Page 37 of Dark Bringer (Lord of Everfell #1)

Kal

S he gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, barely recognizing the woman who stared back. Her curly hair had been bleached and frosted pink at the tips. Sparkly powders and creams made her brown eyes bigger and her lips poutier. She practically glowed .

The aptitude test had not gone well. Unfortunately, swashbuckling captain of a merchant ship wasn’t on the list of careers. She could have aced the questions to be a gem broker, but it was too risky. Kal might be an expert, but Kyra Navarra didn’t know a thing about mining.

Now, auto mechanic— that sounded interesting. But her math scores were too poor to qualify. Which made her fit for only one profession, according to the Lenormand School.

The beautician track.

Now she was stuck in classes about hair and makeup, surrounded by girls who whispered behind their hands every time her Pota Pras accent slipped out.

“You should’ve seen their faces when you asked for a warshcloth ,” Durian said, followed by his donkey laugh.

“Shut up,” Kal muttered, looking around to make sure the bathroom was empty.

Durian grinned at her in the mirror. He came and went as he pleased, and she had given up worrying about it. Kal figured she was having some kind of mental breakdown, but a mouthy ghost was the least of her problems.

“Look,” she said, exasperated, “the food is decent, the beds are clean, and I doubt the White Foxes will look for me here. That’s enough for now.”

“Is it though?” He tilted his head. “What if they do come looking? You can call yourself any name you want, but that tattoo won’t lie.”

She turned her head, checking her neck in the mirror. The upside of learning cosmetology is that she’d blended a foundation to perfectly match her medium-brown skin tone and cover up the ship tattoo.

“See?” she said. “It’s hidden.”

“Yeah, but one swipe with a wet warshcloth and you’re screwed,” Durian pointed out cheerfully. “Somehow, hanging around a place infested with witches just strikes me as a bad idea.”

“I don’t disagree,” she snapped. “But to run, I need money. Which I had until those Foxes took it all from me!”

Her lips tightened as she remembered the witch upending the tin can with her life’s savings. The wind must had blown it over half the Zamir Hills by now.

“Calm down, bitch.” He flipped the hair from his eyes. “I’m just trying to help. There has to be some way you can get out of here.”

The bell chimed, signaling the end of break. Kal straightened her jacket and freshened up her lip gloss. Part of her grade was based on personal appearance. “I want to see you all shine !” the teacher would tell them.

Durian was right. Even if she didn’t get caught, two years of this shit was unthinkable.

She struggled to focus in her next class on brow styling and accidentally over-plucked her partner, leaving a bald spot, which did not go over well. Over the next few hours, she considered and rejected half a dozen plans.

She could run away anytime she wanted—that wasn’t the problem.

But she didn’t have any marketable skills to get by in a big, expensive city like Arjevica.

She didn’t feel good about stealing and sucked at it anyway, so that was out.

The smaller towns in Kievad Rus would be even worse.

Fewer jobs and tight-knit communities where a stranger would be remembered if anyone came asking.

That evening in the dining hall, she pushed the food around her plate and listened in on the conversation at the next table. Two girls were whispering fervently, heads bent together.

“—dying for a smoke,” one said. “Three weeks and I’m losing my mind. I think I’ve gained ten pounds.”

Kal vaguely remembered her roommate Elena saying something about a cleaning lady getting fired for smuggling cigarettes into the school.

“My sister sent me money for my birthday,” another girl said. “I’d pay double for a bottle of that cherry liqueur from Falin’s.”

They saw her looking and Kal hastily shoveled food in her mouth. But that night as she got undressed for bed, she mentioned what she’d overheard to her roommates.

“Everyone wants something,” Elena said with a shrug. “But the gates are locked, the walls are high, and the wards trigger if anyone tries to leave.”

“Wards?” Kal asked.

“You know, lithomancy,” Gabi said. “A few years ago, girls were sneaking out to the clubs every weekend. They messed it up for everyone when they got caught. Now there’s wards along the walls. They glow blue, but you only notice it after dark.”

Kal felt a spark of excitement. “What if I could get things? Like from outside?”

Gabi and Elena swapped a dubious glance. “If Lara Lenormand finds out, you’ll get expelled,” Elena said.

“She won’t. But I’d need to charge a commission for the risk.”

“You won’t get past the wards,” Gabi said flatly, opening one of her engineering textbooks and settling in to study.

“We’ll see about that,” Kal said. “So, do you want anything? Or know someone who does?”

“Ciggies,” Elena said immediately, as Gabi added, “Romashka chocolates. I’d give my left tit for a box.”

By lights-out, Kal had a list and a wad of bills. As soon as the dormitory fell silent, she took her peacoat from the wardrobe and shrugged it on over her school uniform. It held her most precious possession—the stash of kaldurite stones in the lining.

“This is either genius or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” Durian remarked as she eased open the window. He was sitting on the sill, arms folded and ankles crossed. “And that’s a low bar.”

Kal nearly retorted that he was the one who had egged her on, but Gabi and Elena were still awake. She gave them a wave and climbed out the window.

She shimmied down using cornices, lintels, and decorative brickwork for hand- and footholds.

Kal had wormed in and out of vertical mine shafts since she was a kid, and it was even easier than she’d hoped.

She jogged through the shadows to a deserted corner of the grounds and stood there for a moment, taking stock.

The wards were set along the wall at fifteen-cubit intervals. As Gabi had said, they glowed with ethereal blue light. Each was a circle with the Rook of Kievad Rus inside, about the size of her palm.

Kal drew a shallow breath. Time to find out if her kaldurite worked against all kinds of lithomancy.

“No risk, no reward,” she muttered.

Durian’s favorite dumbass motto.

Before she had a chance to chicken out, Kal threw herself at the ivy-covered wall, scaling it like a monkey and dropping down to the quiet street on the other side. She stood there for a moment, breathing hard, her fingers tingling.

The wards didn’t change color or react in any way. Kal listened for shouts or running footsteps. All she heard was the chirp of night insects beyond the wall and the distant sound of a car horn.

A crooked grin split her face.

* * *

The first run went so smoothly Kal almost felt disappointed.

The trendy, upscale neighborhood surrounding the school had late-night shops that carried every luxury her new clients desired.

She returned with cigarettes, chocolate, some gossip rags, and four bottles of booze. Kal was treated like a conquering hero.

By the third week, word spread. Girls she’d never seen before approached her between classes, slipping her lists and money. She expanded her inventory to include books deemed too racy for the school library and spirits of every variety.

Beyond the wall, her makeup and pink hair gave an extra layer of disguise should anyone look too closely.

With each successful transaction, her escape fund grew. In the quiet moments before sleep, she would count her earnings and calculate how much more she needed to buy passage on a ship.

“Where should we go first?” Durian would ask, his voice fading as she drifted toward sleep.

“Anywhere,” she’d answer. “Anywhere but here.”

* * *

It was a fine, mild evening in Octaver, the month of the Hunter’s Moon.

Kal strolled along, pockets heavy with contraband.

Perfume vials clinked against the miniature bottles of peach brandy the girls liked since they were easy to hide in school bags.

She’d gotten quicker at these runs now that she knew exactly where to go for each item.

Her peacoat concealed the Lenormand School uniform of skirt and leggings. A few weeks of rest and good food had transformed her from the ragged, starving creature who had first arrived in Arjevica. No one looked at her twice.

After stopping at the confectioner’s, she crossed off the last item on the list—dried apricots dipped in chocolate for Savina Agafia. Best get back over the wall before anyone noticed her missing.

Yet her footsteps dragged as she neared the school.

She was tired of the same routine every day.

A healthy breakfast of porridge and fruit, then hair and makeup classes, then a brisk walk around the sports field for exercise, then skincare and brow sculpting, then a healthy lunch, more classes, a bloody healthy dinner, studying for quizzes, and lights out.

So far, she’d bought nothing for herself, but she deserved a reward.

Kal paused before a shop window with rows of bottles that glowed amber in the lamplight.

The sign above the door read Falin’s Fine Spirits in gilded script.

She’d been in there earlier, picking up a few things for her clients.

It was almost midnight. On impulse, she pushed open the door, triggering a bell.

“Just about to close,” the shopkeeper said.

“I’ll be quick.” Kal tried to smooth out her Pota Pras accent. “A small bottle of starka, please. Whatever brand is cheapest.”

He rang it up. Kal paid from her profits and slipped out the door. She never drank at school, but a taste wouldn’t hurt. She’d earned it.

“This is how it starts,” Durian said, limping along at her elbow. “One sip of starka and next thing you know, you’re passed out in an alley getting your pockets turned out by larcenous orphans.”