Chapter 4
The sun was shining too brightly for the mood I was in, during one of those afternoons on a day blending together with all the others.
I was more a passive passenger than a rider on top of my horse, since my eyes kept threatening to fall shut.
If my state irritated my mount I couldn’t tell, but I’d already decided he’d get more treats than usual later.
“Dion. We will soon be reaching the Ivreiana city walls. You should sort your Glamour out.”
Shaking my head to dispel the fog lingering from my nap, I straightened in confusion and looked at Antas. “What do you mean?”
“You are losing half of your human appearance, and the closer we get to the capital, the more likely someone will take note of you and notice your ears peeking out.”
“Fuck.” The unsettled binding, combined with the magical burnout, really had done a number on me. Gods, how I despised being so weak. How others were able to exist so pathetically limited was more than a mystery to me.
I reached deep inside me to the space where the pitiful remains of my powers lounged like a lazy kitten and did what my uncle had asked me to.
By the time my human Glamour sat firmly in place again, I was sweating, and my energy was hissing and complaining. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say even my magic was angry with me for losing Nayana and was acting like a petulant child to punish me.
The towers of the royal castle in Ivreia’s capital, Ivreiana, appeared on the horizon, but I could only dwell on my mission and on destroying the King of Merchants.
“We have to be cautious, in case there is a trap waiting for us.”
I nodded to Antas. “Yes. The trail we followed was too distinct and too intentional; also, bringing a prisoner to the most obvious place possible is more than obnoxious.”
“You should hide in the background.”
I snorted in disgust. “Do you even know me? I just need a suitable weapon. This old sword doesn’t even deserve to be called one.”
With my strength non-existent, I could forget using my beloved arsenal of magically conjured weapons, no matter how much this admission pained me.
Soon after we’d left the dingy inn I’d woken up in after the disaster of Amalach, Antas had given me a steel sword, which had been crafted by a master armorer according to my uncle, but either the blade’s creation had been a millennium ago, or someone should introduce the Ivreian manufacturing industry to a modicum of standards.
Even I would undoubtedly be able to forge a better sword.
Not that I’d ever spent a single day of my life around a smithy, but honestly, how hard could shaping scraps of metal over a fire be?
“Then at least repose while the rest of us search for information.”
“We’ll see about that.” I had no intention of staying in whatever hovel we’d end up in.
Of course, I could trust my comrades, but they’d proven time and time again how their methods of gathering clues were lacking in delivery and results. They missed the certain ruthlessness necessary for the job—and why bother with scouting when we knew where they detained my human?
Since I vibrated from the inside because of pure frenetic vexation, there was a fifty-fifty chance I’d just bolt to Feroy’s headquarters the moment we’d passed the gates. Considering the suspicious glances from my comrades, they were well aware.
But if they believed they had any right to hold me back, they’d soon learn that reluctant allies ranked far below her on my list of priorities.
Silence reigned until we reached the city gates.
We didn’t have to wait long for our turn to present our fake papers. I observed the Ivreian men closely. Had one of them permitted the merchant to enter the city, allowing him to bring my Nayana with him? My hand twitched with the compulsion to draw my sword and find out.
“Oi, Frida. Come over,” the guard controlling me barked to his left, and I frowned.
My soldiers looked slightly alarmed, and I wondered if this was the moment that would justify blood raining down on Ivreiana. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth at the image.
“Is there a problem?” I asked, eyebrow raised.
“No sir. I called my colleague because he was hoping to pass you a message.”
A burly man with auburn hair hurried toward us before I could run through different scenarios—one worse than the other—in my head.
The additional guard’s uniform told me he outranked the one who’d checked my papers, and the newcomer dismissed the other with a wave of his hand.
To my surprise, all men started to vacate our surroundings, and the supervisor waited for everyone to be out of earshot before turning to me, lifting his hands up in a peaceful gesture.
What was going on here?
“Excuse me, Sir Cantor, but my brother asked me to deliver a message. Well, if you can answer me one single question.”
“What question?”
“What is your real name?”
A thousand warning bells went off in my head. “And why has your brother reason to presume I have another name than the one on my documents?”
“Because if that’s the case, he has important information for you.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t want to be caught in a river of red.”
This smelled like a trap. But on the off-chance this relative of his was genuine, risking exposure could presumably mean intel. And if not, deceit would give me the best reason to let out my anger and frustration, even if I had to use the miserable excuse of a sword. “I’m called Dion.”
The guard named Frida nodded, and it was apparent he’d gotten exactly the answer he’d been waiting for.
“Tonight, when the night watch starts patrolling the streets, meet my brother Nancy in the meat-packer district. You’ll find him in a well-known tavern named “The Thirsty Seneschal”.
Ask one of the barmaids to lead you into the backroom and inform her about your wish to tempt fate because the cards are lucky tonight.
And of course, you’re free to bring your company. ”
Nodding, I memorized the instructions. My suspicions didn’t settle down, though. For all I knew, this was a well-executed ploy, but I was intrigued enough to indulge Frida and his brother Nancy.
Huh, now that I dwelled on this, their parents’ naming choices were odd.
Not that I’d fared better in that department.
But maybe this tiny spark of sympathy, raised by a mutual suffering under weird names, made me decide to humor the man and restrain myself until then.
“Do you also have any advice on which inn to stay at?”
“Yes. “The Weary Traveler”, between the Royal and the Merchant’s District, is a decent, central, and safe place. My distant cousin Wilma owns the venue.”
I curtly dipped my chin. “If you cross me, I’ll hunt you down as well as everyone you hold dear.”
“Gods, Nancy didn’t exaggerate,” Frida muttered, and I showed him my teeth for good measure until he waddled away.
Ireas hadn’t been impressed by my attempts to bully him into accepting my refusal to relax, and he sent me to rest after we’d arrived at the inn.
As gentle as the young male was most of the time, the moment he donned his medic persona, he was as immovable as Eas, the mountain of life.
Still, I was too restless underneath my bone-deep fatigue and fought him tooth and nail until he dragged the others into my room and staged a fucking intervention.
Traitors, all of them.
I woke up a few hours later, trying to pinpoint when I’d fallen asleep in the first place. My brain was fuzzy, and confusion held me in its grip for longer than usual. The last I recalled was that my soldiers had stood between me and the door, insisting I should lie down and nap for a while.
And then—nothing.
I groaned as I sat up, and my eyes darted to the half-empty glass of water on the nightstand. Instantly, I understood what had transpired, and anger exploded in my gut. The fuckers must have given me some kind of sleeping draught.
Immediately, my shitlist expanded by three names—Thain was on that file for the longest time already—and I scowled.
Getting up, I hurled the glass with the remnants of the tonic against the wall before I spotted a note on the bedside table. My jaw was set tight as I picked up the paper.
Dion,
We will meet in the tavern’s backroom when it is time. Watch your Glamour.
A.
PS. This was necessary, so rein your temper in for once.
That my blood boiled in my veins was no surprise.
Once I’d reclaimed Nayana and my power, they’d learn that pissing me off during a vulnerable time entailed consequences. I’d have my revenge a thousand times over.
However, I changed my clothes and strapped the crappy sword to my belt. Again, I sulked because the weapon was clunky and carrying the blade around was inconvenient, but still, this was better than the alternative of leaving my room unarmed.
At last, I tucked Nayana’s midnight dagger into my boot and left the inn.
“I heard that the cards are lucky in the backroom today. I want to tempt fate.”
“Let me be your talisman, and you won’t regret your choice. Seriously, a man like you could bait me any day of the week.” My jaw tightened as the barmaid winked at me.
“Just show me where to go.” I didn’t care about this human who ogled me with unveiled heat in her eyes.
She attempted to direct my attention to her low neckline, but I tapped my foot impatiently in return.
Didn’t she realize she wasn’t appealing to me at all?
She wasn’t my type—after all, she wasn’t my Nayana.
“Through that door, sir. And if the cards turn out to be unfortunate, you can always ask for Chanarelle for a good time.”
“Not interested.”
“Do you prefer men?”
What I favored was none of her business, and I rolled my eyes. The tiny vibrations under my skin keeping me on edge intensified, telling me I had no time for such a matter of unimportance. So, I left the barmaid standing and stalked to the door.
A certain someone would surely spit into my drink, but I didn’t care.
Still better than being drugged by your own allies, in my opinion.
The backroom was surprisingly spacious and featured several tables prepared for gambling, although the furniture was unused at the moment.
The stale smell of cold tobacco, ale, and foul body odor had imprinted itself deeply into the walls. Curling my nose and dragging half of my upper lip up in disgust, I adjusted my breathing so I didn’t suffer too much under this olfactory challenge.
If I remembered correctly, gambling of all kinds was strictly forbidden in Ivreiana, so this den was highly illegal.
Surely, I’d heard about the why in one of the many lessons about Galanta’s nemesis—my grandfather’s words, not mine—I just didn’t care enough to pull out the memory from the back of my mind, especially not when the first face I spotted made me see red, and the vibrations inside of me boiled over.
The cadence of my warning growl would have raised the small hairs on the arms of anyone sane, and I wasn’t able to stop baring my teeth as my feet propelled me to the cause of my outburst.
Someone would die tonight.