23. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Archer
“Your Highness. There’s a call for aid in the Upper District,” Grey explained, his expression perfectly neutral. He was already dressed to depart, always the loyal guard prepared to defend his city and hunt down the phoenix shifters.
A prick of pain reminded me I wasn’t totally lost to the hollow sensation consuming me. There was still room to experience sorrow and hopelessness and guilt. But I set aside my glass of wine—my hangover kept me from wanting to overindulge again so soon—and pretended I was eager for the hunt.
In my lap, Onyx protested my movement and leapt back onto my writing desk.
Grey shifted on his feet, studying the flickering candlelight casting shadows over my bookshelves.
I hadn’t left the library since Isoria had stalked out, preferring the company of my books to the isolation of my bedroom.
Somehow, their presence made me feel better, a reminder that I could lose myself in their pages if I needed to.
“Have you found anything more about the necromancer? Or how a shifter is raising the dead?”
As a guard who’d also served as a soldier alongside Lily, Owen, and me in many battles against the revenants before Father had ordered us to stay behind the barrier, Grey was one of the few who knew of my efforts and actually cared about their results.
“Not yet.” I left for my weapons room and Grey followed me. As I chose a blade to strap to my side, he filled me in on the details of the message he’d received.
“A neighbor reported about a female, Scarlet Tideglow, who lives nearby with her son, just the two of them. She has never been forthright about what happened to the father, which was the first cause of suspicion for the neighbor—her secretive nature. Most recently, she noticed Scarlet cooking in her home and touching a flame without it burning or harming her.”
A single mother, living alone, turned in by her neighbor?
Misgiving coursed through me, but I tried to brush it aside, tried to stifle my hatred for this job.
I wanted to protect my people, and I hated and feared the phoenix shifters as much as anyone, but sometimes, innocents were caught in these hunts.
What if we stormed to this female’s door and questioned her and found it was all for naught?
What if we tested her and she burned? Sometimes, the reporters were wrong.
“Is that all?” I asked, trying to keep my tone nonchalant.
Grey shifted his stance. “You know it’s enough, Your Highness.”
I scrubbed a weary hand down my face. “And how far away is this Scarlet Tideglow? I told you, I can’t be far from the castle these days.” My voice was tight. “I…don’t want to leave Isoria alone, even with the guards to protect her. Too much unrest. Too many phoenixes.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Grey said. He’d already heard all these arguments, but for some reason, I felt the need to voice them again, as if that would convince him, convince everyone, that I was in love with the death-lover, not trapped in her presence. “She’s only a few blocks away.”
“Less than a mile?”
“Close enough you could run the distance in mere minutes,” Grey affirmed with a soft smile, repeating the words I’d given as my excuse when I’d first told him I’d no longer join hunts more than a mile away.
Without another word, we left my quarters, passing Isoria’s closed door, and wound our way through the castle.
The other guards joining us already waited outside in the courtyard, where a pair of carriages sat, ready to carry us to our destination.
Grey and I settled into my personal one with my driver, Cliff, already prepared to go.
Pulled by a pair of Cliff’s jaguars, it was swifter than any other carriage, but it meant the other guards kept their distance.
It was a great way to intimidate a death-lover, though.
While the party continued throughout the castle grounds, spilling into the city itself, everyone who saw our royal carriages was swift to move out of our way on the streets.
Darkness still clung to the world, and the air was heavy and damp, only the slightest breeze stirring the palm branches we passed under.
The Upper District was nestled near the northern edge of Rainsong, close to Cinderwood. Out here, the festivities were only a muted jumble of music and noise. The residents of the modest homes here were all either out closer to the castle to partake in the fun or settled in their homes to sleep.
Cliff, taking Grey’s cue when the guard knocked on the carriage ceiling, paused outside a one-story building painted a rich green that blended with the jungle foliage. Bright pink shutters and cheerful window boxes of flowers adorned Scarlet’s home.
My stomach coiled with revulsion. Near the front door, a few wooden toys—mostly carved animals and soldiers from what I could make out—sat in a box, waiting for the little male who lived here to return to playing outside.
This didn’t look like the home of a monster.
I forced myself to exit the carriage and approach the door anyway, pounding loudly and confidently on its surface with a gloved fist. My heart matched the intensity of that pounding as it pulsed in my ears.
Noises from within reached us as the female stirred and hurried to open the door.
As it swung open, she blinked wide, terrified brown eyes at us.
She had tawny skin that looked like she spent long hours out in the sun, and her hair hung in loose curls of varying shades of pink and red. Like a living flame.
Unease shot through me—but any fae could look like that, not just a phoenix shifter.
What made me useful on these visits was the fact that I could make our suspects want to cooperate and answer our questions, without having to resort to testing them with fire. It was a small mercy.
Over the female’s shoulder, I caught a glimpse of her son, likely no more than five, watching us with confusion in his sleep-bleary eyes.
My stomach churned. I had a sudden, vivid memory of Mother cradling me on a distant night, brushing her hand through my hair and singing in soft tones to comfort me after a nightmare.
Doubt clung to me. If this female was a phoenix shifter, she was a threat.
Right?
But as my eyes scanned their simple home, all I saw was evidence of a quiet, peaceful life: dishes drying by the sink, more toys scattered near the low-burning hearth, a pair of socks lying in a basket of sewing materials by an armchair, waiting to be mended.
“Mama?” the boy called out nervously.
“Do not worry, my love. Go back to bed,” Scarlet replied, even though there was a quaver in her voice. Her eyes were scanning our royal uniforms, noting who we were.
“Scarlet Tideglow? A neighbor sent word of suspicious activity,” Grey announced. “We need to question you.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “What sort of suspicious activity?”
She knew, but she wanted to feign naivety.
“There are concerns you are a phoenix shifter. Let us in, and if you are innocent, this will be brief and you’ll be back in your bed in a few minutes.”
Scarlet’s jaw clenched. “There’s a child here,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to frighten him. Couldn’t this be done elsewhere, when he is at school?”
“This cannot wait.” Grey muscled his way forward, and her eyes widened. She stepped back, letting us in, standing tall and quiet.
The two other guards from our other carriage filed in after Grey and me, forming a semicircle around the female. Still clothed in her nightgown and barefoot, she looked anything but intimidating, but I knew phoenixes could be tricky and deceptive.
I was already half-drowning in my pit of despair and numbness, and now I’d have to wield my magic again to avoid the barbaric act of using fire. Even if many guards still pressured me for its use, since it was an unquestioned confirmation of a phoenix shifter.
“Scarlet,” I murmured, my tone warm and honeyed, like a predator luring its prey with the promise of comfort or pleasure. My magic thickened the air as her body relaxed, her eyes fixing on me. “Tell me the truth: are you a phoenix shifter?”
I could sense when her will fought against my influence, shaking off some of the feelings that made her want to obey. Her eyes widened the slightest bit. She gritted her teeth, as if trying to hold back the words.
She was strong of mind, and this wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.
Again, I focused my magic. Her emotions pulsated with fear and desperation, and, worn down by using my magic earlier and fighting Mortius’ curse, trying to influence them felt like trying to grasp slippery, unwieldy threads.
“I’m a citizen of Emberglade,” she said smoothly.
Swallowing, I tried again, struggling against her willpower. Her eyes weren’t as fearful, but there was still a lingering wariness in them. She wasn’t going to be easy.
Dread pooled in my stomach. “Are you also a phoenix shifter?”
Defiance gleamed in her dark eyes. “I told you who I am.”
“Strike your matches,” Grey ordered the two other guards.
My pulse pounded in my ears. The boy was in the hallway again, standing outside his bedroom, his eyes wide with horror. “What is happening, Mama?”
“Please, Cypress.” Her voice quavered. Her eyes remained locked on me. “I am having a conversation with the prince and his guards who protect our city.”
He sniffled. “I want a hug. I can’t go back to sleep.”
She swallowed as the guards struck their matches against their tinder boxes, each igniting a small flame and approaching Scarlet. Each seized one of her arms, holding the tiny flames over her skin.
Cypress’s voice turned shrill, panicked. “Don’t hurt my mama! Please!”
The flames pressed against her skin, dancing over it. She grimaced, and I searched hopefully for burns. She was innocent; the injuries would be minor; she would go back to comfort her son. All would be well.
“No burns,” one of the males proclaimed. “Foul fire demon!” He slammed a fist into Scarlet’s face, striking her cheekbone and dropping her to the floor before she could react. Her head struck the wall behind her, and she blinked dazedly.
“Restrain her!”
Cypress was screaming. My ears rang. I was going to be sick.
Manacles infused with forget-me-nots from the mountains were slammed around Scarlet’s wrists, their influence forcing her to forget her own magic. It was a painful experience, but it rendered her harmless as long as they were in contact with her bare skin.
She’s dangerous. She would burn down this entire city. She’s likely here, waiting to strike.
I couldn’t hear what Grey was saying.
She could be the one Maris prophesied about, the one supposed to ruin our royal family.
“No! Please!”
I straightened, forcing myself to function.
I couldn’t descend into darkness now. The despair could cloud my mind later, when I was alone.
“Take her to the dungeons to be questioned,” I ordered firmly.
“And the boy—take him to the royal servants and let them ensure he is somewhere safe until we decide what to do with him.”
The guards shoved Scarlet into one of the waiting carriages before returning to restrain a panicked Cypress, depositing him in my own carriage.
“Well done, Your Highness,” Grey commended with a nod, slamming the door as we exited the home and striding toward my carriage.
I glanced up, eyes locking with Cliff. There was a sorrow in his gaze that mirrored my own, or maybe I was only seeing what I wished to see.
Was I going mad? I swallowed. Perhaps the boy was a phoenix shifter as well. They were cruel, dangerous.
But we didn’t slay children.
And how could I slay the only person in the world he had to care for him? His guardian? How could I leave him as bereaved as I was?
“I’m going to walk,” I announced, and before the drivers set the carriages into motion, I was already losing myself in the shadowed corners of the street.