15 A Messenger #2
The room went quiet. She looked at their faces, so grave, and a laugh tickled the edge of her throat. She pressed a palm to her forehead, shaking her head to chase it away. “She was likely killed first,” she added quickly, praying that speaking would help stop the laughter from surfacing.
What was wrong with her?
“How do you know this?” Erryn asked sceptically.
“We saw it happen in Anhaven,” Elijah said quickly.
Vaelira gave him a small smile, grateful to have been spared answering that particular question.
Willem groaned and stood. “I’m getting us all a drink.” He crossed to the small cart in the corner, clinking bottles together and pouring generously.
“I didn’t think possession was still possible,” Erryn said. “There aren’t any dark wielders left to perform that sort of magic.”
“That we know of,” Elijah said. ‘Things are escalating. There’s been multiple summoning’s in the city.
A possession in Anhaven. A minor demon risked attacking us on the road,” he shook his head, “which makes no sense. It must have known on some level that it stood no chance against the three of us. Now possessions are happening here? It’s building to something. ”
“We need to stop it before it does,” Axel said.
“No point looking beyond New Town,” Willem muttered. “That’s where all the scum are.”
Vaelira glanced at him as he handed out full glasses. Dark circles framed his narrow eyes, and she was struck by how much older he looked than his years. He was young, but had clearly seen, and perhaps done, more unspeakable things than any boy his age. Any man even.
She thought of the alley. Of the small, black-veined body left behind. Someone had loved that person, the same way she had loved Jon. Now their family would never know what happened.
She took the drink Willem handed her. A long gulp warmed her throat and chased the thought away.
“That’s not entirely true,” said Erryn. “If the relics were stolen from the palace, they had help. Connections. We need to check every area.”
“The relics could be moving from anywhere, regardless of summoning locations,” Elijah said. “Axel and Willem will take New Town. Erryn and Vaelira Old Town. I’ll take Vaelira with me to the Noble Quarter when I’m out of court.”
Erryn frowned. “It makes more sense for me to go with you. Vaelira’s not supposed to be this far into the city. She complicates things.”
She wasn’t wrong, but it still stung.
“No,” Elijah said, eyes fixed on Vaelira. “I need her with me.”
Her heart skipped and his lips quirked, like he’d heard it.
“Someone’s moving the relics,” he said. “We need to find them and question them.”
“Torture?” Axel asked.
The fire popped in the grate. A log shifted and fell.
“If it comes to it.”
She expected revulsion. Instead, a cold calm settled over her. Whoever was helping raise demons deserved it. A smile tugged at her lips.
No one spoke.
Vaelira drained the last of her drink and rose, the air heavy with the unspoken truth of what they’d all agreed to.
By the time she and Elijah slipped from the townhouse, the streetlamps had dimmed to a dull glow and mist crept over the damp cobblestones.
They walked in silence, hoods drawn low.
Every passerby felt like a threat. Every window, a watching eye.
Elijah stayed close, his warmth bleeding through her cloak.
“How did Erryn get involved in all of this?” Vaelira asked.
Elijah glanced down, his face shadowed. “We grew up together,” he said, slipping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in. His gaze lingered on a man lurking in an alley.
Vaelira wrapped her arm around Elijah’s waist. A couple out for a late-night stroll. Nothing to see here.
“You know her father?” she said, hoping he couldn’t feel her heart racing.
“I do. He’s not too fond of me, but the sentiment is mutual.”
“How come?”
“When we were kids, he caught us kissing.”
A tightness coiled in her chest. It was stupid and illogical, and she stiffened, annoyed at herself for caring.
Elijah gave a low chuckle. “We were thirteen, and it only happened once. It was like kissing a sister. It was never me she was interested in anyway.”
Vaelira relaxed slightly. “Who was she interested in?”
He squeezed her shoulder, turning his face enough to hide his expression. “A story for another time.”
She tried to imagine Elijah as a boy. Awkward and overconfident, fumbling through a first kiss.
She could see it. His hair longer and unkempt, voice still finding its depth, mischief softening the sharp lines that time and authority had since carved into his face. A boy before the weight of the title.
The image lingered as they turned down another street, and something inside her shifted. The shroud of the prince, the untouchable figure who had swept into her life cloaked in secrets and status, peeled away. What remained was just a man.
A man who broke rules and pushed limits, who risked everything for causes that might burn him in return. A man whose slightest touch felt like more than it should.
She kept her eyes on the road ahead, trying not to let her thoughts spiral. Whatever this was, it couldn’t matter. Not with everything else going on. They turned onto another street, and she recognised where he was leading her.
“The Western Gate?” she asked.
“This way’s longer, but if you enter through the barracks on this side, you’ll be seen. If not by Jurah, then by my mother’s spies.”
As they neared the gate, he pushed back his hood. Moonlight lit his features. A strong brow, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and full, curving lips. Maybe she didn’t mind walking a little longer after all.
Old Town felt like a different city compared to the Noble Quarter. People filled the streets, arms linked as they strolled aimlessly. Laughter echoed between stone buildings, and pipe smoke curled on the wind.
The Seven Squids was still packed. Music drifted from its open doors, undercut by clinking glasses and conversation.
A woman stumbled down the steps, calling out to someone below.
He caught her before she fell, and she shrieked with laughter, throwing her arms around his neck as he swept her back inside.
It felt like a world untouched by black veins or burnt corpses, where no one went missing in the dark.
By the time they reached the quieter street that led to the barracks, Vaelira felt more awake than when they’d left the townhouse. Elijah slid his arm from her shoulder, and a shiver ran through her at its absence. “You’ll meet Galfri soon,” he said as they neared the gate.
“When?” she said, a smile breaking across her face.
“I’ll send word.” Elijah’s eyes were bright as he looked down at her.
He gave her a wink and stepped forward, murmuring something to the guard.
The gate swung open silently and she passed through, glancing back.
The guard stood with his head down, a torch in one hand, a heavy-looking coin purse in the other. Elijah was already walking away.
Her thoughts spiralled as she climbed the stairs to the dormitory. She was finally going to get answers. Maybe even a way to control the power that simmered within her.
As she walked down the hallway, she slowed. A dark figure huddled against the door to her room.
Ressa.
Her cloak was laid in her lap, her cheek resting against the wood. As Vaelira approached, Ressa jerked awake, eyes locking with hers in the dark.
“Where in the Abyss have you been?” Ressa hissed.
Vaelira took a step back.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay after this morning,” Ressa continued, rising to her feet and stepping towards her.
Vaelira stiffened at the memory of Kolborn’s fist slamming into her gut. “I was in the courtyard,”
“Don’t lie to me.”