pain this day, and I should have kept my thoughts quiet. Despite my regret, Deceit sent ten shards into my mind and wrenched his tail around my spine. I lost my footing and tripped, tumbling into Vera.
“Sands, sister, what happened to you?” Vera held me.
“Too much mead,” I lied, standing upright and taking my gown from her hands. Swatting at the god, Deceit only coiled into the corner with a menacing laugh.
“Come on, we need to report to the guild.”
I latched Vera’s arm, Taison behind, and dragged us past the drunken patrons, guiding us to Sariem’s brothel—a brothel regarded as the most distinguished in all of Andrael. A place where ravenous lust met ravishing pleasure.
And it was all created in praise to the gods.