Chapter 1
Scarlett
“You are sure he will be here tonight?” a cool female voice asked, bored from where its bearer perched on a low garden wall.
“I have tracked him for weeks,” replied a voice of silk and honey. “He will be here.”
“You said the same thing an hour ago,” the first snarled, flipping a dagger in her hand.
“Then why did you ask me the same godsdamned question?”
“Kindly remember I get him first.”
“You always do,” the second voice crooned.
“Enough. Both of you.” An icy, third, female voice cut in through the bickering.
If the moon were out at all that night, it would have illuminated the three figures who sat in the shadows on that garden wall, waiting.
Completely in black, from the boots to the hoods up over their heads, there were weapons gleaming on every inch of them.
Steel daggers and swords. Bows and arrows.
Hatchets and whips. Three women who knew how to use every single one of the weapons that adorned them with lethal efficiency.
Three women who knew how to use their bodies as weapons— in all the ways a woman could use her body.
Three women who were far more clever than most and that was perhaps their most valuable of weapons.
Three women who had been raised together.
Trained together. Three women feared by most. Nightmares come to life.
As it were, there was no moon out that night so the male, also dressed in black, did not see the women creeping along the wall as he passed them, despite constantly looking over his shoulder.
The male did not hear the feet landing behind him softer than a cat.
The male did not know he was not alone until a dagger was pressing into his back and that voice of silk and honey purred into his ear, “Hello, Dracon.”
The male swore and reached for his own blade at his side. Before his hand touched the hilt, the voice clicked her tongue. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“I’ve been waiting for you for weeks, you bitch,” the male sneered at her. “Ever since you let it be known that Death’s Shadow had begun trailing me.”
“Is that so?” she whispered softly.
“Yes, so let’s have it out like the trained professionals we are instead of you cowardly shoving a dagger through my back.”
“Hmm, as delightful as that does sound, I don’t think that will happen on this night.”
“Why not?”
The woman stepped back from him, releasing Dracon with a shove that had him stumbling a few steps. “Because tonight my sisters have joined me.” Even in the darkness, the woman could still see the male’s face drain of color.
“What?” he whispered.
A cruel smile spread across her face.
“One in particular has a score to settle with you.” The woman’s tone went dark and filled with wicked amusement as the other two women prowled from the shadows. She sniffed the air, her delicate nostrils flaring. “Why is it that you two make them piss themselves more than I do?”
“No.” The male’s breathing was ragged as he stumbled back from them. “No. I haven’t done anything to warrant this. No!”
“Well, that just isn’t true,” one of the women said sweetly as she stepped towards him.
“It is true! I’ve only done paying jobs. Just like you.” The male tripped over something as he backed away from them and fell to the stone ground. He continued to push himself away on his hands. “I’ve done nothing to warrant sending his Wraiths after me!”
The woman pulled a dagger from her side with a gloved hand, tapping the point against her fingertip. “He didn’t send us. Sometimes we collect our own debts, and I’ve been looking for you for a very long time.” Her voice was wildfire and snow and ice and shadows.
“Then clearly you lot aren’t as good as the rumors claim,” he sneered.
In less time than it took him to draw another breath, the dagger flew from her hand and went clear through his, pinning it to the ground beneath him.
He screamed in agony, reaching to pull out the dagger piercing him, but another boot came down on his other hand. He gasped around the pain.
“You’re right,” the woman who had thrown the dagger purred. “We’re better.”
The one he had called Death’s Shadow stalked toward him and wrenched the dagger from his hand. She tossed it back to the thrower, who caught it with ease, scowled, and grumbled, “Gods, it smells like him now.”
The other two women each hooked an arm under his shoulders and began dragging him along the path.
The male was kicking his booted feet, twisting to and fro, trying any way to break their hold on him.
They acted as if they were hauling a sack of potatoes.
They’d been trained extensively on how to handle his kind.
And how to kill them.
“Where are you taking me? Where are we going?” he cried.
“Death’s Maiden has questions for you,” the third woman said as they threw him against the low garden wall. It was overgrown with thick ivy and thorns, and the male yelped as they cut into his palms, his skin, his face.
“No. Please, no,” he begged. “I will take the third over her!”
Death’s Maiden crouched before him, tilting his head back with her finger to peer into his eyes. “Oh, Death Incarnate shall have her turn…when I am done with you.” There was nothing human in her eyes as she surveyed the male before her. “Seven years ago you were hired to kill my mother…and me.”
At those words, the man began trembling. “You— You are the daughter. You are the one who— You’ve been missing for the last seven years.”
“Apparently, I’ve been found.”
She plunged a dagger up through the bottom of the man’s foot, right through his boot. The tip came out the other side, slicing through the laces.
The male screamed again, sobbing. “It was a paying job. He tricked me. I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know who you were killing? That seems highly unlikely,” Death’s Maiden said with a laugh tinged with madness. She pulled another dagger from her boot as she remained crouching before him. “Who was with you that day?”
“I cannot say,” he sobbed again.
“Well, that is a pity,” she sighed. Then she brought that dagger down into the male’s thigh.
“I cannot say,” he cried, breathing through his teeth around the pain. “I am forbidden. I am bound by ancient blood magic. I cannot say.”
“Foolery,” the third, Death Incarnate, snapped. “There is no one here who can do such magic. Magic is not found here.”
“There is,” the male gasped. “I swear it!”
“He lies,” she snarled, bringing her eyes to meet Death’s Maiden’s.
“Perhaps he does. I don’t give a shit.” She stood. “We have hours to discover if he is indeed feeding us lies.” Dracon began thrashing again, writhing on the ground. “Tell me, Dracon, did you know that your Fae magic will not heal you here?”
Dracon was trembling violently now. “I didn’t know your mother was who she was until it was too late. I swear it!”
Death’s Maiden only smirked. “Do you remember exactly how you killed my mother? How you took her apart piece by piece? Because I do. I was hidden in a trash bin in that alley and saw the whole fucking thing.”
Dracon began whimpering as the other two women came to her side. The three of them stood gazing down at him, cruelty on every line of their faces. They all drew daggers from their cloaks and advanced.
Dracon’s screams began anew.
Scarlett Monrhoe woke to Dracon’s screams still echoing in her mind.
She rarely dreamt of that night anymore.
This dream was actually a happy memory. She was usually jarred from the depths of slumber by nightmares that had her drenched in sweat and her throat raw from screaming.
They were the reason she hadn’t slept well in months, so she wasn’t entirely surprised she’d fallen asleep in the middle of the day.
She sat draped over a chair with the early afternoon sun filtering into the parlor of the Tyndell Manor.
The tea she’d been sipping on had long since grown cold beside her.
The book she had been reading was still in her lap, open and waiting.
It was a rather old leather-bound book she’d stumbled upon a few days ago.
She’d been through the small Tyndell library numerous times and didn’t know how she’d missed the book when searching the shelves for something new, but there it had been, sticking out like a sore thumb on the shelf.
It was not just about the fallen kingdom of Avonleya.
That kingdom had been on a continent across the sea but had been defeated when they sought to overthrow King Deimas and Queen Esmeray.
The king and queen gave their lives for the war by using their magic to not only defeat and lock away the Avonleyans but also to protect them from the Fae Courts to the north and south of their human lands.
Their sacrifices had provided the humans protection from the Fae who desired to enslave the mortals that shared the continent.
This book, however, went into more detail about the conquered kingdoms: things she hadn’t been taught in her extensive studies, details about their strange magic, and the gods and long extinct bloodlines.
“Are you really going to just sit in here and read all day?” a young woman drawled from the doorway, her hip propped against the door frame.
Her golden hair was braided and swept to the side.
Scarlett smirked at Tava Tyndell, daughter of the Lord of the house.
The two girls were very different. Scarlett was all confidence and swagger.
Tava was entirely submissive and gentle on the outside, the way Ladies of nobility were trained to be from a young age, but she was clever enough and enjoyed getting into a little trouble with Scarlett every now and then.
The fact that Scarlett wasn’t raised in a noble household accounted for their stark differences, but the girls were friends nonetheless.
“Unless you have something better in mind, I’m quite content to lounge in the sun all day, thank you very much,” Scarlett replied, her attention turning back to the book.