Chapter 2
Raiden
The duke’s thin blood had made for the perfect painting medium. At first, the way he bled without clotting came as a surprise, but after years of gutting these scumbags, I’ve learned to think on my feet.
Even in the dark, I can tell the clear water runs red the moment I dunk my hands into the bucket. I use a cloth under my nails to remove the blood that’s dried there.
“Do you think they’ll get the message, sir?” Baltas, my second-in-command, asks from behind me.
No.
“Hard to tell with this lot. It’s like they’re all under some trance. Or they simply refuse to see what’s clearly in front of them.” The skin of my hands feels raw from scrubbing at this point.
“It’s difficult to recognize anything outside yourself when the world is burning,” he reasons.
A disapproving grunt is my only acknowledgement. They’re all a bunch of cowards, letting it get this bad. Sitting by while The Smog sucks the life out of every living thing.
“Not all of us can be as self-sacrificing and noble as you,” Baltas teases as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Self-sacrificing. The reminder cuts through me. The deal I had to make with a neighboring kingdom in order to secure an alliance and their army in the battles to come.
“It was never my intention to sacrifice anything,” I confess, wiping my hands dry on my trousers.
Baltas places a hand on my shoulder, and I’m grateful for the reassuring touch.
It grounds me back into reality after participating in the inhumane mutilation of fae.
Even if they were conspiring with Queen Daphne to further her dark, deathly grip on my home, it’s difficult to separate my true self from the monster I’ve had to become.
Every death is a tragic loss, and Baltas knows it tears at what’s left of my soul. My hands may be clean, but my conscience never will be.
He is my best friend, and I never would have made it this far without him.
“It is not something to be ashamed of, Majesty.”
I blanch at the formality of his words and look around to see if anyone heard, but there’s not a single fae nearby.
“Please, don’t.”
Baltas chuckles. “I make no promises.”
I have to jump a little to wrap my arm around his neck, playfully hooking it at the throat. “I make no promises to keep you alive, you little shit,” I say, messing his hair and releasing my hold.
“Little my ass! How about a drink, then?” he offers.
I shake my head. “Not tonight.”
I back down the tunnel toward my sleeping quarters, glancing over my shoulder to ensure I don’t run into anyone.
“You’re startin’ to be a heaping pile of no fun, is what you are,” Baltas yells after me.
“Not when there’s work to be done. We’ve a kingdom to acquire.” But it’s only a half truth. I’ll treat him to a pint or two tomorrow evening. When I know she’ll be there after a long day of working, training, and surviving in this fucked-up world.
The one selfish thing I allow myself is her.
FROM MY SHADOWY perch in the corner of the dimly lit bar, I sit with my feet kicked up on the thick wooden table, watching. My glass tankard of amber liquid drips with sticky foam.
The healer walks in with the captain of the Queen’s Guard.
One long, mud-colored braid hangs over her shoulder. She’s tall and curvy, and her skin lacks color from a lifetime without the sun.
Her leathers are caked in muck, but she still looks prepared to take down any assailant at the drop of a pin. Her muscles are tight, and her head is on a swivel. I’ve only been watching her for a short while, but I’ve learned enough to know she can handle her own.
Her presence is intoxicating, but it’s those familiar green eyes that have me watching her every move. A reminder that she’s doubly off-limits. I trace the outline of her curves all the way down to what brought me to her in the first place. That fucking dagger.
I gulp down half my drink and scan the place once more. Baltas still hasn’t arrived, and I’m starting to think he’s stood me up.
When my eyes track back to the healer, she’s made her way to the dance floor. Instinctively, I slowly uncross my legs and set them on the ground, prepared to pounce if anyone dares to touch her.
I have no right to feel possessive over her, but the unruly beast within me, even dulled as it is by the curse, insists.
She sways her hips, and I can’t help but notice how free she looks. It’s the only time those lines don’t crease her forehead, and her entire body isn’t tense, waiting for a fight.
Placing my elbows on the table and lacing my fingers together, I set my chin on the grooves they form.
She makes it three more steps before I’m pushing off the top of the table, grinding my boots into the concrete as I drive the chair backward to stand.
That thing inside me snaps when the captain reaches out to grab her.
“Going somewhere?” Baltas steps into focus, and I lose sight of the girl.
“Hmm?” I ask distractedly as I struggle to look around my mammoth-sized friend.
She’s got the dagger against the man’s throat. Her jade-green eyes are full of fury.
A dark chuckle escapes me; this snake is deadly.
Baltas looks over his shoulder, then back at me. “I said it looks like you’re leaving. Am I late?”
“Oh. No. Have a seat. Let’s order another round,” I say as I lower myself back into the chair, satisfied knowing the healer can fend for herself.
I don’t love the way she gives in to the soldier, nor do I relish the fact that she has another drink. My stupid fucking baser instinct is to protect her, but it would be nice if she’d make it just a hair easier by staying sober and keeping her wits about her.
Before Baltas returns with our drinks, the booming tenor of his voice reaches me, and I just know the loud crashing sound has something to do with him.
Heading toward the commotion, I slink back when I realize the healer has come to aid the young fae who was clearly collateral damage.
Fascination and awe engulf me as she heals the small wound. That’s more magic than many in this land can wield.
I wonder if she knows exactly how special she is.
“We ought to go.” Baltas’ eyes are wide but full of mischief as he all but runs past me to the door.
I try to give him a look of disapproval, but fail to compose myself. “What did you do?”
He throws me a wink over his shoulder as he pushes into the street.
A quick look tells me there are some angry soldiers patrolling the tavern, undoubtedly looking for Baltas.
When I stumble out the door, Baltas grabs me by the neck and pulls me into an alley.
When his hand covers my mouth, I freeze.
He’s the only person alive who can get away with covering my mouth, but it still surprises me when he does it.
I struggle against him a little, until he hisses quietly in my ear, “Shut your stupid mouth!”
The tavern door creaks open. I hold my breath, expecting the soldiers to find us in an instant. A cough scratches at the back of my throat, and I swallow to fight it off.
Instead, soft footsteps and a familiar feminine shadow pass by.
Baltas releases me, and I make a show of wiping myself off.
“For a princeling, you are fairly terrible at self-preservation. Had I been an enemy, your head would be separated from your body in an instant,” he scolds me.
I glare at him. “You’re one to talk! Pissing off the soldiers when they outnumbered us by so much.”
Peeking down the cobblestone street, I catch a glimpse of the healer as she heads out of town. I know that I shouldn’t, but I’m dying to follow her.
“Sorry to ruin your evening, but they were running their damned mouths, and I couldn’t help myself,” Baltas says. “Shall we head back for the Underground?”
My conscience is battling between ending the night and tracking the healer, and my baser instincts win.
“You go ahead. I’ll meet you there in a little while.”
Baltas gives me a knowing grin, and disappears into the shadows. Maybe he’s more aware of my motivations than I give him credit for.
The stagnant air of this kingdom is dense and suffocating. I don’t know how these people live in this shit. It reminds me of the smoke from the forest fires they sometimes have in Clestraya. Except here there’s nothing to douse it out. The toxins are unending.
I take every precaution to keep whatever tiny particles of the dark magic out of my system I can, even going so far as to cover my mouth and nose with a piece of fabric I tie around my neck to keep from breathing in the Smog.
I trail her over the bridge and wonder what has her so distracted that she hasn’t noticed she’s being watched. Or maybe she knows but is addicted to the thrill of her own fear.
Crunch.
Shit.
I summon what I can of my stifled powers to shield myself as she turns and stares right through where I stand behind her.
My pulse thrums in my neck, and I’m trying to keep my breath slow and even. Breathing is something I’ve taken for granted. It’s so much harder here.
Her wide, frantic eyes dart around, scanning for danger. I swear I can almost taste the metallic flavor of her panic.
Finally, she composes herself and walks into the dilapidated shack she calls home. I’ve considered burning it to the ground to force her into a more suitable living space, but the risks are too great. And I don’t want to be responsible for her losing anything more than she already has.
I listen with clenched fists, helpless as her sad excuse for a mother assaults her. Then I count the seconds it takes her to climb the stairs to her room.
Four … Five … Six.
A light on the second floor shines through the sheer curtains of her bedroom window, and my fae hearing recognizes the sound of a lock moving into place.
The shape of her silhouette glides past the window as she changes into more comfortable clothes. I stay until the flame of her lantern weakens, and I’m certain she must be sleeping soundly.
Nothing can come of this seedling of obsession planted within me. I know that. Still, I cannot help but wonder what life would look like if I could put aside the obligations thrust upon me and be selfish, just for once.
She would never have to fall asleep with the light on again.