Chapter Nineteen The Balfour #2
The Savant’s loyalty was always to the highest bidder.
Anyone who did business with him knew that.
Which meant someone had reached him before her.
And that someone had paid him handsomely to send her to Port Talluah, to this ship.
This moment had been bought and sold before she’d even stepped foot inside the Savant’s house of trinkets.
Because, for whatever reason, someone wanted Domwell St. Lucius dead.
This wasn’t a heist. It was an execution. And she was the headsman’s axe.
The only questions were who wanted him dead, and why was it worth paying off the Savant to send her to do it?
The floodgate shuddered as the light rushed to assist her with carrying out the task. But she reinforced the crystal barrier. Reya didn’t need her magic. Not for this.
“If you believe the stories,” Reya said, “then you know that this army you’ve acquired will not be enough to kill me.”
Lennox’s lessons rang in her ear: Don’t just have one exit strategy. Have ten. Imagine every possible outcome and prepare for each one. To expect the worst is to survive.
Beneath her, the ship groaned. They were moving.
“Oh, I have no intention of killing you. At least not yet,” he added with an appreciative look. “I suggest you get comfortable, my dear. It’s a two-day journey across the Heart Sea.”
“I’m not leaving this bay, and neither are you.”
“Is that so?”
“Surely you boys have no wish to die today,” Reya addressed the assembled force. “As it is, you’re not going to get paid—since his head is about to hit the deck.” She pointed her dagger at St. Lucius in silent promise.
Some of the men chuckled. The rest were smart enough to keep their mouths shut.
“No takers?” She shrugged, twirling the blades in her palms. “Fine. More fun for me.”
“Your arrogance is absolutely breathtaking,” St. Lucius said as he drank her in, his eyes alight with victory as they raked over every part of her.
“I understand why Raulin treasures you so. I wonder what he would offer for your return. Or perhaps, when we’re through, I should send word to his majesty instead. ”
Two mercenaries aimed their crossbows while another two slowly moved in on her right and left. The one on her right was taller than the rest and had the bearing of a leader.
It was the longest moment of her life, watching him grip the hilt of her father’s sword and pull it free of its sheath.
It all but killed her to let him take it, to buy herself the seconds she needed.
She waited for him to meet her gaze, hands shaking with the will it took not to bury her steel in his heart, and said without inflection, “You’ll die first.”
Smiling, he stepped back into line as two more men moved in.
“Set down the blades,” the one on her left instructed.
Reya didn’t take her eyes off St. Lucius. “I’ll be taking that back in about thirty seconds.”
He gave another pompous laugh, and this time, his men joined in.
She took one last look around the room, memorizing the details, their positions, before adding, “Give or take ten.” The ship jolted as the sails caught the wind, and she threw down the vial she’d freed from her sleeve. Black smoke erupted through the room, plunging the world into darkness.
They called it the Aether.
The mercenaries shouted as it blinded them, trapped in by the balcony door she’d been sure to shut behind her.
Eyes closed and head cocked to listen, Reya tossed up one of the daggers from her boot, caught the blade, and threw.
She knew by the clatter of her father’s steel hitting the floor that she’d struck true.
I did warn you. Then she began her dance.
The hired killers didn’t know which way to turn, didn’t see her coming until she was in front of them, sweeping in and out of the darkness, fighting knives swinging, like a reaper in the flesh.
She drew her steel across throat after throat. By the time the smoke began to dissipate and the men could see her movements, it was too late. Through the curling wisps of black air, Reya looked straight at St. Lucius.
“Kill her!” he commanded as the last of the smog cleared. But there was no one left to command. His panicked eyes scanned the floor, where his fallen army lay. Twelve men.
She traded her knives for her sword, grabbed the weapons dealer by the tunic, and slammed him into the wall of the cabin. “I’m a woman of my word.”
“Please,” he sputtered, gripping her wrist. “Don’t kill me.”
Reya pressed the tip of the blade against his collarbone. “Where is the Kraken blood?”
“What?”
“Does it exist?” Reya demanded, shaking him.
“There is no such thing!” he said, face turning red. “It’s just a legend!”
Truth.
No. Reya threw him to the floor with a strength she was only just beginning to explore, chest heaving. Air wouldn’t come fast enough. The floodgate splintered, and her fingers began to glow. She took a step, smearing red beneath her boot.
“No, wait! We can find it together. Please!” He lifted himself and extended one hand between them in the universal sign to halt, as if that would do anything. “You’ll be rich beyond your wildest imaginings!”
Lie.
He crawled on his hands and knees through the pools of blood and piles of dead, a coward practically daring the monster that fed on the darkest parts of her soul to rise to the surface.
The monster conjured the faces of her beloved dead, pulled up every terrible thing that had ever been done to her.
She saw Lennox’s face as he taught her the meaning of pain, remembered how it felt to be helpless and alone and the vow she’d made never to be so again, and slammed her foot down on the weapons dealer’s back.
He would have made you a plaything. He’s likely done the same to others.
There was blood everywhere—on her hands, her leathers, her face, the floor. Not a day had passed in the last ten years that she had not been covered in it. Reya imagined her parents looking down from the stars, felt their eyes on her like a brand.
And she was ashamed.
But this was the life she’d chosen—the game all who lived in shadows played—and there was no place in it for mercy. St. Lucius was a threat, and if she didn’t end it here, it would follow her. It was as simple as that.
Whoever had betrayed her had been counting on it.
So she brought her father’s blade down on St. Lucius’s neck.
His head rolled, tipping his face up to hers. Reya closed her eyes. When she opened them again, his were finally empty. Never let it be said that she didn’t keep her promises.
Leaping over the carnage, she ran for the rear balcony of the ship, which had sailed beyond the safety of the harbor. A cloudless sunrise spilled over the pale blue horizon, painting the world in soft gold.
The jagged cliffs along the coast were the closest body of land now. They would have to do.
Ripping off her mask and throwing it to the wind, Reya sheathed her sword and strapped it tight. Then she dove, and the ocean swallowed her whole. Ears popping, she sank into the depths, pushing hard, fighting the tide that threatened to pull her farther out.
For a moment, there was only the surge of the waves, the bubbles tickling her skin, and the taste of salt and blood on her tongue—blood that was now swirling in the water around her.
A school of fish darted out of her path, and sand swirled up from the sea floor.
Time sped up and she kicked hard, chest tightening.
Reya broke through the surface with a gasp, and immediately closed her eyes as a wave crashed over her.
She couldn’t see the way back to shore, couldn’t think. Saltwater burned her throat. Beyond the breakwaters protecting Briony Bay from the Heart Sea, the churning ocean showed her no mercy.
I will keep my distance, Caelan had told her. I won’t interfere unless you signal me.
Reya lifted her hand to the sky and out of the water as she let down the floodgate.
Like a shooting star, her power shot into the dawn before another wave fell.
She rolled with the current, no longer bothering to fight it, and let the power radiate across her skin, setting her body aglow against the darkness of the sea. A beacon for Caelan to find.
There was no part of her that doubted he would. She trusted no one with her heart, but she trusted Caelan with her life.
Lennox would have cursed her for a fool.
A raven shrieked as she broke through the frothing surface, her own cry echoing it when she saw Caelan flying overhead, wings flapping wildly in the sea breeze, showing her the way. She had her heading.
Arms slapping against the water, she fought against the weight of her steel, her every thought narrowed to one single task: get to shore.
Reya didn’t know how long she swam until finally, the ocean slammed her into the rocks.
She gasped at the pain, and seawater filling her lungs.
Then there were hands pulling her out of the water and onto a sea stump.
Those same hands turned her onto her side, and she coughed up the water she’d just inhaled.
“Are you hurt?” Caelan asked. “What happened?”
When she caught her breath, she turned to where the Balfour was still sailing out to sea. “It was a setup.” The words caught in her throat. “The blood was never on the ship.”
His eyes lost their focus, and he fell back a step at her words, just one, like he’d never even thought to doubt her.
The silent despair in his stance had her opening and closing her mouth, but no words came.
She could do nothing but sit there on her knees, watching the ship get smaller and smaller and listening to the waves crash against the rocks.
The Kraken blood, if it had ever existed at all, was lost. And so was her freedom.