Chapter Ten
THE SPY
The sun had reached its zenith and was well on its descent by the time I staggered to the bathroom to wash my face. A few sprays of blood from last night’s foray dotted my cheek. The coolness of the water awakened my sluggish mind and perked up the magic in my veins.
Purple-blue eyes reflected back at me. Were they always this hollow?
The sight of my pale-pink strands had me pulling out the container of coracite rock.
I crushed it into a fine powder, then added a few drops of water.
In moments, the thick paste coated the strands of my waist-length hair.
Its effects muted out any other pigment and will render my hair a lustrous white, similar to many in the realm.
My mother instilled in me the importance of hiding my hair’s true color.
I didn’t know the why, but I remembered her unwavering fear.
I promised her I would never reveal it to anyone—even the king.
I had made that promise shortly before her death.
After washing the paste out, I secured my three braids behind my right ear and two behind my left.
Since we were going out, I made them much thinner than normal in case Delah decided to do something crazy with my hair.
Hardly noticeable, I tugged on them the way my mother used to, a habit I had no intention of breaking.
I startled when my bedroom door flew open. Delah had an extra shimmy to her steps as she burst into my room, getting herself ready and fussing over me. “Wear one of my dresses. The blue one! It’ll make your eyes pop.” Then she scurried away.
I chuckled to myself. We used to go out and flirt and dance until we could barely stand. The more I advanced in my training, the more I realized these events would have to be forgotten. Connections led to cracks in my armor. They opened me up to vulnerabilities.
I grabbed dark kohl and a thin brush, drawing a vicious cat-eye.
Delah was right; blue would complement the gold flecks in them.
Delah rounded the corner, bustling back into my room.
Wearing a lime-green slip of a dress, she presented my blue outfit with a barely restrained giggle.
I eyed it dubiously. The last time I wore it, I wasn’t quite as filled out.
My eyebrow arched as Delah thrust it into my arms.
“If it’s a few inches shorter because your chest decided to outgrow mine, then that’s your ‘problem.’ ” She made air quotes and rolled her eyes playfully.
I pulled it on with a groan. It was definitely a few inches shorter.
I’d be yanking on it all night. It was tighter on my hips, and the halter style highlighted my toned arms. The material rippled and shimmered, like the water I so easily controlled.
Delah curled my hair into soft waves. After fluffing her own curls, she gave me a once-over, smiling in approval. I finished putting some color on my lips and took her arm in mine. Her lime-green dress glittered as we headed toward the front of the house.
“Let’s do this.”
Walking through the city at night left me equally elated and unsettled. I loved the meandering cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter, and bustle of life. It reminded me of what I fought for. Why I sleuthed and killed and tortured. To protect this—families and communities.
I fought for the mother I’d lost.
King Nolan did his best to provide for the city’s orphans, for me, and I was deeply grateful.
In the immediate aftermath of my home burning down, because of the king, I always had a roof over my head and plenty of food.
He built the orphanages that housed and protected all the children who lost parents to Glint.
He provided free electricity and access to clean water.
Unease followed when I inevitably witnessed the golden shimmer of Glint on moaning bodies slumped in alleyways. There was a veil of darkness in Maripol that felt like a disease, a wet tarp weighing down the city’s energy. The residual result of the rebellion’s work.
Rage boiled every time another child was orphaned from an overzealous addict. Frustration gnawed at me when it seemed that all my efforts to dismantle Glint’s power were a waste. I couldn’t give up on the innocents, though. I was once like them.
I pushed my thoughts aside, intent on enjoying this time with Delah.
The bass emanating from the festival could be felt in every one of my organs as a circle of trees and stone came into view.
The sound wielder behind the music must have had a powerful skillset for amplification.
Delah’s eyes lit in excitement as we entered.
Ice sculptures in the shape of various animals presided over the crowd atop silver pedestals.
My lip curled at the sight of the carved-ice drake.
It reminded me of the dreki when they shape-shifted—all scales and claws. I looked away.
Aerial dancers hung from vines dropping down from the trees’ canopy.
Light orbs floated around them, their dim light pulsing.
The walls of the festival consisted of ancient, twisted trees tangled together in an orgy of limbs.
Swaying leaves created a strobing effect as the light from the two moons scattered downward, invoking a mesmerizing atmosphere.
Servers floated between crowds of people, various drinks in tow. Smoke wafted from the top of several glasses. I grabbed a purple mixture with a floating candied iris and a honey-colored libation with a twist of lemon for Delah.
She accepted her drink with a dazzling smile, and we clinked our glasses together. She took a big gulp, while I slowly sipped mine. I rolled my shoulders, shoving my discomfort aside. This wasn’t my scene, but I was determined to have fun for Delah.
I surveyed the space, the people moving in stop-motion from the erratic lights while I continued forcing the tension and vigilance from my rigid body—old habits die hard. I downed the rest of my drink and allowed the alcohol to lull my nerves.
Delah, ever the optimist, snagged my wrist and pulled me into the mass of bodies that clogged the dance area. The tangy smell of Glint engulfed me like fog in the vale.
“Delah!” A feminine voice carried through the din. Delah turned and embraced the woman.
“Rue, this is Jazmina, a fellow elixist I work with.” I nodded and smiled a greeting.
Delah turned toward Jazmina, chatting. Their laughter rang in the air at some shared inside joke.
I glanced away from their friendly banter.
Delah deserved to experience the freedom and joy of friendships and thrilling nights out.
It was for this very thing that I had fought in the Scourge.
I turned just as two unnaturally attractive, and very muscular, men sauntered over. Delah paused her conversation.
“Care to dance?” the blonde one asked Delah.
She grabbed his hand as a devious smile formed.
She repositioned herself toward her willing partner.
He wore his long hair in a top knot, the sides shaved, like some god of the north.
Just Delah’s type. I kept her in my sights as they got acquainted with each other.
The darker man hovered near me. “You probably want to dance with that one.” I gestured toward Jazmina.
“Actually, I would like to dance with you.” He extended his hand.
I eyed him. Why not?
The scent of leather and amber tugged on the edges of my mind as I drew closer to him.
I reflexively inhaled it. Darkness swirled around him as the moonlight flickered.
His shadows blended seamlessly with the night around him to the casual observer.
But I had experience with sentient darkness.
Awareness shot through me. This was the general.
Though he hid behind his shadows previously, did he think I wouldn’t recognize him? Or did he just not care?
He lowered his face to speak into my ear. “You don’t seem like the type to frequent these events.” I suppressed a shiver. A little flirting wouldn’t hurt my chances at gleaning some information from him. Two could play this game.
I peered upward, trying to assess his face. His eyes flared briefly, but the shadows obscured a clear view. “This isn’t my scene. I’m here for my friend. And I could say the same for you. This doesn’t seem like your idea of a good time.” I arched my brow.
He shrugged one shoulder. “I told you I’d find you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him before he sent me into a spin. I caught glimpses of bodies unfolding off of the thick vines dangling above us, arms extended in the air around me, in time to the beat of drums, and couples twirling in hypnotic motion.
He pulled me back into his body, moving with sensuous grace.
My own body awakened. The revelry and my previous purple drink loosened my inhibitions.
I felt like a flower leaning toward the sun, willing to be scorched by the heat of the temptation in front of me.
I could set aside my hatred if it meant I got him talking.
It had been years since I allowed myself to indulge with a man. None had come close to the caliber of what stood before me. The heartless general. No one was more off-limits. No one I hated more.
I wondered how far I could push him.
His large hand skimmed down my arms, landing in the dip of my waist. He firmly commanded my body as we moved in time with the music.
His touch seared my skin through the thin fabric of my dress, and I wondered if he had this effect on all the women he danced with.
His forearms flexed as his hand devoured my waistline.
I casually draped my arms around his neck, playing with his cropped dark hair.
He kept it short on the sides and longer on top.
A few strands tried to fall across his forehead, begging for my correction.
Dark, silvery runes cast a light shimmer from his jaw down below his collar.
I blinked at the inscriptions, but they disappeared. I’d never seen a tattoo like that.