Chapter Six Light #2
A heavy gray mist had settled in the storm’s wake, but she kept to the evening’s growing shadows anyway, methodically weaving into the East End. She knew this city like she knew every facet of her father’s blade. Knew its secrets, weaknesses, quirks. She had been made by it.
One hand on her dagger, Reya slipped between houses and in and out of alleyways, pausing now and then to glance behind.
Whoever they were, she had to give them credit.
Thus far, they’d been both invisible and harmless.
One of the Bluehoods keeping tabs on her for Lennox, probably.
And she was content to lead them on a merry chase.
Her clothes were unremarkable: fitted brown leather pants and a gray jersey wrap beneath a simple black cloak, under which she was armed to the teeth.
Her bow and quiver were stowed across her back next to her pack, which she planned to keep with her for the next two days in case her plan blew up in her face.
That morning, after she’d scared the piss out of a high-standing member of the king’s council while he was soaking in his bathing chamber, she’d followed his carriage to ensure her message was delivered to the mountain palace.
Then she’d stopped by two of her stashes, tucking the Sage’s axe away for safekeeping and retrieving the coin she needed.
Carrying too much coin at one time was asking for trouble, and so was putting it all in one spot.
Lennox had taught her how to disperse and diversify her wealth, making it more difficult for people like them to take.
Reya had four caches hidden throughout the city, not including her account at the Royal Bank of Rhiterra.
Shops and galleries were a rainbow of color lining the streets of the arts district, their windows full of paintings, sculptures, and handmade goods.
From the moment she’d stepped foot in this city, she had wanted to hate it and everything that it represented.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.
Not when places like this existed. She never stole from artists.
At least not directly, anyway. It felt wrong…
like stealing a piece of someone’s soul.
Reya ducked inside the busiest tavern she could find, weaving her way through the crowd and making her way out of the back room and into another alley. Her tail was gone. Amateur. She let the mist swallow her once more, winding her way north.
Tomorrow night, the council member would arrive to meet her at the Peacock, where she’d already arranged to have him ushered out the back entrance and into a carriage, which would deliver him to a long-abandoned warehouse and away from any Silver Guardsman assigned to keep him safe. There, they would make the exchange.
At the end of the alley, high over Edris, the silver spires and blue glass domes of the mountain palace broke through the mist, reaching into the peaks at the city’s back.
She smiled as she imagined Rothmire brooding on his throne, wondering how the Crimson Dagger had gotten ahold of his private letters.
A low snarl echoed down the alley behind her.
Every hair on her body stood on end as she turned, peering into the mist that curled around a small movement like hot breath on a chilly night. Slowly, she drew her knives.
Bright, wide yellow eyes appeared in the fog, followed by a maw dripping with red spittle, like the creature it was attached to had recently had a meal.
At first, Reya thought they were wolves.
But as the two enormous beasts emerged from the gray night, anyone could see they were not of the north, nor any other corner of the empire.
Like someone had taken a creature of this world and twisted until it was something wholly different.
Bigger than bears, they were stooped on all fours, muscular hind legs bent over massive paws almost too long for their bodies, giving the animals a strange hybrid gait as they prowled toward her.
Reya’s eyes couldn’t move fast enough: jagged-sharp teeth bent over elongated jaws, black fur that was thicker along their shoulders and back, and hides peppered with scars—like they had been clawed apart and pieced back together.
She tried to rationalize it: Maybe they were diseased, or some rare foreign creature that had wandered off a poaching ship and into the city.
Fear, one of them snarled, licking its teeth.
It’s ripe with it, said the other.
Reya tasted her dinner on her tongue. Right.
Talking wolf-monsters. Not terrifying at all.
She repeated the lie to straighten her spine as their lips curled around low growls.
There was no time to think about what they were or how they’d beat the city watch.
Reya could hear Lennox in her head screaming at her to brace.
She had been raised in the mountains, where wild animals still roamed and nature was more dangerous than any magic, and she knew what it meant to be cornered.
If she had to bleed, so be it, but she would damn well live.
Reya sheathed her knives in favor of her bow and nocked an arrow, muscles trembling at the pain in her ribs.
Behind her, the alley was open to the street, but if she tried make a run for it and was attacked from behind, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
And running might be the very thing to set them off.
Her necklace was so hot it nearly seared the skin off her breastbone.
Mouths drooling and eyes hungry, they both charged. Cursing, Reya aimed for the closest one and let the arrow fly, striking its right shoulder. It kept coming. She shot again, this time with two arrows, and this time for its eye. It pitched and howled as the arrows hit their mark.
How was it not dead?
Blood rushing in her ears, Reya drew again and aimed for the other one, the owl-feather fletching grazing the corner of her mouth.
It roared as it lunged, spittle flying less than a pace from her.
She felt the heat of the animal’s breath on her forehead as the bowstring snapped.
The arrow went wide as its jaws latched onto the riser, the handle and arrow splintering between its teeth.
Cursing loud enough for the whole city to hear, she let go and palmed her knives again, instinct taking over.
Something primal in her stirred as she crouched, blades raised, and cried out as if to wake the All-Gods, “Come on!”
And the creature smiled.
Reya plunged both knives into its sides as it tackled her to the jagged cobblestones. But she may as well have been tickling it.
Its teeth clamped down on her left shoulder, tearing through fabric and flesh, and Reya’s screams rent the night.
It tastes like power.
She retracted her daggers and thrust them in again and again, adding to its tapestry of scars.
The creature began dragging her across the cobblestones on her side, as if taking dinner back to its den.
Reya thrashed, clawing at its head with her blades as tears spilled down her cheeks, screaming for her maker and the pain and everything she hadn’t seen and done, the life she hadn’t lived.
Warm blood poured over her chest and into her hair, and bile ran down her chin. It was tearing her open.
Teeth met bone, and with a shriek that seemed to rip her throat, she plunged a blade into its eye. It released her, howling into the night.
Reya didn’t dare look down as she pushed to her feet, drawing her ruby dagger and trying not to think about the agony in her left side. Her vision blurred.
Come, half-breed, give us another taste.
Master wants it whole.
Red spilled down her sleeve, soaking her grip on the hilt and dripping to the ground like the rubies themselves were weeping. Deep inside where she’d buried it, something ugly writhed, demanding blood in exchange for what they’d spilled of hers.