27.
Thalia gazed at her reflection in awe.
Lileth probably wouldn’t even recognize her. The change in coloring made all the difference, and the cheap, bulky clothes added volume to her figure, lending the impression that she could be Animari. Which was vital to their plan.
“What do you think?” Ferith asked.
“It’s an impressive transformation. I don’t think anyone will look closely at me.” She checked the time then. “Too late to make contact with the vendor?”
Ferith nodded. “We should snatch a few hours of sleep and then go to the warehouse near dawn. From what I hear, they deliver supplies early.”
“Understood.” The room had one bed, and the other woman started to settle on the rickety chair near the window. “We can share,” Thalia added.
“I appreciate the offer, but I can keep watch more effectively from here. The security in this place is terrible, or rather should I say, nonexistent.”
“It’ll keep us out of the cold, so we’re better off than many in Outwater.”
Ferith cast her a quizzical look, so she elaborated on her brief encounter at the fire barrel, disposing of her hair and the revelation about the gray tar. When she finished, the Noxblade sighed.
“That was unwise. I agree that those people need our help, but we’re in no position to deliver it right now. You risked our mission…for what?”
Thalia almost said, to destroy evidence of who I am, but that answer didn’t feel quite right or completely true. In her disbelief that even Ruark Gilbraith could be so cruel, she’d wanted a closer look at those people, hoping they had some reason other than desperation for huddling around that fire. Closer inspection hadn’t comforted her at all. They had all been cold and hungry, lines of pain and deprivation carved into their faces, Eldritch faces that normally showed no age.
“I understand your anger, and I won’t take such a foolish risk again. But if anything, I’m more determined to win now. I have to, so that I can redistribute wealth and implement long-needed social programs.”
Ferith snorted. “You don’t need to convince me. This isn’t a campaign stop.”
“If an election would work, I’d ask Ruark to let the people decide, but that’s never been our way.”
“No, such things have always been decided in shadows and blood.”
“It’s ironic, when you consider it.”
“What is?”
“That I’m trying to usher in a kinder, gentler future through the most brutal means.”
“Stop waxing philosophical and go to sleep,” Ferith snapped.
On a creaky bed with questionably clean linens, Thalia shouldn’t have been able to sleep at all, but she did. Maybe it was Ferith’s presence on watch that let her snatch a few hours of rest. Whatever the reason, she woke full of grim resolve. She washed up in cold water and popped in the brown contacts. It was like looking at a stranger’s face.
“Ready?” Ferith called softly.
“I am. Is it far to the warehouse?”
“About a kilometer. Do you have something for the necessary bribe?”
Thalia twirled the flower pin in her fingers. Small and pretty, the broach was just valuable enough to tempt someone but not make them question where such a treasure had come from. “Right here. Let’s go.”
They left the hostel in the hazy predawn light. Mist rose up from the ground, which was still cold, but it was already warmer than it had been, creating pockets of fog. The haze gave the town an eerie, ghostly air, as if they crept along the rim of reality, skating up against other worlds. Ferith’s footsteps were supernaturally silent, and Thalia tried to match the assassin’s stealth, but she lacked the same years of dedicated training.
None of the businesses they passed were open, and maybe it was strange to be so hungry when all she needed to do was focus on killing Ruark Gilbraith, but she imagined piping hot pastries stuffed with roast vegetables and cheese, hot bowls of soup thick with barley and—
Stop, she scolded herself. You can eat whatever you want once he’s dead.
“Do you regret marrying the wolf?” Ferith asked suddenly.
“What?” She couldn’t be more surprised if the Noxblade had slapped her.
“I just wondered. You left in secret with only a note. It seemed to me you would have included him in your plan, if you truly valued him.”
“Regret isn’t the right word,” she said. “I still think the move was right for our people. We wouldn’t have come this far without wolf tech and their martial support.”
“But he’s not your partner.”
Thalia sighed. “Let’s stop. I can’t believe I have to say this but stay on task.”
“Understood, Your Highness. But you’re not thinking about your empty stomach anymore, are you?” Ferith grinned.
“That…is true. How did you know?”
“I heard it growling. More than once. But it’s a good detail to sell our story. How likely is it that the heir to a great house would starve herself?”
“You make a good point. Is that the warehouse?”
A squat, corrugated metal building sprawled across broken pavement. From the overall look of Outwater, Ruark Gilbraith had given nothing back to the town that supported his estate. Taxes were set by the province ruler, and Thalia suspected he had been robbing these people for years. The roads were a mess, the people were hungry, some were homeless, and almost everyone wore threadbare clothing. Fury raged through her like wildfire.
“Enough,” she said through her teeth. “This is enough, there will be no more.”
“Easy. Remember your cover story,” Ferith cautioned.
At this hour, they were already loading the crates of produce onto vehicles, supplies that Ruark had probably paid only a pittance for, demanding it as tribute, as part of his noble entitlement. Pulling his heart out with her bare hands would be too good for him.
She adjusted her expression to match the story they were selling and stepped hesitantly toward the workers.
“Sir? Could I have a moment of your time?”
The man idling near the front of the Rover did a double take when he saw her, so she guessed her disguise must be effective. “You’re a long way from home, miss.”
He thinks I’m Animari. Perfect.
“I have no choice,” she whispered. “My family won’t let me be with the one I love. Even if I die, I have to see him at least once more. Could you help me?”
She got a skeptical look in exchange for her best acting. “What’re you saying?”
“He works in the kitchen at Braithwaite. I’ve tried to get a message in, but it doesn’t send, I’m not sure why.”
The driver spat. “That Ruark Gilbraith is a paranoid bastard. I’m sure he has jammers, controlling messages in and out. Worried about traitors and spies, they say.”
It’s assassins he should fear.
“Well, I just want to see Eldred’s face one last time. I’ll help you unload your boxes in exchange for a ride in. I’ll just speak with him for a moment and leave with you. Isn’t there a way you can help me?”
“Your family disapproves?” the driver guessed.
“His too.”
“They would. But it does seem heartless not to let you say farewell. I suppose that’s why they sent him to work at Braithwaite? Best way to keep you two apart.”
“I know,” she said sadly.
“I’d like to help, I would, but I’d be risking more than my job to smuggle you in, sweetheart. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Thalia widened her eyes, hoping she looked sweet, harmless, guileless. “You need more motivation? Well…I have this. It belonged to my grandmother.” She spread her fingers to reveal the flower pin, sparkling in the sun that was trying to rise above the trees. So far it hadn’t banished the mist.
The driver smiled and plucked it out of her hand. “We have a deal. Put on a hat and some goggles, ride in back and keep your eyes down. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
Time was ticking away, and every moment Raff lost, he wouldn’t get back again. Not because he might fuck up and Gavriel might impale him as a result.
His problem was something else entirely. The longer he spent away from Thalia, in bitter, icy silence, the worse he felt. By now he couldn’t even breathe for the panic tightening on his heart. He told himself, she’s fine, she’s probably fine, but not knowing, not having her within arms’ reach might drive him crazy. Already, he was itchy as fuck, pacing like a caged animal in the cold, echoing chamber that felt so lifeless without her.
She might be facing down Ruark Gilbraith right now. Might be dying on his sword. Fuck, she could be a lifeless skull, just like Tirael, atop Gilbraith’s walls. Certain Eldritch customs were just fucking sick; it was absurd they considered the Animari less advanced.
At least we don’t poison each other and train our children as assassins.
Sometimes he could believe the allegation that the Eldritch had bred the Golgoth for battle, eons ago, because both peoples were both brutal and terrifying. The Eldritch just hid it better, behind delicate manners and quiet elegance.
Commander Olwyn stopped him in the hall, his eyes full of questions. “I hear you’ve put the staff on rations. How long can we hold out?”
“I’m not sure. You’d better talk to the chatelaine.”
This is all too fucking heavy. He heard his old man then: “Why are you pretending? You were never good for anything but drinking, fucking up, and running away.”
Sometimes he thought maybe it would be better if his father was dead, because then, maybe he could forgive him. But he’d gone quietly mad instead. Sometimes the old bastard was a half-feral wolf, and sometimes he was a pathetic soul who cried endlessly and asked for Raff’s mother. He couldn’t even hate somebody like that.
It was getting hard to breathe and Olwyn was still talking. More troop questions, more strategic meetings? No fucking way.
Before he made the conscious decision, he was running, out the door and through the hallway. Though it was dark, he could see perfectly well and navigated the labyrinth of corridors to the courtyard, where he demanded they open the gates. The guards didn’t question him, just as well, because he only had a head full of fear and rage, no words to temper his snarls. If they’d thought he was a beast before, his behavior tonight would confirm all their worst doubts.
Better to get out and run, clear his head, and maybe he could get some information from Titus’s people. If Raff was lucky, he might even run into some enemies that he could chew to pieces. Outside the gate, he stripped and tucked his clothes beneath a tumble of stone. It wasn’t even cold enough to make him shiver, and the night was clear, stars glittering overhead like they had somebody to impress.
He didn’t know what shifting felt like to anyone else, but for him, it was a relief, like letting go of the strings that kept him in man-shape. Sometimes Raff thought he was supposed to be a wolf; that was easy and natural. Being a man? Hard as fuck.
In wolf form, he ran, blending into the lengthening shadows. Part of him knew this wasn’t responsible. He should stay put, keep being the tower of power that everyone else could lean on, but he could feel himself unraveling.
If he took a break, he might be able to wait for her. Calmly, with composure. She had to know none of this shit was his strong point, and she’d just left, like that, leaving behind only a fucking note. As a rule, Raff didn’t memorize things he’d read. He couldn’t recite poems or sing along with music he heard. But that goodbye letter was etched on his heart.
I’ve gone to kill Ruark Gilbraith. If I succeed, I’ll be back. If not, you’re free to do as you wish. Well, you’re free anyway. Please look after Daruvar in my absence and extricate yourself safely from our territory if I fail. –T
No salutation, no closing, not even her whole name. He couldn’t cry in wolf form, but he could howl, and he did. Not at the moon, but at the torrent of conflicted emotions rioting through him. He hated her, he wanted her back, he wanted to burn something down and hold her tight, all at the same time.
Why the hell does she do everything alone?
It was him; it had to be him. He’d been too honest about his flaws and, so she knew too much to trust him when she needed someone most. These thoughts were killing him, so he cut them out with ruthless dedication and focused on the wind in his fur, the damp earth beneath his paws, and the myriad scents hanging fresh in the early spring air.
His head finally, blissfully empty, he ran down a rabbit and ate it raw. Then he was calm enough to search the trees in the zones Titus had shown him. The first three spots had no new markings, but toward the border, he found trail sign, recently left, too. He recognized the scent as one of the Animari who had met up with Titus at the cabin, but not a person he’d encountered in the flesh.
It had taken him hours to memorize their code while Sky alternately sobbed and slept, but now he could read the word left behind. Enemy on the move from the east. That would be Gilbraith’s people, maybe coming for Thalia’s head. Just as well she’s not here. Raff didn’t think Ruark would lead the assault. Everything he knew about the asshole suggested Gilbraith was a coward.
First, Gilbraith tried to coerce Thalia into marrying him, then he went after her using a secret, hidden half-sibling. What’s the next move?
Suddenly the idea hit so hard that he practically saw sparks. Gavriel. If he returned now, nobody would question it and he’d have access to anything he wanted inside the fortress. The scenario Sky had glimpsed in her vision might come to pass under one circumstance—if that red-eyed bastard betrayed Thalia and came for her on Ruark’s payroll, he might easily shift targets when he found only Raff instead. Not out of frustration, but to weaken her support.
If I die, Korin will cut our losses and step out of Eldritch business. Leaving Thalia alone against her enemies.
The rabbit roiled in his stomach. Like a dumbass, he’d run off without telling anyone where he was going. Daruvar was essentially open for the taking, if someone had clearance to get inside. But that was probably just Raff’s wild imagination working overtime.
Gavriel loved Thalia. That devotion had been clear to pretty much everyone at the conclave.
Yeah, and watch how fast a twisted love goes bad. Loving someone who didn’t love you back? It could drive you to desperate, unforgivable acts.
Dread gave him wings as he raced back to the fortress, half expecting to find it in flames when he crested the steep hill. It all seemed quiet enough when he crept up to the walls, but caution never hurt. Silently, he shifted and dressed, out of the guards’ sight, before signaling at the gate for entry. They shone a light down and watched for a good two minutes to make sure his arrival wasn’t a trap.
“I’m alone,” he snapped as the heavy iron doors finally ground open. “Has anyone else come tonight?”
“Just Gavriel and Magda,” the sentry replied.
Shit. It’s started. And I don’t even know what chain of events I need to stop.