Chapter 8
Elyse
Elyse couldn’t believe she’d ever been in love with that moron.
She sauntered down the hallway, right past the door to Manny and Sera’s room.
She would put off talking to them as long as she could.
Manny would be skeptical of her, which was justified, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be irritating.
And Sera would likely fawn over her, trying to reinstill their friendship, failing to see that Elyse didn’t give a devil’s fuck.
Maybe Elyse would poison them, if only to get them out of her hair.
She’d been watching Killian, Manny, and Sera for a day, observing their movements with a detached curiosity and waiting for the right moment to approach Killian.
Breaking into his bedroom while he slept had seemed like the most amusing choice, which turned out to be accurate.
He’d looked like a fool, drooling in his sleep—so much so that she’d nearly reconsidered her plan.
She launched down the stairs and into the inn’s dining hall, which was deserted compared to how crowded it had been the night before.
It’d been easy to hide among the horde of diners and revelers, using her magic to eavesdrop on her former friends.
Too bad they had nothing interesting to say, and no solid information on Lazarus’s whereabouts. They were equally as lost as she was.
Elyse had tracked the demon’s destruction ruthlessly, desperate to discover a pattern to his havoc.
But if there was one, it evaded her. He likely acted on a whim, choosing his victims at random.
Then again, she’d never caught on to his reasoning behind each full-moon ritual, at least not until it was too late to interfere with his plan to become corporeal.
And now that he no longer relied on humans to do his bidding, he was practically unstoppable.
That was the very reason she sought to kill Lazarus. The demon had used her. For eight-and-twenty years, she’d been little more than a pawn in his scheme, enslaved to his will. He’d manipulated her, caused her physical and mental anguish. That wasn’t something she planned to let slide.
Heat smothered her as she stepped out of the inn and into the street. It would be another scorching day in Rhodan.
Rivaling the heat was the desire for revenge that burned Elyse’s veins.
She wasn’t thrilled about the idea of helping people—about talking to people, even—but Killian had made a fair point.
Reversing Lazarus’s mayhem would aggravate the demon.
It might even provoke him enough to show his face, instead of conducting his magic from the shadows.
But it would do no good to go toe-to-toe with Lazarus until she had a plan—and a weapon. The Blade of Hanael was the only tool she knew of to end his reign of terror. And even with the Blade, she would still need a solid strategy—some way to outsmart Lazarus.
That was why she hadn’t torn Killian to shreds for his arrogance. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed allies to take Lazarus down. And that started with Killian’s card-playing skills.
She wasn’t sure where exactly she was headed as she strolled past the pathetic excuse for a general store.
She knew she’d needed to get away from Killian and his pitiful eyes.
The way he’d stared at her with hurt and longing had been enough to make her want to vomit. He needed to get himself sorted out.
With time to kill, she whisked herself away from the dreadful town. Her new skill had come in handy these past few weeks as she’d transported herself across Rhodan. Unfortunately, much like with the transportation potion, she was restricted to places she’d been to before.
Her feet touched down on cobblestone, and she heard people gasp at her sudden appearance. Elyse threw a nearby pedestrian a wink as she marched forward and left the small crowd to gawk at her.
Sevhella was just as miserably warm as Domistad.
Summer always brought out the offensive smells of the capital, and she wrinkled her nose as she paraded the streets.
Several passersby noted her scornful expression and the dagger sheathed at her hip, and swiftly crossed to the far side of the street.
The business district was crowded as bankers and merchants bustled about. Their snooty accents and snake-oil pitches were an assault to her ears, but the district was the best place for what she sought.
She spotted a boy perched at an intersection, a wool cap atop his head. The caps were a part of the uniform of all Bulletin Boys—a wise choice for the winter, but a horrid accessory in the summer. Still, it always made them easy to spot.
She approached the boy. He might have been six. Might have been thirteen. Elyse didn’t know children’s ages. He grinned up at her with teeth that were too big for his mouth, and sweat-slicked hair peeping out from under his cap.
“Would you like the news, miss?” he asked when she stopped before him.
Elyse answered with a bronze coin.
The boy proudly pocketed the coin before holding his hands together in front of him, as if doing so might help him remember his recitation better.
“The Sammerhan Tournament begins in six weeks, and the contestants—”
“Pass,” Elyse interrupted. This time of year, the Bulletin Boys always began with news about the upcoming Sammerhan Games, the multi-kingdom tournament that occurred every year in late summer. Elyse had never paid attention to it before, and she cared about it even less now.
The boy frowned up at Elyse.
“Erm,” he fumbled, trying to regain his verbal footing. “With the recent, terrible passing of Niall Royce, his company’s assets have officially been acquired by—”
“Pass,” Elyse sniped again. Business acquisitions weren’t the sort of news she was after. Royce was dead, picked apart with the same blade that was tucked into her belt. His estate meant nothing to her. “Anything catastrophic? Any floods or fires? Something apocalyptic?”
The boy gaped up at her before glancing around the street, as if someone nearby might assist him. “No,” he said with a gulp. “But Mr. and Mrs. Parisian are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter…”
Elyse turned and strode away, not bothering to listen to the rest of the boy’s spiel.
If he was already getting to the marital announcements, then it was a slow news day.
That meant Lazarus hadn’t been up to anything noteworthy over the last two days—or Maelor was making sure to keep the information from the public.
She made her way to Cherry Street, which housed a miniature market area.
Men in suits scurried through the street, most of them headed to work, a few of them pausing at the food carts to pick up a quick breakfast. Elyse’s feet carried her toward one particular cart, which sold cheesy sausage stuffed in a sweet roll.
She spotted the cart with its neat line of rolls wrapped in parchment and secured with twine.
The vendor’s eyes crinkled with a smile as he made change for a customer.
Keeping a steady pace, Elyse aimed for the cart. She smiled back at the vendor but didn’t slow, not faltering a step as she swiped a roll off the cart and kept walking.
“Stop! Thief!” the vendor called after her.
Elyse didn’t break stride. A handful of businessmen leered at her, stunned and confused, but no one moved to stop her. With a snap of her fingers, the crowded street vanished, and she was back in the dusty, dreary town center of Domistad.
There were only a handful of people outside, and none of them seemed to notice Elyse. She leaned against the nearest building, one foot propped against the wall, and unwrapped her sweet roll.
Not one bite into her breakfast, three figures emerged from the inn a few buildings down. Sera was in the lead, her inky black hair whipping around her as she jerked her head to either side, scanning the street. Killian and Manny followed behind her with caution.
Sera’s gaze landed on Elyse, and she burst into a run. Her purple eyes were wide with excitement.
Elyse didn’t move from her stance against the wall. Sera nearly crashed into her, both arms extended for an embrace, but Elyse lifted her free hand, holding it out to stop her.
“Touch me, and the only visions you’ll be seeing will be of your own death.”
Sera’s expression fell, her jaw slack. Manny, who had caught up, immediately took a threatening step forward, but Killian caught him by the shoulder. He shook his head as if conveying to Manny that he should pick his battles wisely.
Clever boy.
Somewhat placated by Killian’s warning, Manny’s shoulders relaxed, but he remained close to Sera.
Elyse eyed him as she tore another bite from the sweet roll.
Manny looked as he had weeks ago, his wild blond hair in its usual bun, his stocky stature brimming with confidence.
There was still a hint of mischief in his eyes, but it was buried beneath a layer of worry.
“Elyse,” Sera said finally, her voice like a whimper.
Elyse turned her attention to her old friend. Sera looked different—and not merely because she wore trousers and a tunic in place of her usual dresses. Circles lined her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. Long gone was the beauty that had once crushed the hearts of so many men in Sevhella.
“Are you ready?” Killian asked. He kept his distance from her, eyeing Elyse as though she might take a bite out of him.
Elyse popped the last piece of her roll into her mouth. She didn’t bother swallowing it before she said, “Tell the farmers to plant as many seeds as they can—today.”