Page 2 of In The Dark
Ezra flicks his wrist, summoning a glowing orb of light with the elemental magic of Elderheim, illuminating our walk.
All Fae of Elderheim possess the elemental magic of the realm, but only the Aetheri—high Fae of the light realm—havespecialized powers that make them unique. Ezra is a halfling like me, with only the ability to form basic magic. My abilities are limited to light orbs the size of marbles, and occasionally, my heightened sense of smell.
“Yes, did you? And did you hide your color?” He arches a brow, attempting to peek around to scan my hair. But my lip curls as I dart out of his line of sight, immediately knowing what he means bycolor.
“Of course,” I grind out. “You make it sound so dirty.”
I reach around to ensure that the auburn streak behind my right ear is still neatly pinned in place. I was born with a birthmark directly in my hair, and with the rest of my hair black, the lighter color can be spotted if you look hard enough.
I’ve never seen anyone else in the realm with a streak like mine, which is why the king insists I keep it hidden to protect my identity during one of my missions—in case I fail. Which I never do.
“Good. Just making sure. I’d hate for King Elion to throw a fit over it.” He smirks, but I ignore his remark as we continue our walk into the city, an easy silence falling between us.
Ezra and I were recruited from the orphanage at five, trained into the Veiled Brotherhood—the king’s hidden assassins, though the realm believes we’re a part of the royal guard.
The king created the brotherhood himself, favoring Aetheri Fae and halflings like us. Siphons were his primary weapon of choice, but after they grew scarce, he began handpicking orphans to eliminate threats to the crown.
Orange lamps shine in the distance, lighting the outskirts of Alvonia. The city clings to the southern side of Mount Ravenrock, carved into the mountain and surrounded by oak and rowan trees. As we step onto the cobbled streets, vined shops and lit homes line our path, orbs of light drifting lazily through the air.
A mother and her child pass in front of us, and for a fewmoments, all I can do is watch as they reach the edge of the shop to our left. A sense of longing washes over me—something that’s been more frequent lately.
I’ve never had proof that they’re alive—my parents—but I need to know.
Over the last year, my mind has constantly pulled me back to who I was before, or who I could be outside of being a king’s assassin. And for the last several months, I’ve taken that time to search for my parents—if they exist—after my assigned missions.
As much as I want to inform Ezra about my activities, I unfortunately know how that conversation will go as I’ve had it a couple of times with some of our brethren in passing. It always leads to them explaining that they’re most likely dead or gave me up willingly. Yet I find myself wanting the truth—and to close that door on my own—despite what they say, and despite the fact that I know nothing about where I come from.
Because all their words do is leave me to search for them on my own, forcing me to keep my whereabouts to myself during my missions for fear of King Elion withholding the high-profile targets I receive. It’s my only escape to other cities, and I’ve been taking advantage of it when I can.
Even if that means keeping it from Ezra.
My eyes land on the Painted Bird as it comes into view, spotting the dark red door as groups continue to weave between us.
“Are you looking forward to seeing anyone in particular tonight?” Ezra asks as the wind picks up, blowing his sandy brown hair over his set brow.
“Maybe Bess, if she’s there. I haven’t seen her in a while. What about you, anyone special you want to see?” I ask, knowing his type is typically large-breasted blondes.
It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve enjoyed Bess’s company last, and I grin, remembering her curvy features, long brownhair, and green eyes. I enjoy both males and females, but tonight I’m eager to see Bess. But liking her isn’t the only reason I’m visiting the brothel tonight.
She was the reason I was eager for my mission near Nymara—a four-day trip—having told me about a secluded orphanage and a contact for me to speak to, but that was a dead end. Again.
Ezra chuckles, scratching his jaw. “Not really. I’m just ready to have a night off.”
“You didn’t even want to come!” I exclaim, throwing him an annoyed sideways glance. “Will you relax?”
He’s scanned the area five times now. Ezra specializes in tracking, known for his observational and awareness skills. It’s why he struggles with taking time away from the castle—when we do get it—as he can’t seem to shut it off no matter the distance.
And it drives me insane.
It took all afternoon to convince him to join me at the brothel, Ezra claiming that one of the local taverns was better than having mediocre conversation in a pleasure house. We came to an agreement that he’ll accompany me first before he splits off to find a tavern.
He frowns, furrowing his brows. “Sorry, old habits. I’ll relax when we get there.” Then he smirks, playfully bumping into my shoulder as a bark of laughter escapes me.
“Oh, I’m sure you will.”
After a few minutes of walking, we finally ascend the stairs to the second level, arriving outside the red doors of the Painted Bird. Ezra bangs on it three times as we begin to put on our masks.
The popular brothel requires that you always wear a mask, apart from the courtesans. They claim that guests visit for pleasure, and to ensure their privacy without being the subject of city gossip, everyone is required to wear one. Whether you’re mated, own a business, or have a family—it’s non-negotiable.