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IHAD SEVENTEEN BLADESconcealed along my person, each one more than capable of killing the man in front of me. The slivers of steel tucked into my leathers would land a deadly strike before he even saw my arm move. The twin blades I had crossed against my back would be slower, but he was Mortal. Human. He couldn’t outrun me.

Any of my weapons would do, though I knew his life would end at the edge of the bloodred dagger holstered at my thigh. I only had to wrap my fingers around the bone hilt and levy the blow.

But I couldn’t kill him until I had what I needed.

“Please,” he whispered through swollen lips. A pleading look met my gaze, framed by the black eye I had given him the hour before. “I’ve told you everything I know!”

“You’ve been more obliging than most of the people I interrogate,” I said truthfully. Many of my targets waited until I spilled half their blood before they would spill their secrets. This man had caved after the third strike. He barely squirmed when I restrained him to the chair.

“I would do anything for the king! Anything! Just let me go. Please.” His last word came out as a pathetic whimper. I should have known this one was a crier.

“The king only requires one more thing of you before he extends his mercy,” I replied. My right hand rested on the white hilt of my dagger.

“Anything.” His voice cracked. Hot lines of tears poured down his cheeks as he rocked back and forth.

“A name.” I took a step toward him. He flinched. His wide brown eyes darted from my face to my hand and back again.

“I already told you. He called himself the Shadow. He hid behind the hood of his cloak. That’s all I know!” He leaned forward, fighting the ropes tied around his torso. Thick veins strained against his neck, pulsing almost as quickly as his breath. He knew what happened when the Blade was finished asking her questions.

“Not that name,” I whispered. I didn’t need any more information for the king. This name was just for me.

“What name? I’ll give you any name you want,” he said. Sweat pooled along the sparse hairs of his lip.

I needed to end this. I was being cruel.

“Your name,” I answered.

He still stared at me, but his eyes lost focus as he slumped against the back of the chair. He swallowed. “Why?”

I hated these moments most. When a person’s resolve melted away and they accepted their fate. Accepted that I would kill them. Surprise deaths were so much easier.

I lifted a gentle hand to his chin and pulled his gaze back to mine. My brown braid fell forward and tickled his cheek.

“How about a name for a name? You give me yours and I’ll give you mine.” It was all I could offer him. A sense of control in his final moment.

His brows raised as he blinked back at me. He gave me a single, slow nod.

“Mathias,” he whispered. “My name is Mathias.” His eyes traced my face waiting for mine. A flicker of curiosity replaced his dread.

“Mathias...” I said, unsheathing my dagger in one quick motion.

“My name is Keera.” His throat was cut before the last word was said.

The Shadow. I didn’t know when his name started being whispered across Elverath, but it was clear that he was building a reputation. And not just with the fish merchants of Mortal’s Landing. I heard his moniker in hushed tones all over the kingdom. Everywhere I went, hunting enemies of the Crown, his name would crop up in overheard conversations in taverns or back alleys. Always with a fearful reverence that made me uneasy. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to move against the king—if that’s even what this Shadow was doing.

I pulled out the cork of a wine bottle from the night before. I used my teeth, spitting it onto the floor of the coach that was pulling me into Koratha, the capital of Elverath. I gulped the bitter nectar as the coachman drove me toward the outer wall of the circular city. A soft muslin covered the windows, but I could still see the blurred bodies hanging from the stone wall. Mortals who had committed murder or treason. Halflings who had the gall to ignore an order. Anyone who had broken one of the decrees. Their bodies were strung up to rot. It was the king’s preferred form of communication. A message to all those who wondered if they could defy his rule.

No Mortal was above the Crown, and Halflings were expendable.

I knew this all too well. It was my job to track down criminals and enemies of the Crown. Some of them were Mortal; most of them were Halflings, trying to evade the king’s service by hiding their Elvish blood. The ones who looked human enough could live for years without being found, but eventually their ruse was discovered. A nosy neighbor would become suspicious. Someone would notice their pinched ears or faster reflexes. Or worse yet, they would cut themselves and expose the amber color of their blood. It was the sign of abomination. Of being part Mortal, part Elf.

I trailed a finger along the edge of my dagger, knowing the same blood flowed in my veins. All Halflings were owned by the king, forced into his service. I served him best through death.

I hated being in the capital, but I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to have yet another audience with the king in which I told him his enemy had been punished but named this elusive Shadow. The fisherman I killed was the third person in as many months who had traded secrets with the masked menace. None of them had a name. None of them had seen his face. Part of me wanted to believe the Shadow was nothing but myth, but even I had crossed his path once. The Shadow was real, masquerading in a black cloak, concealing his identity from those who would kill him.

People like me.

The Shadow kept me from sleeping. I didn’t even enjoy my wine at night because I couldn’t stop puzzling over the man under the hood. As the king’s Blade, I was the most skilled marksman and spy in the game. It should be my name, my cloak casting fear into the eyes of peasants and petty lords, but now they whispered of this anonymous figure.