Chapter 18
It’s just before dawn by the time I wake, tangled in my sheets. Even though I crawled into bed a little late, I feel rested. Cold winter air brushes against my skin, forcing me to roll over, eyes peeling open.
“Fates!” I call out, jolting upright. Ire perches on one of the settees. “What are you doing here?”
“King Rydian has ordered me to watch over you.”
“And that requires you to be in my room?” I look over, realizing I left the window propped open last night, leaving the room incredibly chilly.
“Yes,” he replies. “Unless you meet with him. Then I won’t need to be here.” His voice drips sarcasm.
“Who knew birds had sarcasm?” I mutter.
“I have a lot of things, but patience isn’t one of them,” he quips, and I groan.
“Well, it looks like you and the king have a lot in common then,” I mutter.
It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve arrived back at the castle, so I guess it’s time I meet with him. But how exactly am I going to leave the castle without raising suspicion?
I haven’t had a mission since I’ve been back, but someone is bound to look for me the moment I leave. Ezra got a mission shortly after our hunting trip and should be back by now, but I haven’t checked.
Unfortunately, I believe Ren’s purposely holding out on giving me missions now that he’s captain. Not that I mind after finding out what the king had me doing for so long, but it does concern me—waking up to find nothing shoved under my door after weeks of getting missions back-to-back.
“I’ll see if I can meet with him today. Hold on.” I fling the quilts off, quickly writing another note before handing it off.
I watch as Ire exits through the middle window, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts. The anticipation of seeing Rydian causes my pulse to race. I expect a quick response, but after a few minutes, nothing comes through.
It’s strange how my stomach tightens at the thought of him, something I can’t seem to easily shake.
And here I thought putting space between us would help mend these unexpected feelings, yet here I am, realizing that it might’ve just made it worse.
He stirs something in me that feels both exhilarating and terrifying, and I’m not sure I like it.
Why does he affect me this way when he’s no different than any other male I’ve been around? Why does he seem to throw me off so easily?
My heart races, a part of me craving connection with someone, yet fear grips my chest, and I’m not sure he’s what I need right now. Not when my mother could be alive, currently missing.
How do I search for someone I didn’t even know existed until a few weeks ago? What happens if I find her—dead or alive? I chew my lip, too afraid to answer that.
Unaware of how I’ve zoned out standing near the windows, I look down to find myself tossing an orb in between my hands the size of my palm.
I stumble back, hitting the table behind me, when the orb sputters out. A groan escapes me, and I wipe my hands on my night slip, warmth settling in the middle of my palms as I stare in awe.
I still haven’t said a word to Ezra about being able to wield more—too anxious about the Siphon. The knowledge of being Shadovar puts me at risk for being targeted, especially if they find out I can wield their magic. Still, it gnaws at me, keeping this information from him. The secrets.
I’ve trained with him almost every day since we arrived, seeing him for a couple of hours before being sent off. Then a thought crosses my mind as I push my hair away from my face.
Huffing, I stride to my wardrobe and dress, braiding my hair down my back, ensuring to tightly secure the auburn patch. Sheathing my weapons, I grab my cloak and scarf.
Wind whirls at my face as soon as the door opens, a flutter of snowflakes rushing up the stairs from the opening below.
Winter has made its final appearance, and it feels as if it’s approached much faster than the previous years.
I squint against the wind, clasping my cloak under my chin.
Boots thud on the icy stone as I descend, heading to the commons to find Ezra.
I swing the doors open, finding a few of my brethren eating at the tables, everyone pivoting to look at me before going back to eating. A fire blazes in the back, warding off the chill from the previous night, and I spot Ezra eating at a table with the group.
Ren accompanies them, briefly meeting my gaze before returning to his breakfast. After last night, I had hoped to have come to a truce, but he hardly lifted his head as I blazed through the doors. As if he knew it was me storming through.
I fix a plate and walk to where Ezra sits, then sit down myself. “How was your mission?”
“It was good. I just got back last night,” Ezra says. “Were you sleeping in? You’re usually the first one in the arena.” The corners of his mouth lift as he takes another mouthful.
“I didn’t sleep in—I just wasn’t here,” I reply, throwing a piece of biscuit. “Since when do I sleep in? You’re the one I usually have to drag out of bed at the break of dawn.”
“Because my nights are an absolute delight.”
“You and I both know that’s a lie when I have to beg you to join me at the Painted Bird.” I chuckle, and then Luke pivots in our direction.
“Did you hear about the new weapons being forged?” Luke asks, his eyes eager. I meet his gaze, shaking my head at the information. New weapons are being forged?
“What new weapons?” I ask, meeting Ren’s gaze from down the table.
Luke lowers his voice. “The king is forging weapons out of a new material. I’m not sure we’re supposed to know, but I heard whispers about it on a mission a few weeks ago.”
Ren clears his throat—almost in warning—about what Luke is willingly offering me, and I throw him a glare at the interruption. Ren stands and I follow as he tosses the remnants of his food away, striding toward the arena.
“Ren, wait!” I call out, meeting him within a few seconds. “Are there any new missions for me?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he says.
“You know exactly what I mean. You seem to give Ezra and whoever else missions except for me. I haven’t had one in almost two weeks. What’s going on?”
His face remains forward, our pace even as we stride down the corridor, boots echoing off the stone. “That’s none of your concern.”
“King Elion has been absent since we came back. No new missions, and apparently new weapons are being forged…”
He halts his steps just outside the doors, facing me.
“Keep your voice down and stop asking those questions before someone overhears you. What the king does in private is none of your concern. There haven’t been any new missions open to our brethren either, so it’s not just you.
Just keep up with your training and do… whatever.
I don’t care,” he clips, crossing his arms to stare at me.
“Fine.” I narrow my eyes, then smirk. “How were your tarts?” I ask right before Ezra walks up. Ren’s eyes narrow into menacing slits.
“Are you ready?” Ezra asks, glancing between the two of us.
“Yes, right behind you.” I tilt my head up.
Ezra walks between us and taps my elbow, breaking my stare with Ren, forcing me to follow him as he pushes the door open. I throw Ren a quick glance over my shoulder as he stands there, watching me before the door shuts.
Grabbing my favorite staff, I approach the arena and twirl it in my hands a few times to warm up. But after a couple of hours training, we finish, leaving us sweaty regardless of the chilly air filling the arena.
“I’ll be gone for a few days,” Ezra says as we stride to the weapons rack.
“Again? How long?”
“I don’t know. Four days—five? I can’t be sure.” He shakes his head. “King Elion has me tracking someone in Sylvanor again.”
“Have you heard anything about what’s going on with our missions? Ren refuses to discuss anything.” I frown.
He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Not really. Just what he’s willing to offer, which isn’t much. From what I know he’s stalled the majority of our missions,” he states, glancing at me with a soft smile.
“Except for you and a couple others,” I point out. “Malrik has also gotten a few missions.”
His brows furrow before he meets my gaze, knowing that over the last few years, I’ve received all high priority targets. But now, all of a sudden, those have stopped.
He winces. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.
I won’t be able to train with you this week,” he adds softly, then changes the subject.
“I haven’t seen you wielding your orbs recently.
Are you practicing?” he asks—a question that’s not unusual since we frequently have conversations about it.
Regardless, my stomach drops. I know I have to lie. I nod. “Some. I still can’t do anything more than my small orbs. I don’t think I’ll be able to do more than that.” I shrug, the lie rolling off my tongue with ease.
Quickly grabbing my items by the door, I bid him goodbye with a small wave, walking down the corridor toward the exit. Pushing the doors open, I step into the cold courtyard.
My breath forms a cloud in front of me as a smile forms on my face. I knew Ren would unwillingly offer me information if I pestered him long enough. Ezra would feel bad enough to share tiny bits of information about his missions.
Ezra will be gone for a few more days, and Ren won’t be giving me any new missions, giving me the opportunity to head to the Painted Bird without disturbing anyone.
Or having anyone come looking for me. They won’t need me, and it gives me time to sneak out and head to the city to talk with Bess.
Perhaps I can rent a room from the brothel if Rydian is around.
I’ll have to figure out a way to find him.
The stable doors creak open, and I greet Bjorn with a wide smile, giving him the apple I snuck into my cloak, giving him a gentle pat. “Are you ready for a quick journey?”
“Anything for you,” Bjorn says.
“You can talk to me?” I gasp.
“I always talk to you. You just can’t hear me.” He chuffs, practically repeating what Ire said about Rydian, and I chuckle. “Where are we going?”
“To Alvonia. We need to go to the Painted Bird,” I say.
I waste no time and quickly mount Bjorn, leaving me to pull my scarf over my nose as the cold wind hits my face. Shivering from the ride, I arrive just outside the Painted Bird, leaving Bjorn to rest just off the street.
“I’ll be back.” I pat him, and he quietly huffs.
Assuming that’s him agreeing with me, I walk to the second level, now facing the large red door and knocking on it three times.
I’m unsure if anyone will answer as it’s midday and the brothel won’t open for many hours still.
After a few minutes, I knock again just as the small screen slides open, greeted by the large male from all the other nights. Dark eyes peer down at me.
He growls, “What do you want?”
“I’m here to see Bess.”
“You can see her tonight when we open,” he grumbles in annoyance and attempts to shut the screen. With it being so early in the day, the poor male was probably asleep.
“No, please! I need to see her. I don’t want service. I just need to talk to her. I have extra coins for your troubles,” I say with a persuading smile, jingling my coins. He suddenly shuts the window with a hard thud, leaving me to huff and turn to the street just as he opens the door.
“Hurry up,” he says, shoving a mask in my hands. “Shoes and weapons off.”
I quickly step inside when he holds out a hand, catching my gaze with a blank expression. I toss a few coins into his palm. He wiggles his fingers as if to indicate for more.
“This is all I brought.” I throw him a glare.
He wiggles them again, and I huff, dumping the rest into his palm as a small smile slowly creeps up his face.
“Follow me,” he grumbles.
I’m not sure what’s worse—the brothel being dead silent in the middle of the day or hearing all the moaning at night. Regardless, both kind of set me on edge.
We walk through the grand pleasure room, eerily quiet and not a moan to be heard in the large building. Instead of veering to our right—toward Bess’s chamber—he continues to walk straight.
To the back of the building.
“I need to see Bess,” I say, only he ignores me, continuing his stroll in silence.
Opening a door that looks to be a large office, he steps to the left, allowing me passage.
A brown-haired female in glasses sits behind a desk, sorting coins with her face pointed down in concentration.
Two large wingback chairs sit across from the desk.
Large enough to hide whoever sits in the chairs before her, as dark pants peek out from the side. She’s not alone.
I feel as if I’m interrupting a meeting.
“I have Miss…” The grumbly male looks at me, expecting me to say something.
“No names, remember?” I shrug, and he grunts like I have the gall to remind him of one of their rules. He exits the room without another word.
“Isa?” Bess calls out.
My eyes flick to the female at the desk, who is in fact Bess.
Confusion crosses my face as well as hers, like she wasn’t expecting me to step through the door.
How does she know my name? Then her jaw clenches as she eyes me, her gaze darting to the chair to the right of her desk.
As if me strolling through set her on edge.
She’s fully dressed, glasses sliding down her nose as she stares at the chair across from her. Her straight brown hair falls around her face, brushing the loose tunic that hangs off her shoulders.
“Bess? I—do you own the Painted Bird?” I stutter, my words spilling out, though a tight smile lines her mouth.
“I do. Please sit,” she says, gesturing to the settee, but I’m frozen in place.
Of course, I knew someone had to own it, but Bess? All this time she never mentioned it to me. My brows pinch, but I walk toward the empty seat anyway.
Just as I go to sit, I shoot a glance at the person occupying the settee next to me and pause. My head tilts, eyes narrowing as they shift from guest to Bess, when a sigh leaves my lips.
“Hello, little fawn. Nice to finally see you again,” Rydian drawls with a smirk.