Veil of Web and Ruin (The Hirathean Path)

Chapter 1

When you need help – really desperately need help – you’ll go to whatever lengths it takes to find it. And for me, that means going to Rula.

We thought we’d already hit rock bottom when we moved into the slums, but things got worse when Father died six months ago, and I understood quickly that the only way Kay and I were going to survive was by making friends.

Not the curl-up-together-and-talk-about-men-you-like-as-you-braid-one-another’s-hair kind. Not ones who try to pick you up on a low day or convince you that things aren’t as bad as they seem.

No, I’m talking about powerful friends. The type of friends who can stop you from coming home to find your place ransacked.

The type who can make sure you make it home alive in the first place.

The type who will get you a dagger when you need it and, if need be, be the one who stabs it in someone’s back for you, too.

That’s the type of friend Rula is. Though maybe ‘friend’ is the wrong word.

You can’t be friends with Rula, the same way you can’t make friends with a snake or an unbonded dire wolf; they all have that same unpredictable ruthlessness simmering just beneath the surface. But it’s not like I had a choice.

For Kay, I’d become best friends with a damned Issen and their forbidden ice magic. Whatever it takes to survive.

As I prepare to leave the house, my pockets are lined with half a dozen vials – tonics I’ve brewed using recipes from my mother’s precious notebook, tonics Rula will sell for the highest price she can.

Maybe, if she gets enough, I’ll even get a coin or two.

But what I actually get from Rula is something more valuable: protection. For me and, more importantly, for Kay.

‘Don’t go outside until I get back,’ I tell my little sister as I head out through our meagre scrap of a door. ‘I’ll try to pick up some food for us if I can.’

Kay looks longingly after me. ‘Why don’t I come to the market with you?’ she suggests lightly, like she hasn’t asked it every day of late. ‘See if I can get some work? I saw Talia and Ellen the other day. Maybe I could ask them to help me find something.’

‘No,’ I snap the word before softening my tone. ‘No, you don’t need to do that. I can make enough for both of us.’

‘But you’re not, Rose,’ she sighs. ‘You didn’t eat anything last night. I saw. You fed me, but you went to bed hungry. Again.’

Fuck. I’ve been trying to hide from her how tough it’s been these last few months, despite brewing every moment I get with the ingredients I can find, trying to create enough that Rula will give me coin or build up a surplus I can sell, quietly, myself.

The last thing I need is my sister feeling guilty. None of this is her fault. It’s neither of our faults. We’re here living in squalor, stripped of magic, wealth, and title, all because of one lying piece of shit: the prince. King Korvane’s only heir. Prince Kyor.

He’s the one who lied about what happened the night the queen died, blaming her death on the healer attending her in childbirth: our mother. He’s the reason our magic was ripped from us and that my younger brother’s life was taken as forfeit. A son for a son, the king demanded.

I know the prince lied because I was there. My mother tried everything to help the queen. Tried to use all the healing powers at her disposal to save her. But sometimes even magic isn’t enough.

‘We’re a little short on coin, and I wasn’t hungry anyway,’ I say casually to Kay, patting my coat pocket where the vials rest. ‘I’m taking the tonics to Rula now. We’ll get some money and we’ll be fine.’

‘But for how long, Rose? I’m old enough now to work. I can help.’

I move back into the room and kiss her lightly on the top of her head.

‘You are helping, Kay. Just by being you, you’re helping.

You lift my spirits, and you help with the potions.

Now, make sure those don’t boil over for me.

’ I gesture to the pan that’s bubbling away on the single gas ring.

Another tonic that would work a hundred times better if I still had magic.

The properties of the plants and herbs mean that it’ll do something though, and for those of us living in the squalid desperation of the slums, where every day is a struggle to survive, anything is better than nothing.

‘You don’t need to ask the girls about work,’ I insist. ‘I’ve told you I’ll find something for you, and I will. Leave it to me.’ I smile reassuringly as I leave, but Kay still looks dubious.

Rightly so. I’m lying through my teeth.

If Rula doesn’t come up with some coin today, I’m going to have to think of some alternatives – fast.

Outside, the stench of the slums is muted by the cold and less pungent than it is inside the little ramshackle space we call home.

The summer months are the worst for it, when the heat turns every narrow street sour, but warmer weather never lingers long in Wrohelm.

We’re lucky if we get a couple of weeks.

It’s a double-edged sword; the reduced stench is a blessing, but the cold crushes your bones and freezes the water solid. And while the homes inside the inner rings of the city are blessed with heating, even some of those in the fifth and sixth rings aren’t so fortunate.

The source of today’s particularly malodorous scent becomes apparent a few feet later, when I pass a carriage filled with kitchen waste. From the aroma emanating from it and the scraps of half-masticated food, bones bitten bare, it probably came all the way from the High Hold.

A crowd has gathered around it, looking for anything edible.

There was a time I wouldn’t have believed people would go to such lengths to find something to eat, especially when what’s on offer is half-rotten and putrid already. Now, I’m annoyed I didn’t get here first. Anything decent will be long gone by now, so I’ll have to rely on Rula’s ‘generosity.’

Clutching my threadbare coat close, I elbow my way past the starving crowd. I long for my fur, sold long ago for coin. It was so soft, so warm … and so far back in my memory now that I’m not even sure I can accurately remember what it felt like.

Stifling a sigh, I keep a hand over the coat’s pocket as the last thing I want is to drop any of the vials. Thankfully, I don’t worry about being pickpocketed the way I frequently was when we first arrived here. We’re under Rula’s protection now, and only a fool would mess with her.

Speaking of fools…

As if I have summoned him with my thoughts, Tella pushes off a wall to snag me by my sleeve.

‘Hey there, pretty flower,’ he greets me, and my spine crawls.

I grit my teeth.

One of Rula’s enforcers, I should be safe from him, safe due to him.

But there is nothing safe about Tella. I’ve seen the glint in his eye as he looks at me; worse, I’ve seen it when he looks at Kay.

‘Tella,’ I say stiffly. ‘I’m on my way to Rula.’

‘Are you now?’ he replies carelessly as he reaches out to stroke my unnaturally white-blonde hair.

It was once a deep brunette, but when the priestess stripped me of my magic, the colour fled from every strand. It was the same for Kay and my parents. Now all and sundry can see and know my shame, just from the shade of hair flowing down my back. Stripped. Outcast.

Word of others who have suffered the same fate and wear the same shame-coloured shade has reached us in the slums, but I’ve personally yet to see another marked like me.

‘Hard to believe you were once a lady, isn’t it, Kultavaris?’ Tella’s voice lingers on the vowels of my surname, and he twines dirty fingers around the strands I wish I’d braided this morning.

My heart hammers as my fists clench at my side, but I keep the fury within.

Behind him, I can see Frell and Jack, which means if I slam my knee into Tella’s groin the way I long to, they’ll be on me in a heartbeat.

And it’s not like I have a weapon. My strength has faded due to a lack of food and nutrients, and it’s been a long time since I practised fighting.

I regret it now. Regret not keeping up with the training.

I can still throw a dagger straight, but I had to sell my last throwing knife six weeks ago, when the hunger got too much. Which means there are only two things I can do: grit my teeth and let Tella keep playing with my hair.

Better me than Kay.

‘When are you going to let me come calling, Rose?’ he asks with a wink that makes my stomach turn.

‘I’m too busy,’ I say as mildly as I can manage. I wish to hell I hadn’t sold that blade. It’s foolish to have no defence. ‘Rula has me brewing potions every moment of the day.’

His hand trails down from my hair to stroke my neck lightly. ‘You’d better find time, Rose. Or I’ll be making it for you. You and your little sister.’

Bile burns my throat, but somehow I fight against every urge and manage to conjure up a false smile. ‘Soon,’ I tell him. ‘Soon.’

My mind whirs in panic. Tella has officially shifted from annoyance to threat – and specifically a threat to Kay – and that means he has to be eliminated.

It’s time to begin brewing a potion that doesn’t heal, but harms, in case he does come knocking.

He’s arrogant and careless, so I know he would take a drink from me without thinking twice. And it would be the last thing he does. Because when he’s passed out, I could smother him, choke him, something. His would be the first life I’d ever take. But it would be worth it. Anything for Kay.

‘We’re late,’ Jack grunts, eyes flicking over me with the tiniest hint of compassion.

He’s one of the few good ones, but I’m careful to keep the gratitude out of my eyes or Tella will take issue with us both.

Tella’s eyes flick to the shadow cast by the monolith stone at the heart of the High Hold. He grimaces, seeing Jack’s right.

‘Until next time, little flower.’ He blows me a kiss and winks yet again as I suppress a shudder.