20. （Mission）ary
(Mission)ary
Shadows stretched in the smoky din. I slunk around the hanging roots of the banyan tree with blue Mist swirling around my ankles. Everything glowed with a silver shimmer, and I couldn’t tell if it was real or a drug-fueled hallucination.
Dancers spun above on their silks, and whispers followed me as I floated past, coalescing into a buzzing drone.
“It’s her.”
“The newest Knight.”
“The Bear.”
“She captured a Royal Mage.”
“Savage Northerner.”
“Dangerously attractive.”
“Did you see her silver scar?”
Southerners watched from all around, laughing, drunk on their fairy wine. I observed it all from afar, detached, high out of my mind, as they basked in the rush of seduction.
On the surface, it was just a normal establishment, but I could smell it on them—they were drinking their way through the Storm Wars. They were either idiots or geniuses, maybe both.
It was getting harder to maneuver through space and time. Bones congealing, I melted away, splendidly, sluggishly scintillated. Petals drifted softly through the fragrant air, and I reached for one, but my hand was empty.
Are they real?
Nothing was clear.
Surrealism mounted as gentle, sublime sounds filled the humid air. High above in the leafy branches, the musicians played a delicate tune. Movement flickered, and I pivoted with maximum effort—pale features and blond hair flashed in the dark. Perfect. Just as I planned.
The man turned, unmasked face exposed.
I made a show of stumbling sluggishly and ducked behind a thick hanging root, collapsing back against the bark.
Sibrain Cortz thought he was stalking me.
But I was luring him in.
From the quick glimpse I’d gotten, his platinum hair hung long down his back in soft waves, at odds with the harsh planes of his facial features.
He’d abandoned his creed, and the face of a Royal Mage was unsettling to see in all its glory.
It had felt voyeuristic, wrong, to peer so freely upon the mysterious Empire elite. He’s definitely a spy.
The scent of his magic hit me first—cowardice?
“Why are you hiding, beautiful?” a masculine voice purred as Sibrain raised a light eyebrow and stepped into my alcove, invading my personal space.
Just like I planned. He spoke with a modern cadence and a hint of an accent.
He wore nothing but silky white shorts; his attire should have been attractive.
He inspired . . . boredom. Droll ennui.
Nothing about him startled or provoked my thoughts. No adrenaline rush stole my breath. We stood eye to eye and had similar builds, but he was devoid of all contrast, bland, a washed-out man who would never reach the terrifying glory of his contemporaries.
Sensations whispered across my throat.
Silver flashed.
Oh.
His fingers were outstretched and pointing at my neck. Realization dawned like molasses. Unlike when Tarantula used his wind powers, I barely noticed it happening. Sibrain was asphyxiating me with his magic, and I hadn’t even realized.
I tipped my head to the side and studied him up close. This was a good chance to practice my hunting. It’s been too long.
His eyes narrowed as if he was confused why I wasn’t making a Shield and fighting back like a Knight. Lantern lights warped into halos backlighting us in a warm haze of magic.
“So . . . this is the girl our illustrious Emperor was so obsessed with. How intriguing,” Sibrain said softly, his accent nonexistent if not for a tiny inflection on his consonants.
His oily gaze fixated on my silver scar.
“Did you know, he used to go on and on about you? He even had a portrait of your face, hanging above his royal bed. We all thought he’d lost his mind.
How could he be so bedeviled by a peasant girl? It didn’t make sense then.”
He took a step closer.
“And then . . . you dared to reject him.” He held up two fingers. “Twice.”
I leaned away from him, trying not to inhale his putrid scent of cowardice.
He pursed his lips mockingly. “Did you know, it’s all your fault? You broke his heart, left him devastated . . . hopeless. And he grew more . . . sadistically inclined by the day.”
Men loved to blame women for their evil, like it would absolve them. It didn’t. I held my breath, which was surprisingly difficult, since he was also trying to choke me.
“How did you get this magical scar?” He reached for my face. “You’ve been marked. Do you know you’re being . . . watched?” He looked around as if searching for someone.
I batted his hand away.
He’s just trying to scare me.
Unconcerned, Sibrain continued his villainous monologue.
“All that tender obsession became dark. Tainted. It didn’t surprise me when he put a bounty on your head—you broke him.
” His freezing fingers wrapped around my neck.
“There’s something . . . despicable . . .
dangerous about you. How impressed he’ll be when I claim the bounty on your head.
” He smiled wider, his light blue eyes deranged.
His nails dug into my sensitive skin, closing my already constricting throat.
“First—a taste.”
I let him come to me.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Wetness brushed against my lips, and I jolted as Sibrain dragged his open mouth across my chin and lower to my neck. His gross tongue swept out, licking.
Wait for the right moment.
My temples throbbed. A sound creaked above.
Water poured over us like an irrigation pipe had burst above in the tree. It rained down, drenching both of us in my magic. My hair was soaking wet, sticking to my skin. Puddles grew at our feet. Oops. I tried to pretend it wasn’t me, hiding my hands behind my back.
Sibrain pulled away from my neck and looked up with confusion, searching for the source.
I leaned forward, falling into him as if I’d passed out.
Now.
He took a step back, staggering for a second under my dead weight. I kicked my leg up to my butt as I leaned, grabbed the dagger in my boot, and thrust. I stabbed upward, straight through his gonads, and pulled the knife back.
“Filthy scum.” He shoved me away, slamming my head back against the tree with a wet crunch, and I saw stars. He lunged, teeth bared, eyes manic, long blond hair soaking.
I might be suffocating, drugged, and partially blinded from pain, but I was no man’s victim. Hand cramping from fisting the hilt with all my strength, I shoved the dagger up into his stomach with everything I had.
Blood gushed between us.
He grappled for the slick hilt, trying and failing to yank it out of my steady hand. He was gravely injured but still alive. Pulling the knife back, arm straightened, I flung my hand up in an arc.
Sibrain gurgled, blood spraying from his lips onto my face as my dagger speared through the side of his neck.
Fighting, he threw me back harder, and my head cracked loudly against the tree trunk for the second time.
Damn him. Sharp pain radiated down my neck, but I held on to my dagger and yanked him with me.
He leaned against me, lips sputtering crimson, nails clawing at my wrist in a perverse embrace as I pressed my dagger deeper into his neck, trying to sever his spinal cord. He deserves it.
I pushed the blade—
The world abruptly changed.
Cold replaced humidity, and I was leaning against the wide trunk of an ice-covered pine tree. Needles clattered in the wind high above where the branches started. Snowy flakes drifted lazily, covering the Barren Forest in a solemn hush. The world was white, cold, and mystical.
My teeth chattered.
Sibrain was skewered in my arms, his blood covering both of our chests and necks. Red splattered obscenely across the pristine snow at our feet. Nails dragged painfully along my wrist.
The flares of agony brought me back to the man who stared at me with wide eyes, struggling to dislodge my dagger from his neck.
Snow gathered on his hair and bare shoulders.
His breath came out as a frosty cloud, while mine was basically nonexistent, still partially strangled by his magic. He’s so pathetic.
Icy branches clattered above. I pushed Sibrain away and looked around, desperate to figure out why this kept happening. There has to be some reason— A single red rose glistened in the snowflakes.
Why the rose?
Using my distraction, Sibrain seized my throat much harder than before with his magic in a last-ditch effort to avoid certain death.
Humidity and music returned, and the lantern-covered branches of the banyan tree twinkled above our heads. Sibrain stumbled back into the smoky darkness. A pile of snow melted atop his head. How is this possible?
Bark scraped my spine as I slid down the tree trunk to the floor, clutching my neck, lungs burning. My skin was ice to the touch, prickling painfully as it adjusted to the sudden heat. I stared down at my bright red hands with confusion.
“Today I’ll be the one with all the satisfaction,” Sibrain said through gritted teeth. Snarling in agony, he ripped my dagger from his neck. In slow motion, he stabbed it toward me—
I started to roll away, but his arm stopped, the blade inches from my cheek as he struggled against an invisible force. His hair blew straight back from his head as if he stood in a wind tunnel.
I clutched at my blocked airway.
The scent of murderous delights filled the air, mixing with the floral aroma.
My vision blackened at the edges, and the world warped in a silvery haze.
Sibrain stood frozen above me with my dagger still outstretched, blood pouring from his neck wound.
His eyes flicked down to mine, hatred seething in their depths.
Snap. Sibrain’s raised arm broke back at a gruesome angle. Magic wrapped around my dagger, pulling it out of his hand, and it drifted down slowly like a feather, lying gently on my lap as I clawed at my neck.
Need air. Need air. Need air.