Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
Lady of the Blood
The faint trio of stars rested on the horizon line.
The sun was blazing its way into the sky and Aoife guessed it was around six in the morning as she stood in Hallus kitchen, grabbing a mug out of the cupboard.
She wasn’t an expert at navigating time by the sun and stars, but she was getting better at it. Slowly. Not fast enough.
Nothing was happening fast enough.
Aoife mixed a bit of blue powder from one of Hallus’ canisters into the mug, adding water.
A specialty drink of Everglade, apparently.
It didn’t taste the least bit like coffee, but was a superior substitute if Aoife was being honest. It was made from a blue flower with rich, smoky notes and a sweet aftertaste.
“So.”
Aoife jumped at the sound of Hallus’ voice. He was leaning against the door frame behind her, hands in his pockets. The ice in his eyes seemed particularly frozen that morning.
“How’s the heist going?” he said.
Aoife gripped her mug so tightly she nearly broke it. Hallus knew exactly how the heist was going.
“Fine,” Aoife said. Lied. Hallus smirked. No doubt seeing the Shadow she’d made.
“Where’s your boyfriend this morning?”
“Out.” Talking to other Halcin, making schemes, trying to find them their saving grace. A saving grace they weren’t willing to admit might not exist.
“You know,” he said, “just because Shadach is doomed doesn’t mean you have to be.”
“Excuse me?” Aoife set the mug on the counter so she wouldn’t smother it.
Hallus came close. Very close. “I bet I could make you scream even louder than Shadach can.” When Aoife hesitated, he said, “The walls are very thin.”
Aoife stepped back. “I sincerely doubt you could make any woman scream, let alone me.”
“Come on,” Hallus grinned, “let’s give it a try. You know you want to. We can offer up Shadach to Aristen, he’ll give us a fortune, and then we’ll be richer than the God.”
“Yes. That’s what I want to do. Stab Shadach in the back and run away with you.” Aoife rolled her eyes clear to the back of her head. Hallus laughed.
“Well,” he said. “It’s refreshing to see you didn’t even take a moment to consider the offer.”
Did he really think she would? That she would betray Shadach after all they’d been through? Then again, he had no idea what they’d been through.
“But really,” Hallus said. “Are you just going to sit here all day while Shadach runs out the clock?”
Aoife stared at him blankly. One second ago he was telling her to run away with him and now he was chastising her for not helping enough? Whose side was he on?
“I’m not going to just sit here.” Aoife hated how defensive she sounded.
“Oh?” Hallus took a step back. “What are you going to do then?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? She’d tried the Selats and the bathhouses and had come up empty handed.
What else was there for her to do? They had maybe fifteen hours to pull off the grandest heist in Halcin history and she was out of ideas.
Aoife stood there, silent, her lack of an answer making Hallus’ eyes gleam.
“You know,” he said, “I find going to the source is usually the best option.”
“The source?”
“Lord Patin, of course.”
Aoife laughed, the air scathing in her throat. “I couldn’t get a halfway connected Selat to even look at me, and you think I can waltz into Lord Patin’s office?” She hated to admit the depth of her failure, but it was true. There was no point in pretending otherwise.
Hallus hesitated, the connivery in his eyes momentarily on pause. “What’s a waltz?”
“Walk,” Aoife said. “I meant ‘walk’ into Lord Patin’s office.”
“Right.” Hallus said the word carefully. Unbelieving. “Anyway. I can get you an audience with him.” There was no mockery in Hallus’ voice now, the cruel humour replaced by something else. Something more serious.
“You can get me access to Lord Patin?” Aoife tried to keep her tone respectful, but she feared it sounded just as mocking as his had a moment ago.
“It will cost me a good deal in resources and favours, but lucky for you, Lord Patin likes things that are rare. That red hair of yours will come in handy.”
That red hair she’d dyed black and would need to un-dye in a hurry.
“Why are you just now telling me this?” Aoife said, half with accusation and half with suspicion.
Hallus shrugged. “It wasn’t dire until now. But considering how many strings I’ll need to pull, it certainly won’t be free.”
Aoife’s chest tightened. “I don’t have money.”
“And I have plenty.” Hallus leaned against the wall, his body language casual but his gaze fierce.
“Lord Patin has a ring, gold, with a dragon showered in coins engraved on the surface. He keeps it in his private work chambers.” Hallus’ stare was so intense it made Aoife want to cower.
She fought to stand her ground. “I want it.”
“That’s it?” Aoife said. “A ring?”
“If you agree, I’ll have you in his presence within two hours.”
That fast? The cold gleam in Hallus’ eyes made Aoife think this must be a trap, but she couldn’t be certain.
After all, he had helped her before with the cloak and bringing Bremlin to the house so she could get money for the bathhouses.
Was it possible Hallus didn’t hold the grudge Shadach believed he did?
She needed to talk to Shadach. To ask him if he knew what Hallus was up to, but she didn’t have time to find him.
He could be anywhere in the city and they weren’t meant to rendezvous until midday.
By that time, she would need to be able to tell him something useful.
To give him a plan. Otherwise, they were really and truly doomed.
“What are you up to?” Aoife folded her arms in front of her, trying her best to be intimidating. She feared Hallus wasn’t intimidated by much.
“Up to?” Hallus put a hand to his mouth in a fake gasp. “How you insult me.”
“Why are you helping me?”
Hallus leaned against the kitchen counter, hands in his pockets. “Because I know you’ll fail, but if I can get Patin’s ring in the process of you failing then it’s worth helping you a little.”
Aoife wished she could see the creation of Shadows just then. Hallus seemed sincere enough and a self-serving motive made sense for him. Still. Aoife would have felt better if she could have talked to Shadach first.
There simply wasn’t time.
“Two hours until you can get me in to see Lord Patin?” Aoife picked her mug back up and took a sip.
“Give or take an hour.”
“Perfect. I’m going to see if I can find Shadach in the meantime, let him know the plan before I go.” Maybe she would get lucky and find him quickly.
“If you can find him in the next few minutes then fine,” Hallus shrugged, “but I’m not the only one who needs to prepare.”
“What do you mean?”
Hallus’ smile was warm, but his eyes were a frozen lake. “How would you like to be a Lady for a day?”
~*~
Day 3 - Afternoon
Lord Patin had set himself up as an emperor of Everglade City.
His extravagant home could be seen from anywhere in the city and despite being called the Elstein Towers, it was more of a castle with a pillar in each corner that reached to the heavens.
Lord Patin’s crest of a dragon showered in gold coins flew high above the castle.
Aoife sat in one of Lord Patin’s reception rooms, staring at his portrait on the wall, wondering if his playacting at being the emperor of Everglade City had caused problems with the actual Emperor when he’d been alive.
In the portrait, Lord Patin’s eyes were vicious, his smile as sharp as a knife’s edge.
Quite the contrast to the soft elegance of the sitting room.
Aoife sat on a plush lounge chair of lavender, a glass of untouched red wine in her hand.
Hallus had gotten her an audience with Lord Patin by claiming she was an heiress from the Fields of Blood: an exotic land that citizens of the Kingdom knew little about.
Apparently, her red hair made her a fitting citizen of the Fields of Blood.
Or at least, what people of the Kingdom thought a citizen of Blood must look like.
Standing, Aoife watched the wine slosh, her crimson shoes pressing into the soft rug beneath her feet.
Her gown of red and silver was borrowed from Hallus, as was her fine, and rather heavy, jewellery.
In the end, Aoife had not been able to find Shadach in time to discuss her plan with him.
She prayed she’d made the right choice and her recklessness would pay off.
Hallus had been sickeningly helpful once she had agreed to steal Lord Patin’s ring and Aoife’s stomach twisted every time she wondered for what purpose Hallus wanted that particular item. She tried not to wonder.
“Don’t be nervous,” Aoife’s escort, Aris, said.
He was a Selat on Hallus’ payroll who had travelled to the Fields of Blood on a few occasions.
Now, he was playing the part of Aoife’s guard and travelling companion.
He wore a tunic of deep sapphire and a sash with the symbol of the Fields of Blood embroidered on the shoulder: a stone with a knife pierced into it, blood dripping from the wound.
A sword hung at Aris’ waist. Officially, he wore the sword to deter bandits and vandals on the road to the Kingdom of Shadows.
Unofficially, he wore it to protect Aoife in case this all went sideways.
“You know,” Aoife said flatly, “telling somebody not to be nervous only makes them more nervous.”
“Then pretend not to be nervous,” he said. His eyes were a brilliant blue, his gaze snapping about the room like he expected danger around every corner. Aoife wondered if he used to be a soldier or if this was a symptom of living among people like Hallus.
“Aoife,” a man said from behind her. Aoife flinched. They had decided to use her real name for this little deception, because it sounded exotic enough as it was. She suddenly wished they hadn’t. Her name on his tongue sounded the way Aoife imagined cyanide tasted.