A shadow in the ember

Chapter 16

The back of my neck prickled. I turned my head slightly to the left, seeing two pairs of legs in dark breeches by the door. I should’ve known better than to blindly rush into any room, even in Wayfair.

Hadn’t I learned that lesson a time or a dozen over the last three years?

“I didn’t have a choice,” the servant whispered. “Truly, I—”

“That’s enough,” a male voice snapped, and the servant immediately fell quiet.

His voice had come from my right. Either the one I saw by the door had moved, or there were two in the room. Irritation buzzed through my veins as I slipped my right hand into my boot. I was not having a very good day, and that really sucked after such a wonderful few hours by the lake. The poor Coupers were dead. My arm still throbbed. Sir Holland would be a

After all, I knew how this would end.

With me bloody.

And someone dead.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I said, rising slowly and unsheathing the knife from my boot. It was small enough that when I held it pressed to my palm with my thumb and kept my hand open, it appeared as if I held nothing. I looked slightly to my left again, and the pair of legs was still there. “You’ve heard some rumor. That I’m cursed. That if you kill me, you’ll end the Rot. That’s not how it works. Or, you’ve heard something about who I am and think you can use me to gain whatever it is you need. That’s not going to happen, either.”

“We aren’t thinking about anything,” the man to my left replied. “Other than about the coin that will fill our pockets. Enough not to ask questions.”

That was…different.

I shifted the knife slightly, turning the slender blade between my fingers. Killing is not something one should have little regard for. Ash was right. I forced myself to breathe in slowly and then hold it as I looked over my shoulder to my right once more in response to the whisper of steel being drawn. I saw black, and my stomach lurched. Black breeches. Well-muscled arms. A glimpse of purple brocade over a wide chest.

They were guards.

An unsettled skip came from my chest, but I couldn’t let it take hold. I shut down my thoughts and feelings and became the thing that had stood in Nor’s office. That empty, moldable creature. A blank canvas primed to become whatever the Primal of Death desired or be used in whatever way my mother saw fit. I sometimes wondered how the Primal would’ve painted me, but as the handle of the small knife now slipped between my fingers, I was still blank. Exhaling a long and slow breath, I turned to my right. But that wasn’t where I aimed. I cocked back my arm and let the knife fly.

I knew it struck true when I heard the ragged gasp, and the servant let out a startled cry. There was no time to see if Sir Holland’s blindfolded training had paid off as the other guard charged me, sword drawn.

He was young. Couldn’t be much older than I was, and I thought about the marks Ash had said every death left behind.

I kicked out, planting my booted foot in the center of the guard’s chest. My skirt slid over my leg as he stumbled back. Reaching down, I gave the room a quick scan as I unsheathed the iron blade. I’d been wrong about how many were in the room. There were three, and they were all young.

Well, probably only two in a few seconds.

Sir Holland would be disappointed.

My aim hadn’t been spot-on. The knife had caught the guard in the throat. Crimson streamed down his arms and darkened his tunic. He staggered forward, falling against the settee. The servant scrambled backward as the other guard rushed me.

He swept out with his sword, and I dipped under his arm, popping up directly in the path of the third guard. He jabbed out with a shorter blade. Cursing under my breath, I grasped the guard’s sword arm. I spun, dragging him along with me. Letting go, I slammed my elbow into his back. The act jarred the already sore bone and flesh, causing me to suck in a sharp breath as I pushed hard. The guard’s shout ended abruptly in a gasping breath.

I whirled around to see that his partner’s blade had impaled the guard.

“Shit,” the guard growled, shoving the other to the side. The man went down on one knee and then fell face forward, slamming into the low table. The vase of lilies crashed. Water spilled as delicate white petals hit the carpet.

“That wasn’t me,” I said, backing up. The girl had retreated to the wall and…appeared to be praying once again. “That was all you.”

He shifted his blade to his other hand. “More coin for my pockets, I suppose.”

The remaining guard shot forward. He was fast, blocking my stab. He spun out before I could strike again. My gaze flicked to the locked door. There was no way I would make it there and unlock it in time.

“Who paid you?” I asked.

He circled me slowly, eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t matter.”

Maybe it didn’t. I already had my suspicions. I spun, slicing out with the blade. The guard brought his fist down on my arm, right on the bruise. I yelped. The shock of pain rippled through me. My hand opened on reflex. The dagger fell, hitting the carpet without a sound.

The guard laughed under his breath. “For a moment there, I actually started to worry.”

“Yeah, well, don’t stop yet.” Twisting at the waist, I grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on.

Turned out to be an embroidered pillow.

“What are you going to do with that?” he asked. “Smother me?”

“Perhaps.” I winged the surprisingly heavy pillow directly at his face.

He jerked back. “What the—?”

I spun, kicking out and up, catching the pillow and his face with my boot. He grunted, staggering several steps back. I snagged my blade from where it had fallen and snapped up. I grasped the hand that held his dagger and pushed down as I thrust the iron through the pillow. The man howled as red-tinged feathers puffed into the air and dropped his sword as he reached for me. I jerked the blade free, desperately ignoring the soft, wet sound of suction and his shrill screams.

I slammed the blade into his chest again, over his heart. The dagger pierced the heavy brocade and the bones there, sinking through his body as if it were nothing but spun sugar.

His screams cut off.

Tugging the blade free, I stepped aside as the guard’s legs went out from under him. He fell to the side, twitching. A pool of crimson swept across the ivory carpet, joining the other deep red stain.

“Gods,” I uttered, glancing up to where the female servant stood against the wall. “The carpet will definitely require more than a spot clean, won’t it?”

Wide-eyed, she slowly shook her head. Her lips moved for several moments without sound. “I didn’t want to do this. They caught me outside. Told me they needed my help.” Words spilled out of her between ragged sobs. “I didn’t know what for until they led me in here. I thought they were going to—”

“Do you know who was supposed to pay them?” I cut her off.

“N-no,” she said, shaking her head. “I swear to you. I have no idea.” Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t really even know who you are. I thought you were a handmaiden.”

I swallowed a sigh as I looked down at the three guards, not letting myself take in their faces—to see if I recognized any of them and allow them to leave a mark behind. Who could’ve gotten to them that had the kind of coin needed to convince someone to kill someone else who was either employed or protected by the Crown?

There was only one who would do it, knowing there’d be no repercussions.

Tavius.

My stomach tumbled. Could he truly be behind this? I pressed my lips together. Was I seriously asking myself that? Of course, he would, but could he have pulled something like this together in the short time between when he left his father’s office and now? Or had it been pla

A loud thud sounded near the door. I turned just as a male voice a

Before I could even walk forward and unlock the door, I saw the knob turn and keep turning. Metal creaked and then cracked as gears gave way.

Dear gods…

I took a step back as the door swung open, and several Royal Guards filed into the chamber. They drew up short, but it was the male who stood in the doorway that snagged my focus.

I’d never seen him before.

I’d never seen anything like him before.

He was tall and…golden all over. His mane of hair. His skin. The elaborate…facial paint. A shimmery gold swept up over his brows and down his cheeks, a design that resembled wings. But his eyes…they were such a pale shade of blue they nearly blended with the faint aura of eather behind the pupils.

I knew then that he was a god, but that wasn’t what left me unsettled. The facial paint reminded me of the charred skin on the seamstress’s face.

That pale gaze drifted over to where I stood, still breathing heavily, and landed on the bodies behind me, ending where the servant girl was still pressed to the wall as if she were trying to become one with it. I slipped the hand holding the dagger behind me.

The god gri

My mother appeared behind him, her face paling to match the ivory and cream of her gown. I suddenly wished that I could become one with the wall.

“I found them like this,” I lied, glancing at the servant. “Right?”

She nodded emphatically, and I turned back to them. The god’s pale gaze burned into mine, the wisps of eather in his eyes far fainter than Ash’s. What was a god even doing here in the castle? I swallowed, wanting to take a step back as he continued staring at me.

The god’s smile grew. “What a terrible thing to discover.”

I glanced at my mother. Not for one second did I think she believed what I claimed, but she wouldn’t say anything. Not in front of a god.

The Queen’s expression smoothed out. “Yes,” she said, her chest rising sharply. “What a terrible thing, indeed.”

“You really think Tavius had something to do with the attack?” Ezra asked, her voice low as we hung freshly washed linens on nylon lines in the courtyard of Healer Dirks’ home the following afternoon.