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CHAPTER 4

Kage

Where the hell was it?The star tent was empty but for endless sconces with thick, dripping candles, the altar coated in bearskin, and the glass star propped on its gilded stand. Few folk brought adequate offerings to the star, even fewer made it through Aelfled’s pretentious judgment.

The old sod would be furious if he learned he’d been duped and his precious tent was under siege.

And I was running out of time.

The palace Kappi would be finished with their Havestia offerings in the alley, and the crown prince would be closing out the festival until the next Frostfell season was upon us.

I rummaged through a few woven baskets tucked behind the altar, tossing furs and linens about the space. Gaina’s illumination spell said it would be here. The woman was one of the few forest mages who seemed unbothered with battle hungry Soturi—she never held my brutality against me, so I knew she would not send me here for no reason.

With all that was happening, with hope dying for brighter tomorrows a little more each day, I could not lose one more thing.

“Dammit.” On instinct, I rubbed the trail of runes tattooed down the side of my neck and sat back on my knees when the finalbasket came up empty of anything of use. I speared my fingers through my hair, freeing a few darker pieces from the tight braid running down the center of my skull.

A bite from the chilled air breathed against the back of my neck.

“Many thanks, good sir,” came a soft voice tipped in irony.

My insides overturned. Without pause, I waved my hand over my face. Sounds of bones cracking and snapping were soft enough not to be noticed, but they still grated down my spine. After seasons of practice, the shift of my features was a small discomfort, an aggravating burn and ache.

As a boy, my first attempt of moving bone had knocked me onto my back in agony.

My jaw weakened. My nose lengthened, adding a bulge in the center like it might’ve been snapped more than once. Both shoulders took on a narrower size, and one leg shortened to add a significant limp. I made quick work of shrouding my head in the dark cowl draped behind my neck.

By the time I rose, a woman—tall with soft curves and hair like a golden rose—stepped beside me.

“Excuse me,” she said.

I grunted and drifted to one side, pointing my altered features at the grass beneath my feet. Until I took note of her attire.

Never had I seen a mage wear such a thing—in truth, all my interactions with other continents across the world of Terrea had never lent such a scrap of cloth. Crow black, and tight enough over her figure I could make out the gentle slopes of her hip bones.

The only hint she belonged in Magiaria was the fox fur wrapped around her shoulders.

Perhaps she’d come from the deep caves of Myrkfell. There, the mage folk tended to avoid stepping into society, and for all I knew they strode about their huts and rocky caverns stark naked.

The woman was lovely in a feral kind of way. Unbidden, my gaze crawled over her small nose and the apples of her cheeks, all dusted in sun-kissed spots.

The beauty of the constellations lives within your skin, Wildling.

Cut glass sliced from the back of my skull to my crown. Nolonger than a breath, there and gone, but pain was there all the same, as always whenever attempts of a shadowed past tried to fight their way to the surface. Still, this attack came abrupt enough, the heel of my hand shot to my altered brow.

The woman had moved closer to the glass star—less a star and more a simple mirror with jagged points—and seemed utterly perplexed by the tarnished edges and bubbled glass.

“Now what?” she uttered under her breath.

How long had it been since this puzzling creature had graced the lowlands? I’d be wise not to say a thing. The others were waiting and, no mistake, should we dawdle much longer, our absences would be noticed.

Still, there was a pang in my gut, a nudge to remain. Before I could logic my way free of the tent, I grumbled a quick, “Offering.”

The woman spun around, hugging her middle with pale arms dusted in the same soft freckles. For a moment, I did not breathe, not from stun or a sudden passion, no. The sight of her rammed a dagger through my skull.

I clenched my teeth, until I was certain the whole of my bottom jaw would snap. Whenever the memories tugged against the wall in my brain, the anguish spread. It infected more, shredded and clawed through my veins.

She’d sparked something, battered a memory I could not free.