19. Aldrin
M y heart hammers with the thrill of anticipation as Belladonna and Valentine wrap their shadows around our party of assassins.
Dante moves to my side, gripping my shoulder and squeezing it as that cold, silky darkness swallows us whole.
I will never get used to this feeling of falling through nothingness for long periods of time, my entire body weightless and numb.
I have spent days negotiating with my new allies and recruiting assassins willing to back my cause. The order is less of the expected totalitarian regime and more of a hierarchical family, where the members are respected as individuals who can refuse a contract.
The journey through shadows takes far too long.
Every inch of my being is desperate to reach our destination.
We land in the heart of the Spring Court with a loud thud as dozens of boots strike worn floorboards and send up a plume of dust. The shadows recede swiftly around us, but not completely, hugging the corners of the already dim space.
We are in the center of an abandoned tavern.
It has become the base of operations for my most loyal people since they arrived in the City of Vertical Gardens.
Cyprien stands alone at the far end of the room, peering through cracks in a boarded-up window, but swings around violently at our intrusion.
The beads in his many war braids clink as they fly out behind him, despite being tied high in a leather strap.
The shaved sides of his head have new runes tattooed onto them.
He almost drops the tall, narrow glass of rakisi in his hand.
Some of the cloudy white spirit slops over the side as he takes in the horde before him, eyes widening.
The Assassins of Belladonna are an unsettling sight, especially for those of us who have had the misfortune of fighting them.
All wear deep indigo robes that billow around them on a phantom breeze, exposing metal greaves and bracers beneath.
Many have their hoods drawn up and fabric masks covering the bottom halves of their faces.
Niko’s set of huge, branching antlers is on full display, along with his clawed hands, and Ada’s leathery wings bracket her body.
I have witnessed Cyprien charge at the front line of an enemy army, roaring and swinging his sword, during battles where the odds were against us, but right now he is frozen in place and barely seems to breathe.
His glass drops to the ground and shatters.
Then he draws the sword from his back in a swift motion, his lips peeling back from his teeth in an animalistic snarl.
I push my way through the crowd and throw my arms out wide. “Did you forget I was coming, brother?”
His eyes narrow on me. “I did not forget.” He sheathes his sword, then he is upon me, holding me by the shoulders at arm’s length, inspecting every inch of me for grievous wounds.
“It’s okay,” I half whisper as his wild eyes meet mine. “ I am okay .”
“You spent weeks with the realm’s most deadly killers who were hired to destroy you.” His fingers dig deeper into my shoulders, failing to hide the way they shake. “You endured trial after trial while they attempted to kill you.”
I squeeze his arm.“And now they work with us.”
All of a sudden, Cyprien pulls me into an embrace so tight I swear my ribs creak. “Fuck, Aldrin. You’re going to put me in an early grave with your antics. I wanted to be at your side when you faced the trials.”
I slap his back. “I needed you here, watching over Keira and preparing the city for us.”
He pulls away and wipes tears from the corners of his eyes. “It took far too long to get Drake on the inside, and he only revealed himself to her a few days ago.”
“I know.” It is how I have been communicating with Cyprien, through Keira and Drake. “You did your best. Now, let’s introduce you to our new allies and replace that drink of yours.” I slap him on the back hard enough to make him stagger.
Cyprien straightens immediately, as though he forgot about our guests.
“Allow me to introduce you to Belladonna and Valentine, the Mistress and Master of the Assassins of Belladonna,” I say as both leaders of the guild tip their heads toward him.
They cast an extremely unfriendly image, shadows still billowing around them.
“This is Cyprien, the Commander of my Armed Forces.”
Cyprien stares at them with simmering accusation. “Mm-hmm.”
“Commander of your Armed Forces?” Valentine repeats, his gaze stony. “And what exactly happened to those troops? Because as far as I was aware, Aldrin, you came to us because you don’t have an army.”
“He doesn’t have control of the army yet ,” Cyprien snaps. “Give me time, and I will muster our soldiers for him. He won’t even have to die for it.”
I cringe. How did he discover that little detail?
“And how much time will that take, exactly?” Belladonna raises a coy eyebrow.
“We can get into the specifics of it later,” I grumble, scowling at all three. “Right now we have an army of assassins to house, and I need to set foot into my city to see my enemy’s handiwork for myself.”
Assassins mill around us, waiting and murmuring.
Bodies stumble as they are pushed out of the way, then Dante materializes from the crowd.
He walks straight up to my oldest friend with a huge grin on his face, which is at complete contrast with the curling horns and the indigo runes inked all over his skin, and holds out an arm for him to shake.
“Cyprien, right?” Dante says. “Any friend of Aldrin’s is a friend of mine.”
Cyprien looks at his hand, then his face, eyes narrowing further. “Aren’t you the one who poisoned him regularly and set up trials designed to kill him?”
I am going to kill Drake. He has clearly been using his abilities to spy on me. It was Keira’s idea to keep my people in the dark about my harshest treatments until I returned to them.
“That would be me. It is our way.” Dante shrugs.
“I am also the man who trained him and made sure he had the skills and knowledge to survive each battle. Would you like to know what Aldrin looks like fighting imaginary Cú Sídhe while high on hallucinogens? I can tell you all sorts of stories from when he was drugged out of his mind.” Dante forcibly takes Cyprien’s hand and shakes it.
My brother-in-law’s expression softens and he presses his lips together to hide a smirk, eyes sliding to me. “I think I will take him up on that offer.”
“Great. Bond over mocking me.” My tone drips with sarcasm.
More of the assassins introduce themselves to Cyprien, while I pour two glasses of rakisi and tuck one into his hand. I take a sip of my own and the intense spirit hits me like a tidal wave, burning down my throat, chased by a strong note of aniseed.
Fuck, if it doesn’t taste like home.
Niko steps behind the dusty but well-stocked bar and serves drinks to the horde of assassins, who settle in at the tables and chairs pushed to the sides of the room.
Ada sits on a stool opposite the bar, criticizing everything he does, until she finally gets up and helps him.
A sly smile forms on his face behind her back.
I have no patience for idle conversation. This is not the place I have been desperate to return to, and despite my love for Cyprien, his is not the face I have longed to see.
The crowd parts with gasps and spilled drinks as Fluffy’s spiked black form comes bounding happily through it. He leaps with his front paws, landing on Cyprien’s chest, Cyprien staggering backward in his shock. The hound sniffs him intensely, but doesn’t snap or growl.
“Down! Down, Fluffy!” I snap my fingers at him, but the creature doesn’t respond until Nico lets out a long, loud whistle that has his pet racing for him.
“Fluffy?” Cyprien turns wild eyes at me, face pale and hair completely ruffled. “Why the fuck is an obsidian dread hound called Fluffy?”
“Don’t even ask.” I knock back my drink, finishing it in a single gulp, then tip my head to the door. “Let’s go.”
“As much as I would love to escape this place, it is not time yet.” He dusts his hands down his clothes, removing the huge pawprints left there.
“Then let’s get there early.”
A smirk curls one side of his lips. “Impatient for discovery, are you? There are other ways this can be done. You are a mad bastard for coming into the city, let alone sneaking into the palace.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You know why I have to penetrate the palace.”
“Keira can come here,” he says.
“It is not just about Keira. The gods know I want to see her, that I will see her no matter what Titania throws at me, but I need to know the allegiance of the Wisteria of Mythanar before we attempt any attack on the throne. It can turn the tide of a battle.”
“Basil said?—”
“I would know for myself,” I cut him off. “I would have Keira as connected to it as much as I, not just receiving a whisper of acknowledgment but full control. There are things I need to do to make that happen.”
Cyprien gives me a curt nod, but says no more.
I pull Belladonna and Valentine to the side.
“I am going to infiltrate the palace through the secret tunnels and receive a status report from the spies I have on the inside. We will know our first moves soon. Until then, ensure your assassins keep a low profile and hunt outside of the city—with beasts as the prey for food only, no nymphs or needless killing. There will be plenty of that soon enough.”
Valentine scoffs, but Belladonna cocks her head to the side. “We are professionals, Aldrin. Did you find a litter of dead bodies when we laid our attacks on you not so long ago?”
“Is that because you ate the bodies whole?” Cyprien frowns deeply, but there is a hint of humor in his eyes.
Valentine analyzes him like he is a potential threat, but Belladonna throws her head back and laughs musically. “Oh, I like this one already,” she says to her mate, making his features harden further.