Chapter 6
With my lucky coin in my pocket, I arrive at the stables to find Ezra gathering the packs and adjusting the saddle on his horse, Freya, a gray mare with a silver mane. I rub the side of her face and watch as he ties off the saddle from underneath, cinching it at the waist.
Mulling over our conversation with the king and everything that happened this morning, I can’t bear the thought of making a mistake. It’s not in my nature to overlook details like accidentally killing the wrong person and not my target, which I swear I did.
Maybe the king is right—I am too comfortable. I rub my wrist, an effort to bury my emotions, but they’ve been surfacing a lot recently. The feeling of being lost and alone, like there’s more to life than mindlessly killing.
Yet my pulse climbs to my temples, the pressure building behind my eyes and forcing me to close them with a deep breath. I hate feeling out of control, and worse, I hate being a failure.
“Isa,” Ezra calls out. My eyes fly open, catching him staring at me. “Are you okay? I said your name three times.” He reaches for me but catches himself, lowering his hand with a conflicted expression.
We kill for the king, so showing any emotion other than cold indifference is something we all struggle with. He’s better than he used to be though. It took me almost a full year to get him to smile at one of my awful jokes, but I’m glad that I’m the one who gets to see that side of him.
“I’m fine,” I say with a tight smile. “Let’s get going.”
“Okay, your saddle is hanging on the stall over there.” He gestures over his shoulder to where Bjorn stands. “Bjorn is ready to go. He just needs to be saddled.”
I approach my horse and gently rub his face. “Fates, you’re beautiful.”
And massive, around sixteen hands and ebony in color—dark and rich as a blackened sky.
The Aetheri Fae can speak with animals as a part of being a light Fae, the ability to form deep connections.
But I have yet to feel that connection with any animal, assuming it’s due to my magic not being strong enough.
Unlike me, Ezra can speak to them and understand what they want.
With quiet strides down the length of Bjorn, I run my hand down his side.
“Do you think we’ll find anything at the inn?” I ask Ezra while checking Bjorn’s form and coat, ensuring he’s in the best condition for our travels in case we need to track Alec outside of the city. Which is likely.
“I’m not sure. I’m hoping Helga can offer us more information.”
“I know I killed him. I watched him crumple to the ground, choking on his own blood.” I face him with my arms crossed.
He walks over, intently scanning my face. “I believe you.”
“Do you? Because the last time I checked, you can’t exactly survive a plunge to the heart, but I watched him bleed out. I even checked his pulse.” My hand casually pats Bjorn’s shoulder.
Ezra walks back to Freya, looking over his shoulder. “We’ll find answers, I promise. I wouldn’t think much of it. It’s already almost noon, and we need to get to the city.”
With a hesitant nod, I heed Ezra’s advice and walk toward Bjorn’s saddle. The creaking of the stable doors near the back forces my head to whip up just as Ren walks through with a shit-eating grin.
“What are you doing here? On a mission?” Ezra asks casually, throwing me a sideways glance.
“Yeah, yours.” Ren crosses his arms, directing his smile in my direction. Ezra and I straighten, halting our tasks.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Ren grabs another saddle to mount on a third horse. “King Elion has ordered me to accompany you on your journey to ensure it gets done. I’ll be there every step of the way.” He’s wearing a full grin now.
Gods, I hate him. Not only did I piss him off yesterday, he knows that I failed my mission and is set to accompany us.
“Great, a watchdog,” I mutter.
He only chuckles, the sound low and dark as he cinches the saddle on his horse, clearly not falling for my trap like yesterday. The king sent someone to keep an eye on me as a warning. Though I thought that was what Ezra was for, I guess I was wrong.
I throw Ezra a wary glance as Ren finishes up, and we share the same concerned expression because what the fuck?
Mentally throwing a slew of curses around in my head, I finally grab my pack to secure it to the saddle and mount Bjorn.
“You ready?” I ask and pat myself, ensuring all my weapons are where they need to be—daggers, short swords, and a bow at my thighs, waist, and back. The weapons are familiar beneath my fingers.
Ren mounts his horse with another menacing grin, and I catch the way his brow quirks at me as he settles into the saddle. My teeth grind as I face Ezra.
Ezra nods. “First stop is the Silver Lily. We need to know what happened last night.”
Driving their heels into the horses, they both exit the stables and take off into a gallop. Doing the same, I’m not too far behind, going at a steady trot, heading for Alvonia.
Approaching the city doesn’t take long as we come to a slow gait on the cobblestone. The Silver Lily sits just north of entering.
Locals enter a market to our right, lining the road in such a way that we need to squeeze our horses through, their hooves beating against the stone.
It’s clear that some are visitors while the others seem to be selling off items from their crops.
Animals, food, drinks, and handcrafted items are surrounding the area, filling the needs of everyone in the city.
I’ve come to realize that I’ve never actually been in the city during the day. Most of my missions are done at night when there aren’t many people around.
Fae and humans barter, laugh, and haggle gold in the heat while children chase goats.
On my right, couples dance to the music that spills in from the square.
I look down, finding merchants holding out intricate pendants as we ride by.
The bustle of the city makes me realize how much I didn’t know existed—how much people are enjoying each other’s company.
“Do you see something you like?” Ezra grins, catching my attention. Ren rides behind us as we take the lead.
“No.” I shift my gaze to Ezra on my left. “I just never realized they did stuff like this. Is it a market?” Ren stiffens out of the corner of my eye, surely annoyed that I began speaking, but Ezra’s brow arches.
“Yes. It’s the Fae market. They do it every week to offer leftover food from their crops after their weekly tithe to the castle. Animals and clothing are also offered to trade,” Ezra says.
“I like it,” I mumble, watching children run by. But after a moment, I pull my hood up to block out the afternoon sun and Ezra’s inquisitive glances. Midday in late summer is always unbearable this time of year, but winter quickly approaches.
“We don’t go out much during the day,” Ezra says after a couple of minutes. “We should though. If we have time later, maybe we can come back.”
He must feel bad if he’s offering to take me to the local market, but I hold back a mocking scoff and nod.
“If we have time. The mission comes first,” I say and trot ahead.
After arriving at the inn, we tie the horses and reach the door, Ezra knocking. Helga answers with broken sobs, her face puffy from grief.
Yet I can’t help but not feel guilty.
I feel guilty for failing my mission and taking a mother away from her son, but not for his death. He was the type of male that hurt others, and I have a feeling I wasn’t the first.
“Helga,” Ezra says. “We were notified about the incident last night, here to investigate what happened, by order of the king. May we come in?”
I glance at him. He’s formal, wearing a composed mask just like mine to gain information. She sniffles and eases the door open while Ren stays behind, checking for evidence of the target leaving.
Helga doesn’t know what happens with the information that she gives to the king.
All she knows is that whatever she gives, she gets paid for it.
She has no recollection as to who we are other than we are the king’s royal guards, here to investigate.
She doesn’t even know that I was here last night, having snuck in when the Silver Lily was practically empty.
Coming into the inn, I recall the desk is to the right of entering, where I retrieved the information on Alec’s room.
“May I look at your ledger to see if anyone of importance came at the same time your son was killed?” I touch her arm, and she nods, still crying.
Ezra privately escorts her down the hall as I go through the rooms again, looking through the heavy book while I hold my lucky coin. I wasn’t mistaken. Alec was here last night, and he even signed out? That can’t be accurate.
I glance up to find Ezra still chatting with Helga, her frantic whispers echoing in the air, nervously glancing around. “If conversing with the king puts my family in danger, I am not sure I can continue giving away information about my guests!”
Hearing no more of her argument, I walk to Alec’s previous room. After stepping inside, I stop at the back wall where he died and crouch to find that there isn’t a single drop of blood—just like King Elion said. My brows knit.
“I told you that you’d regret it.”
I gasp, my head snapping up. That was… strange.
The words echoed in my head as if they were my own thoughts, yet that voice wasn’t mine. I glance around, searching for anyone in the area, but no one else is here but me.
“I’m going insane,” I mutter to myself and search the room.
I step toward the table near the window.
Faint scratch marks are etched on the surface, looking as if something was written.
Opening the drawers, I move things around.
The subtle clatter of items breaks the silence while I try to find parchment and charcoal to write with.
Then I pull out a black jeweled mask—my mask from the brothel.