Chapter 3
A tired groan escapes me, eyes squinting as they open. Streaks of light stream through the arched windows just a little after dawn, and I realize that I forgot to close the drapes before flopping on the bed last night.
Running my hands over my breasts, I glance to find I’m still wearing the outfit from the brothel.
Another groan. My head is pounding and I throw an arm over my face to shield myself from the beams of light.
I arrived a few hours before sunrise, sauntering back to the castle drunk off wine, without Ezra.
I find myself wondering where he ended up.
Sitting upright, I rub my eyes and instinctively glance at the door, spotting the white envelope shoved under it. I grind my teeth, knowing exactly what it is as I climb out of bed and snatch it up.
The king’s golden seal rests in the center—another mission, and with as little information as possible. There are two rules to the missions we receive: eliminate the threat and ask nothing.
My target is to be taken care of tonight at the Silver Lily—an inn for high-ranking families from all over the realm, including wealthy merchants.
A place where they can conduct business and socialize without having to mingle with the common folk, making them feel superior.
But I scoff, knowing the real reason King Elion has the inn: to keep the elite in one centralized location where their movements can be observed and watched closely.
A private location, meaning I’ll have to find a way in.
Target: Alec Thorne.
For tonight only, and I’m to end the mission dirty.
And by dirty, I know he means bloody and not to find a place to bury or burn him like we typically do. He must be a high priority if it needs to be done on such short notice, as I’m usually given a few days to get it done. But not this one.
My eyes close on a long breath. Requests are being placed at an all-time high, seeming like Elion accepts all of them.
Of course it’s tonight, the one night I want to sneak back to the Painted Bird, but it looks like I’ll be occupied for the evening.
I bite my lip. Thinking back on the male last night has my stomach turning in the most exhilarating way. It’s almost tempting to stroll straight to the brothel instead, interested to discover what that male is like between my legs.
But I know how that would end—a beating handed out by Theron, King Elion’s personal guard.
Perhaps I can visit after eliminating my new target. I’ll be in the city after all. The thought runs through my head as I toss the order on the table.
After bathing and dressing with every weapon I own, I leave my quarters in search of Ezra, who’s most likely still sleeping.
The commons isn’t far, through the door just around the corner of my stairwell, separated from everyone else. It’s where the brethren meet with training just beyond the arena doors. If we don’t have missions, we’re responsible for training the new orphans.
When recruiting, the orphans are lined up and forced to hold two rune-inscribed stones to measure their magical capabilities.
If the runes glow brightly, they are full Aetheri, and if the runes stall but emit a faint glow, they’re a Halfling that possesses a sliver of magic.
It’s possible for Halflings to not possess any, but the king wants some magical capability, often discovered around the age of five.
The brotherhood is separated into three groups of ten based on our best skills: combat, tracking, and infiltration. We’re all skilled, but each brother has a specialty. Mine is disguise and infiltration.
The commons is large, easily holding all thirty of us, and is surrounded with tables and chairs. Similar to a tavern but less fun.
Boots scuff on stone as I walk toward the table of fresh food, my eyes landing on Malrik and Luke eating with a group of others before landing on Ren, who stands nearby.
“Morning, Ren.” I nod, grabbing a few pieces of fruit, not bothering to get myself utensils.
“Isa,” he grumbles back.
My brows rise, as he doesn’t typically acknowledge me. As a precaution for myself, I choose not to have relationships with many of the males here, though I do my best to be cordial toward them when I’m around… sometimes.
Ren is the exception.
A six-foot-six Stone Shaper with medium length black hair and a scar across his left brow—sliced at the tail. He wears linen around his wrists, and I have yet to figure out why.
He’s thirty-one and has been in the brotherhood a few years longer than me, becoming my instructor at only sixteen when I was ten. He looks the same as he did at twenty-eight though: tall, strong, and lean.
Now, he seems to hold a grudge against me—for what, I don’t know. I don’t particularly care, but I’ve learned to ignore him, and he hates that even more.
Though I can’t resist teasing him when the opportunity presents itself. And now, he seems to be in a rare enough mood to tolerate me, so it looks like I’ll be taking it upon myself to piss him off this morning.
“Strange that you’re talking to me today. Did you finally get another target, or are you just bored?” My voice drips with sarcasm, and I hear Malrik snort a laugh nearby.
I know Ren doesn’t typically get a lot of missions—not anymore, at least. I don’t know the reason for it because I haven’t cared enough to ask. I just figure King Elion withholds them or gives missions to the others.
His feet remain planted a foot away as he faces me, dropping his plate to the table. A sneer twists his face.
“How is it that someone so small can be so insufferable?” he asks.
“Am I though?” I chuckle, craning my neck to meet his glare, then drag my gaze over him, ending with a faint smile.
“I personally think you’re losing your edge, or maybe the king just feels sorry for you.
Keeping you around even though you’re aging out of usefulness.
How long has it been since you had a decent mission? ”
His jaw tightens, hands curling into fists at his side. For someone who always thinks he’s in control, he sure is easy to unravel. Then he lunges at me, but I dodge effortlessly.
“Oh, come on, Ren. Don’t be so predictable,” I taunt and step out of his reach. “You’re no fun when you’re angry.”
For a moment I think he’s going to try again. When he doesn’t, I throw him a final look over my shoulder and dart for the stairs, snagging some fruit off the table for Ezra. My pulse thrums—not from fear, but from the satisfaction of watching him seethe.
I reach Ezra’s door and knock. A minute passes, but he doesn’t answer, so I try the door only to find three runes preventing entry. I scribble on a temporary counter rune, feeling the magic warm at my fingertip as I infiltrate his chamber.
Counter runes are used to divert the energy away from the original ones and into the one that I write, effectively canceling it out.
This will allow me to gain access into any location for a short amount of time before it disappears, leaving the area protected once more, but they don’t require a lot of magic.
It takes all of five seconds for me to gain entrance and step in. He’s sprawled out with his face buried in the pillows—shirtless. At least he had the forethought to shut his curtains, unlike me, so I fling them open, earning a groan.
“Whoever the fuck is in my room better shut those before I kick your ass,” he mumbles groggily.
Looks like he stayed up late too. Ignoring him, I grin and rip the quilts from his grip, receiving a slew of curses.
“Ugh, I’m going to kill you,” he growls.
I snort. “I brought you food… well, fruit. You’ll have to get a plate of the fresh food downstairs. Be careful though. I pissed Ren off.”
“Great, just what we need for the day. A pissed-off Stone Shaper with a stick up his ass.” He chuckles, pushing himself up to greet me with a wide, teasing grin. I toss him an apple and sit.
“How was your night? Those blondes looked nice.” I wink just as he takes a bite of his apple.
He hums. “Much needed, but I found myself at a tavern after that. How was yours?”
“Ah, there’s so much to tell. Where do I start?” I grin, looking out the window. “I found Bess, but not before I met a new mysterious male in the hallway.”
He snorts, lifting a brow. “Was he any good?”
“He was… something,” is all I can say because I don’t know how else to explain it. Although he never touched me, he quite literally took my breath away. I found myself thinking about him the remainder of my time with Bess, eager for tonight.
“Oh,” Ezra says, his brows shooting up as he straightens. “He was really good, wasn’t he? Are you going back to see the courtesan?”
Courtesan. Ezra thinks he works there. A quiet laugh escapes me with a shake of my head, but then my smile quickly falters as I remember my orders from the king earlier. Another target slid right under my door just like every other week.
“I actually did want to go back tonight, but I got another target this morning.”
He stops chewing. “Another one?”
I nod. “King Elion gave me clear orders that it needs to be done tonight.”
He glances out the window. “He’s been keeping us busy these last few weeks.”
We’re both tired, having had multiple targets over the last few weeks, and tracking them has been exhausting and unusual.
Having these targets isn’t uncommon, but the number of targets we’ve had is.
It leaves me wondering who’s placing these requests or if it’s the king’s doing.
I silently thank the Fates that I know where my target will be tonight, so hopefully it will be a quick mission.
I nod, standing with a teasing grin. “Well, let’s get going. We need to spar because you need practice. You’re becoming slow.”
I turn for the door and almost make it to the knob when he chucks his apple at my head, forcing me to duck.
“Missed!” I laugh and wait in the hallway.
Ezra exits after a few minutes, buttoning the top of his tunic, paired with matching black pants. His hair is damp, and once his tunic is secure, he falls into step beside me. Our boots thud against the stairs as we descend into the commons, only stopping to eat before our intense training session.
We walk in silence and enter the arena, which opens into a huge sphere with an intricate glass ceiling that reminds me of the greenhouses the Herb Weavers work in. We’re immediately welcomed by warm air as the sun shines through the large windows above us.
A grin lines my mouth when I spot the weapons rack at the edge and stride over to grab my favorite—the staff. Simple but effective in taking down an opponent.
Ezra and I typically do morning training sessions, as they’re a requirement from the king to maintain our stealth and combat skills.
It’s noon by the time we take a break, our shirts thoroughly soaked as we drip with sweat.
My attention shifts to the arena doors when they creak open, spotting Ren and a few others striding toward us.
A sneer creeps up Ren’s face the moment he sees me, no doubt from our exchange earlier this morning.
After taking a drink out of my flask, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Taking my advice and training your endurance, Ren?” I nod to the arena just as Luke chuckles beside him.
“Don’t fight, Isa,” Luke says with a lazy grin. “If you land a blow, I’m afraid you’ll ruin his charming good looks.”
Ren instantly silences him with an icy glare. Luke is around Ezra’s height with short dark brown hair with bronzed skin, eyes a shade of amber. A Healer and the biggest gossip in the brotherhood. My eyes instinctively flick to the weapons strapped beneath his thick cloak.
“Don’t,” Ezra mutters to me.
Ren steps forward with a growl. “You sure do know how to push my buttons, don’t you?”
Luke and Malrik quickly shut their mouths once the other males stride to the weapons to begin their training, ignoring us, as they already know where this is going.
A grin tugs at my lips as I lean against my staff with my elbow, crossing my ankles.
“You make it too easy. You wear your emotions on your face,” I say, and his gray eyes flick over me before he huffs.
“Whatever. I have training to do, wench. Get out of my way.” He stalks past, boots thudding heavily against the floor.
“Mm, yes, you do. Go train like a good dog,” I mutter when he suddenly stops, slowly pivoting in my direction.
“What did you say?”
“I thought we were name calling,” I remark with a blank expression even though I fight the smile that’s begging to come out.
Before I can blink, he suddenly throws his right fist in my direction, and I dodge it with ease. Amusement glints in my eyes, and I smile.
“You missed, you slow bastard,” I say.
He throws another fist, leaving me to jolt to the right, kicking him hard in the hip. He stumbles back with a grunt. My punches may be hard, but my kicks are harder—he should know. He trained me.
Then Ezra steps in.
“She’s not worth the fight,” Ezra growls. “Let’s continue with training. We’ll be out of your way in a few min—”
“Let him fight me.” I point my staff at Ren. “He thinks he can win? Let’s fight.”
“Isa,” Ezra warns with another low growl.
“He’s right. You’re not worth it,” Ren snarls, sharply turning on his heel without another word.
I snort, facing Ezra. “You just ruined my fun, you know that?”
“What do you mean? I just saved you from an unnecessary fight. No need to use all your energy when you have a mission later,” Ezra says, taking my staff from me.
I shake my head and chuckle, grabbing my flask. “I hate it when you use logic, but I’ll see you later. I need to get ready for tonight.”
“Bye!” Ezra calls out just as I reach the doors.