Mask of Shadows Read online

  “There’s got to be more to it,” I said. The auditions were a closed event, and I’d never heard about what was involved. “If there wasn’t, any ass who wanted a title could audition. They must make you kill someone or something.”

  “The gentle way you say that sets my soul on edge.”

  I knocked him with my shoulder. “If you can feel your soul, then you need a physician.”

  “So do you.” Rath ripped through a tangle of vines and stumbled onto the path back to town. He’d have been the perfect fighter with broad shoulders and big muscles, but he winced at blood and took to numbers more than punches even after years of robbing coaches. “What would you even do? Rob them on your way to audition?”

  “Shows determination, doesn’t it?”

  “Determination to die.” He shuddered. “You never killed anyone, right? None of those soldiers out there rotting?”

  I sucked on my teeth. That was a bounty I didn’t need. I’d dreamed about killing nobles—kicking faceless Erlend lords till they knew deep in their bones why I’d come for them, till Nacea’s final screams were seared into their souls. But those were dreams.

  “What would it matter if I had?” I scraped my nail across the silver ring. Plenty of Erlend lords had made fortunes from the razing. Lords like Horatio del Seve, whose name I’d burned into my memory as soon as I’d heard he was selling off Nacean land. “Soldiers would kill us just as quick.”

  “But it would’ve been a fair fight—we’re thieves. It’s their job.”

  I scowled. “Nothing fair about fighting armored soldiers.”

  “You’re the sort for auditions.” He stomped after me, loud and breathy and full of useless opinions. He’d talked about the folks he’d like to have a shot at often enough. “Smashing people’s faces in for money.”

  “I already get paid to fight.” I rounded on him, grabbed his collar, and shoved him against a tree. “They know what they’re getting into. They sign up to fight—just like me. Don’t act like you don’t depend on me winning.”

  “I’m not killing people.” The spears rattled on his back.

  “Neither am I. You’re rigging bets while I’m winning fights.”

  “Fine.” He jabbed me in the ribs and darted around me. “Grell’s waiting. Come on.”

  We hit Tulen a while later, sweaty and shaky. The guards in Grell’s pocket let us into the city. I twisted the lady’s ring around my finger, glanced down the alley, and pulled it off. Rath was my only companion in the dark, and he was doubled over his knees trying to catch his breath. Our Queen had touched this ring, had pressed her seal into the silver. I’d only ever seen her from afar.

  I’d make a deal with The Lady. If I got the ring past Grell, I was clever enough to audition and serve Our Queen. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t recover in time to audition.

  I slipped my knife out of my sheath, slipped my shirt off my shoulder, and drew the tip across my upper arm. Blood welled over the blade, pain burning up my shoulder, and I wiped my knife clean on my sleeve. I pressed the ring against the skin above the cut and wrapped a stolen handkerchief around it. The ring stayed in place.

  A little pain, a pretty payoff.

  My blood to seal The Lady’s prayer.

  I wrapped it a few more times, enough to disguise the bulge but let the blood seep through and make it look real. No sign of the ring, a lot of blood, and Rath was still gasping over his boots. Perfect.

  The door to the Starved Hatter swung open and Grell shouted, “Check Rath twice.”

  Rath groaned and struggled to stand. Lorne, one of Grell’s chattier guards, lumbered out into the light. I leaned against the door.

  Even better—people trusted you if you remembered their name and their problems.

  “You’re working late.” I sucked on my waterskin while Lorne patted his way up Rath’s legs. “Thought you’d be suffering through another night with your kid.”

  “Cayet got the day shift.” Lorne unlaced Rath’s boots and yanked up his pants legs, knocking his way around Rath’s calves and hips for a while before sliding up to his chest and fluffing out his shirt. “Don’t think it matters—kid never wants to sleep when we do.”

  I rubbed my arm. Pins and needles crawled over my shoulder, but I nodded along like I understood. I couldn’t imagine a two-year-old being reasonable about sleeping.

  “What happened to you?” Lorne slapped Rath on the shoulder and pushed him out of the way.

  “Got stabbed.” I held out my bleeding arm and spread my legs, keeping my face neutral. Rath’s head jerked to me. I ignored him. He couldn’t lie to save his life. Blood kept guards away, and I knew Grell was listening. Drawing attention to a hiding spot wasn’t the brightest, but if I named it up front, he’d never think I had anything to hide. “Landed on some fancy, pointy hatpin in the coach.”

  “You keep it?” Lorne checked my pockets and shoes.

  “No. It was wood.”

  Lorne snorted. “Mouth open.”

  I stuck out my tongue and turned my head side to side. Lorne collected our purses and walked back to the Hatter, clapping Rath on the shoulder again and patting my uninjured arm. Rath and I glanced at each other. He hooked an arm around my shoulders.

  “Hatpin, was it?”

  I gritted my teeth. He was smart-mouthed as that noble lady. “Shut it.”

  Great. Now I needed dirt on him to keep us even.

  Three

  “Get up.” Rath, his breath reeking of day-old tea, shook me awake. “Breakfast.”

  I buried my face in my arms. A flickering, sweaty fire burned up my arm, and I cracked my eyes open. Rath, backlit and clutching a cup, elbowed me out of bed. I’d dreamed of storms.

  Better than my usual nightmares of creeping darkness, dripping with teeth and blood, but dread still clung to me like it did on those terrible nights.

  I snatched my good shirt from the floor, groping around the hem, and rubbed the ring with my thumb. It was safely out of my makeshift bandage and out of sight from prying eyes. Rath had cleaned my arm while I’d sewn the ring into my hidden shirt pocket. He’d laughed the whole time.

  “You still on about auditioning for Opal?”

  “I am, and I know how I’ll show my skill.” Bounties were plentiful, and I’d the perfect one to turn over as an invitation. Assassins dealt in death, didn’t they? “I need you to distract Grell’s guards.”

  “No. Lords, Sal.” He plopped down on the bed next to me, raking a hand through his dark hair. “He kills for looking at him wrong. Whatever you’re planning, he’ll kill you for it.”

  Not if I killed him first.

  “Might kill us all if the mood strikes him,” I said. Grell was responsible for a list of corpses longer than I was tall, and it grew as fast as the children who never had a chance. He killed for skimming, skipping, lying, or anything else that tickled his fancy. He was the one who started kidnapping nobles—I’d found out by accident, and he’d kill me if he knew. Grell and his partners would get us all dragged to the noose eventually.

  “He’s been running kidnappings on rich folks.”

  Rath tensed. “Nothing new.”

  “He cut a deal with some crew down south, but they’re killing their marks.” Rath would’ve run if he’d already heard. Hanging for thievery was one thing, but no one decent wanted to be associated with greedy killers. “Moment the wrong rich person dies, Grell won’t be able to pay off the guards. They’ll come for him, and he’ll turn us over to save himself.”

  Just like the old Erlend lords had. The Erlends had led the shadows through Nacea to slow them down and let the Erlend army escape while Nacea was slaughtered. My people were left as nothing more than stains on the earth where sharp, shapeless claws had flayed them apart. Grell would use us to slow the soldiers so he could escape. We’d all be dead and gone like Nacea.

  The only way to stop a slaughter was to stop those who started it, the ones who would do it again—like Our Queen had with the shadows, like Rodolfo
da Abreu with their creators, and like I would with Grell and the Erlend lords who’d orchestrated Nacea’s ruin to save their own skins.

  Rath slumped, fingers gripping my hand. “He’ll get us all killed.”

  “No, he won’t. I’m turning him in.” His hand, at least, but Rath didn’t need to know that. Couldn’t risk him snitching on me either. “You run this place right—no killing and no ransoms—and I get my shot at Opal. Everybody in town already loves you. You ran circles around Grell when you were ten.”

  “You’ve never cared about being anybody but Sal.” He shook his head. “Opal has to kill people for no reason other than Our Queen’s say-so.”

  “That’s enough for me.” I twisted my head away so he wouldn’t see my flush. Our Queen was my hero, and rightly so because she’d sucked all the magic from the land. The shadows were nothing without it. Magic bound them to the earth, trapping them here long after their bodies were gone and their minds broken. The moment Our Queen rid this land of magic, the shadows fell apart. I owed her thousands of lives. My life. “She saved me. I’ll do anything she asks so long as it keeps her on the throne.”

  And I’d enjoy a few of the kills if they were the right ones.

  Rath had grown up too far south to see the shadows, but he went fidgety whenever we talked about them. Even their rumors bred a lifetime of fear—monsters quick as the wind and sharp as knives desperately trying to rebuild the bodies stolen from them. Their flayed victims still haunted my dreams.

  “It’ll be justice,” I said softly. Anyone who’d killed so many and could live with that, thinking they were fit to lead the people they’d sacrifice so quickly, didn’t have a place in this world. “Doesn’t mean I’ll torture them. Just kill them.”

  “Just kill them.” Rath laughed and made the sign of the Triad, hand lingering over his heart. “You even sleep last night?”

  “Napped a bit.”

  He sighed. “A distraction all you need?”

  “Enough for his guards to leave.” Grell always barricaded himself in his room and ran the numbers after a job came in. He never let his guards inside, but he stationed them at the door in the hallway. He’d be alone all day. “Long enough for me to get inside.”

  “Fine, but you owe me.” He dragged me off the bed and squeezed my shoulder. “Go. I’ll have them gone by the time you get there.”

  Lady bless him.

  The hallway outside Grell’s room was empty and silent by the time I got there. I rapped on the door. My chest ached with each deep, steadying breath, and I shifted. Something about what I was about to do writhed in my chest and tightened my throat. Grell had a bounty on his head—dead or alive. He had it coming.

  “In.” Grell’s rumbling voice rolled through the cracks in the door.

  Grell lounged at his desk in a haze of smoke. I clicked the door shut and locked it behind me. With his eye pressed to a jeweler’s scope and focused on a jasper ring, Grell didn’t notice. I edged forward and ducked my head, and he eventually glanced up at me. The bag of knucklebones on his desk rattled when he moved.

  Waiting was fine. We were nuisances, and he was gracious enough to see us. Grell loved power plays. Me playing along meant I wasn’t here to surprise him.

  I was starting to wonder if I should’ve gone with surprise instead but too late now.

  “What’s this about?” He hacked into a handkerchief. He’d been like me once—small, underfed, overworked—but he’d used the years of robberies and money to his advantage.

  His giant frame was all muscle and show. Street fighting had built his empire and his temper, but it ruined his left shoulder, right knee, and ribs. They’d snap with a good hit if the easy way failed.

  “Rath’s crossed you.” I pinched myself to keep my lies focused. “He’s going to try to buy his way out.”

  Grell lurched to his feet and leaned against his desk, towering over me with all his scars and muscles.

  “And you want what for ratting him out?” Grell spread his arms in the least welcoming embrace I’d ever seen. “Doesn’t breed confidence keeping you around.”

  “I don’t want to run with him anymore.” I fidgeted in fake fear and shuffled forward, pointing to the map of Kursk on the wall. Grell followed. “If he’s planning on splitting, he’ll muck us up. I’m not getting hanged because he’s thinking about leaving.”

  “One job.” Grell leaned over my shoulder, exhaled sweet blue smoke, and tapped the map with a crooked finger. “Then you go back to your lot, and I replace Rath.”

  “Thanks.” I yanked the pin with my name on it from the wall. It was heavy and thick, with a point sharp enough to pierce thin wood.

  “No reward for snitching.” He tore Rath’s pin from the wall and tossed it aside. “Get out.”

  I buried my pin in Grell’s neck. He flailed and clawed at his throat. I spun, my back hitting the wall. He reared, face pulled up in a wild, openmouthed sneer, and swung for my face. I caught it in the forearm and the hit shook my bones. His fingers curled around my arm.

  Shit.

  He flung me across the room. I skidded over his desk, knocking papers and jewels to the floor and cracking my head on the ink blotter. I blinked away the black and pulled my knees to my chest. Grell gurgled.

  Lady bless, I’d messed up. He’d a pin in his neck, wasn’t down, and was spitting angry. I yanked the knife from my boot.

  Grell threw himself at me. I rammed my heels into his chest.

  His ribs snapped.

  Grell smacked backward into the wall, blood oozing from under the hand clutched to his neck. I slid off the desk, floor rolling beneath me and pain aching at the back of my head. I gripped the desk and swallowed the bile in my throat. My ears rang.

  “I meant to be quick.” I slurred, my mind a step behind. “Sorry.”

  Grell’s red-rimmed eyes fluttered open. Spurts of blood painted the wall, and he blinked at me. His breathing was quick and frantic, chest too tight, and I knelt before him. He tightened the hand around his neck.

  “Nothing personal.” I stepped on his free arm, pinning it to the floor, and flipped my knife around. “But I need a hand.”

  Grell tried to tug at my bootlaces, fingers weak, and I pressed my palm to his chest. His heart thrummed beneath my hand as it struggled to keep up with the hole in his neck. I slipped my knife between his ribs, slick and easy. Grell gasped.

  His heart stopped.

  His hand fell.

  I eased away, bitterness stuck in the back of my throat. My knife clattered to the ground. Scattered gold and finger bones rolled around my feet as I pried Grell’s old sword from the wall behind his desk. My heart tried to beat its way out of my chest.

  I’d the appropriate skill.

  I took another breath, fingers catching up with my thoughts as I grasped the sword with both hands. I sliced the blade through Grell’s wrist. His bones snapped as easily as Rath’s, and the scrape of metal against him shuddered down my spine. The sword slipped from my trembling hands.

  He was only Grell.

  He wasn’t good, not even a little bit. He’d taken nine-year-old Rath’s finger with a laugh and a sharpened knife.

  Opal wouldn’t be bothered. Grell had to die, and I had to do it, like Opal with one of Our Queen’s marks. Wasn’t anything wrong with this.

  This burning weight writhing in my chest and bubbling up my throat had no place in Opal’s life.

  I coughed, heaved, and lost my breakfast in the corner. Up and out, no more of that. Nothing left to make me sick over killing Grell. He’d made his choices, and I’d made mine. I would be Opal.

  With Grell da Sousa’s hand heavy in mine, I fled.

  Four

  I left town soon as I was done scrubbing the blood from my tunic. I fit in well enough with the other dust-covered travelers on the wagon heading to Willowknot, the city next to the new palace, but I ran out of money after three days on the road. All I could do was pick at the dried blood under my nails.

  I
wasn’t used to all that happened with Grell. I’d not been able to stand the sight of blood for years after the war. It was too wrong, too against everything I’d been taught as a kid. Just had to get familiar with it again.

  My home, Nacea, had been small, wedged between Erlend and Alona and ruled from afar by Erlend lords. A territory allowed to keep its queen and god in exchange for tribute.

  Then Erlend and Alona went to war and called their mages to the front lines. Nacea didn’t deal in magic. The Lady, our godly Lady of Nacea, was not to be stolen from. She wasn’t human or flesh but magic in every form. Mages used her up, forced her into the old handwritten language of runes, and devoured her power.

  She devoured them right back—runes rotted their flesh and minds, leaving nothing but mindless souls.

  Shadows of the people they’d once been.

  The Erlend mages didn’t know, of course. They’d never pushed so far, tried so hard for innovation than during the war, but the damage was done. The perfect soldiers they’d tried to make couldn’t be called back. The shadows had no bodies and no minds, only broken souls, memories of a face, and an all-consuming need to get back their stolen flesh. They scoured the lands looking for themselves and flayed the skin off any they found.

  Erlend’s lords realized their mistake too late but not too late to save themselves and ruin Nacea.

  I dreamed of a family I couldn’t recognize in death, of neighbors’ faces stitched into a patchwork of skin. There’d been no help, no aid, and no memorials. We’d been forgotten.

  I would make Erlend remember.

  “Lady, help me.” I tilted my head to the sunny sky, looking to where The Lady’s stars would be tonight.

  There was no room for gods in a world of monsters and monstrous men, but tradition endured.

  “She’s helping herself.” My neighbor in the carriage waved a freshly calloused hand toward the horizon. He was new to hunger, clinging to the family crest around his neck that would fetch plenty if he sold it. Runes decorated his arms. An old out-of-work mage. “A shadow on Erlend’s rising sun.”

  An Erlend mage who thought I was speaking of Our Queen.

  I scowled. The wagon I was taking to Willowknot collected people at each turn, and my seat was more knees and elbows than wood. Grell’s hand, wrapped in three old sacks and perfumed linen, was wedged under my thighs. I’d no space to stretch and no patience for asses.