Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“ Y our presence has been requested in the receiving hall.”
I narrow my eyes at the rather tall Mievaborn man who looks to be sweating profusely after his announcement, his pale cheeks flushed a deep pink. I’m already packed and ready to go, but I keep the door cracked open only a couple of inches so he can’t see in.
“They’re early,” comes my tart response.
The sweaty man opens his violet eyes in alarm—which, to be honest, is surprising in and of itself considering how wide open they already were—and takes a step back. Not that he’s looking me in the eye, thankfully. I don’t like the connection, the power in it. Having people avert their eyes first also gives me the opportunity to study them more easily.
An angry breath rushes from my nose, and I swing open the door all the way so the man can see my bags packed in a pile behind me, but he flinches. Having people afraid of me has its advantages, but today, it’s irritating me. Does this moron really think I’m going to assassinate him for delivering a message? It’s possible this man has no idea who I am, and his nervous demeanor has nothing to do with me. Still, I’m annoyed.
The man clears his throat. “Right. I’ll let the council know you’re on your way and have someone sent to collect your bags,” he squeaks.
He can’t get away fast enough and skids around the corner down the hall. I roll my eyes and slam the door as hard as I can so he hears it and hopefully shits his pants.
Still smirking at the thought, I quickly change into travel clothing and check the last of my belongings. Patrons of the Divine don’t usually stay past their coming-of-age; however, as a Null, I was given a permanent residence and a work detail in addition to being Jaena’s favorite assassin. I was afforded a small stipend for my work as a nanny in the children’s compound, which is nowhere near as much as I used to earn as the Silent Assassin, but even so, I rarely spent it on anything other than necessities or my weapons.
I try to pack most of my dried herbs and spice pouches, my jars of ferments and pastes, and bottles of extracts and essences, assuming we will be on horses the entire journey. I may be traveling, but I’ll be Divine-damned if my trail meals are going to be tasteless.
I’m bringing all of my weapons that can be worn on my person or packed into my bags. It’s probably not appropriate to bring my giant bo staff, my pair of ornate—but still deadly—single-bit hatchets, or the bow and arrows that are almost larger than me. Though, the latter is more because the bow was one of the only weapons I couldn’t master. This was amusing for all the weapons masters I worked with over the revs, considering Mievaborn usually have an affinity for archery. I’ll give them all to Leian.
One roll of throwing knives is wrapped low around my waist under my shirt, while the other is packed into one of my bags. I have knives hidden in my boots, strapped to my ankles, and up my sleeves. It took me a long time to create straps that would safely secure knives on me while also being practical when I needed them in a hurry. I’d be taking all my straps even if I couldn’t take the weapons.
I have a thin dagger sheathed around each thigh that I access through my pockets, my pants having been altered for this purpose. I leave my short sword attached to the belt and lean it against my bags, deciding against wearing it to the receiving hall to meet my new owners .
One of the hatchets slips over with a thud, and I pick up the familiar weight like an old friend. I don’t want to leave my stunning hatchets with beautifully crafted wooden handles behind. The bits have intricate swirls and geometric lines etched into them too. They may look decorative, but they’re amazing weapons to fight with. Well, they would be if I’d ever been able to use them outside of practice.
I admit, the woman who sold them to me had an easy job of it because I was in love the moment I saw them. They were the first weapons that I purchased myself almost a decade past. The heads are the size of my palm; each weapon is only the length of my forearm in its entirety. I’ve never once had to sharpen the bits, as the lady who sold them to me had promised. I wish I’d figured out a way to holster them. But I can’t without hurting myself, making them too cumbersome, or not easily accessible. Wrapping them in a thin piece of leather, I put them into one of my bags. I just can’t leave them behind.
I stand with my hands on my hips, surveying what has been my home for the last five revolutions. I thought I would live out my life here, or that’s what Jaena had led me to believe. The two bags at my feet make up the entirety of my existence in Osraed, and someone will move into this room and erase that I was ever here. Impulsively, I grab one of my knives and carve MIKA into the door frame. I grab the weapons for Leian and walk through the door for the last time.
I’m late, of course. I stride in with confidence even though Jaena is giving me a glare that would have the ability to light me on fire if that was her Gift. I swallow the smirk that tugs at the corner of my lips.
The receiving hall is enormous, unnecessarily so. Nothing much happens in this part of the compound except Patron sales. Osraed is full of old architecture, and it makes me wonder what this country looked like before the world split. This beautiful hall is clearly from before , and what a waste it is to use it for this purpose only. Tall ceilings, large slab concrete walls, and wooden balustrades circling above, as if this was once a place filled with so many people that they would spectate from above.
The air is crisp as no fire has been lit; a clear sign that this won’t take long. Standing tall with my arms behind my back, I nod a greeting at the three people who must be my escorts.
The first thing I notice is that while the two men are clearly Nemorisborn, an Erduborn woman is with them. All three are giants, although the woman looks a little short for Erduborn, who are usually at least six feet tall, even the women. But maybe it is because the Nemorisborn men are amusingly large.
Both the Erduborn woman and the larger of the two men are violet-eyed Patrons of the Divine. The other Nemorisborn man has regular, normal, green eyes of the forest. Eyes that keep stealing a look in my direction while he should be paying attention to the council president. He’s probably noticed the blooming bruise on my cheek from last night. Oops.
They are all wearing the tall leather boots and layered clothing of Nemoris, covered in various leather vests, straps and holsters. I’m sure they’d be an intimidating sight to someone else.
“Commander Cristoph Ofnemoris, this is Mika. Please accept my apologies for her tardiness. We were not expecting you so soon,” Jaena’s pleasant voice rings out while the rest of the five council members sit quietly in their seats on either side of her. Their apprentices stand like good little statues behind them, and I spot the sweaty man and curl my lip. He knows exactly who I am if he’s a council apprentice. It's odd that he was the one to deliver the message.
“Please, join us for refreshments,” Jaena asks, drawing my attention back to the Council President and her practiced smile.
“While we appreciate the offer of hospitality, ma’am, my companions and I are eager to get back on the road as our journey is already a long one,” Commander Cristoph says, and I try not to giggle. The tallest of the group, the giant man’s voice is so deep and gravelly that it sounds like two rocks scraping against each other, as though it takes real effort to speak.
“Understandable, Commander. We will not keep you any longer. Mika’s bags will be taken to your horses, but otherwise, there is nothing preventing you from departing. Commander Cristoph, Tovi, Riley, it’s been a pleasure. Good luck on your journey, and Divine blessings to you all.” Jaena’s friendly presidential persona can be so lovely when she turns it on, even if her offer for them to stay was empty.
With that, Jaena stands, and then so does the rest of the council, all filing out of the room, followed by their apprentices. Leaving me with the three living mountains. Not a look back, no attempt from Jaena at all to say goodbye. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.
“Well, she’s not any less terrifying the second time,” the slightly less giant of the two men—Riley—jokes as he folds his arms across his chest, the muscles of his forearms bare. His eyes now unabashedly take me in, and this time not just my bruised face.
He might be attractive if it didn’t look like he was constantly smirking or was in on a joke that he knew you weren’t. His heavy-lidded eyes, which are surveying me closely, hold an obscene amount of long, lush eyelashes the same color as his brows—a blood-red so dark they’re almost black. The hair on his head is only a shade lighter, slightly longer than mine with a definite wave and worn half up in a small bun. Quite the contrast to the commander’s fire-orange beard and shaved head.
I was clearly mistaken in my original assessment. All three are a minimum of six feet tall; the two men are definitely more than a foot taller than me and maybe a couple of feet wider too. All of them angle their heads down to look at me as I walk toward them, and an awkward silence descends.
One smirking, one grinning, and the other giving me a cold hard stare.
“So…I’m Mika,” I say, introducing myself redundantly.
The commander’s face—full of freckles—bursts into a grin as he claps me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me off my feet. His pounding laugh echoes through the receiving hall. “Nice to have you, Mika!”
“You’re much smaller than we were expecting,” Riley says, and Tovi elbows him in the ribs. “What I mean to say is, hello, I’m Riley.”
Tovi rolls her eyes and heads for the door, without so much as a word of greeting .
“Nice to meet you, Riley. I can assure you that my stature has no bearing on my abilities.”
He nods as he starts backing toward the exit, a smile that turns into a smirk the longer he stares. “Oh, I’m sure. Especially if that bruise is anything to go by.”
The commander clears his throat and Riley spins around, jogging after Tovi before I can reply.
“Let me introduce you to your horse for the trip, Mika,” the commander offers, humor tinged in his voice.
“Meet Applemint,” the commander says with a flourish as he attaches my bags to a beautiful gray and brown dappled mare. “Oh, and before I forget, here are your pins.” He hands me five pins of varying sizes after digging into his pockets.
These pins are my ownership tags. They’re forest green triangles with my Patron number in gold. I must wear one at all times lest someone think I am a defector. I remove my violet, circular Osraed pin attached to my collar and replace it with the Nemoris one.
“Thank you, Commander Cristoph.”
“Woah,” he says as he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going to need you to drop the formality, or this is going to be a long journey.” He puts his hand forward to shake mine. “You can call me Beans.”
I shake his outstretched hand, observing that my hand looks like a child’s in his enormous paw. “Beans?” Beans?
“That’s the one!” He turns and gives one final tug of tension to my bag straps, now attached to Applemint, before cheerily strolling off .
Applemint seizes my distraction and immediately starts nudging around my pockets.
“She’s looking for her namesake,” Tovi says. She pulls out a bag of applemints from her pocket, feeds the horse one, and hands me the rest.
“Thank you,” I say, smiling at her.
“Don’t feed her too many or she shits herself,” she says over her shoulder, walking off.
Cold. Everything about her screams it, even the stiff way she ties up her long and curly brunette hair, so shiny that even on this cloudy Osraed day, it reflects the light. Her features are all harsh lines, with nothing soft about her. Clearly a very fit woman, her Nemoris leathers do not hide her muscles or the curves of her full breasts and hips.
Riley crosses into my line of view, riding his horse and leading another almost identical one by the reins alongside him. Both are Nemoris cloud horses, gray in color with exceptionally full—but short and stumpy—tails, manes that are basically just a thick fuzz, and coarse hair that grows from knee joints down to their hooves.
Just as I was beginning to think Tovi could be entirely unyielding, her face blooms into a beatific smile…at the horse Riley is leading. I mount Applemint, watching Tovi’s lips move, and realize she is speaking to her horse. She looks like an entirely different person right now, stroking the face of the creature, her olive Erduborn skin almost glowing.
I look away, not wanting to be caught watching her and suffer another one of those cold stares she seems to reserve just for me.