Page 4 of Of Stars and Lightning (Sun and Shadows #1)

Two

AT NIGHT, ALL THINGS BITE

SOL FOUND HERSELF exhausted before the night even began. She battled with the notion of throwing the necklace into the Helian Ocean, but the pendant was pretty, so she vainly decided to keep it.

Yavenharrow at night was lovely, a sight she enjoyed with more ease when whispers of murders weren’t around, but she still took the scenic route—with her hand wrapped around a knife.

She walked back into town the way she came, thankful the heavy rain lasted only a few minutes while she took cover beneath the roof of some bait shops. About two miles behind the Archives, the Inns began on either side of the road. After the inns were the taverns and bakeries.

Sol had learned the taverns in the town were rowdy but fun before midnight. After that, the people became feral, thirsty for way more than just ale. But she had learned the ones to dance at and the ones meant for talking. Even Leo enjoyed the occasional dark ale, though he wouldn't admit it.

Smiling to herself, she gazed up at the inky sky to look at the stars. The town was silent, serene as night settled. Only the soft rumble of the taverns and late-night eateries vibrated across the cobblestone, evidence her home lived and thrived and enjoyed.

Sol wasn’t a fan of the stillness, it made her mind wander, and her skin tight. She needed life, a purpose, something to remind her that anything was possible in a world that liked to make things impossible. Yavenharrow fulfilled some of that incessant need— but not enough.

The rain had stopped completely by the time Sol rounded the corner to the Hound, the smell of dewy grass clinging to the air.

Her workplace was a solitary building, constructed from a mix of sandstone and clay.

There were a few stray windows from the second and third floors lit with soft amber candlelight, the only indication the place housed travelers.

Her footsteps echoed atop the pavement of the thin walkway as she passed the front lawn. She was about to push the doors open when a series of whistles made her halt.

“Hey, Keelin,” Sol said, not bothering to look behind her at her boss.

Sol knew what she would find: one of the most devastatingly handsome men she had ever seen, with cyan eyes that seemed to pierce her soul.

She had almost not taken the job when he offered it to her, for fear she would never be able to tear her focus away from him.

But he offered her a generous schedule and free food whenever she had breaks.

Plus, he never asked for her full name, something all other places had demanded.

He had only asked her to do a full turn, then threw an apron at her.

“You’re soaked,” Keelin observed, stepping up beside her and leaning his back against the door.

Sol shrugged. “It rained.”

“Not very professional to come to your shift in wet clothing, lovely.”

She cut her gaze to him. Even in the dim light, she could see his smirk. “Good thing it’s just me the whole night in there with no one to complain, huh?”

He smoothed his crimson tunic and said coolly, “I didn’t say anything about complaints.” He finished the sentence with a sly wink. “Good thing I ran into you. I’ve been meaning to tell you I will be docking your pay.”

Sol blinked. “Is this because I came in wet clothes?”

“It’s not personal, Sol.” He tugged at a stray thread from the sleeve of his beige blouse. “The trade on the Northern borders is slow. People in town are paranoid about Holden, so our business is slow. I have to find cuts somewhere.”

“Find them somewhere else.”

A smile bloomed on his lips. “Ah, Sol. I do love when you banter with me.”

“I’ll quit,” she said, crossing her arms. For a second, she meant it. She would quit and take the savings she already had to board a ship. Well, a boat, with how expensive ship travel was. Would she have enough for her and Lora?

Would a boat survive the Helian Ocean? A boat wouldn’t get her to the Scholar Towers.

“I sure hope you don’t, Sol. You’re a favorite, you know, and way more competent than the others.”

“You can’t cut my salary, Keelin.” Sol braced a hand on the door, suddenly wishing Leo was with her.

“I have to.”

“I’ll stay longer, then. Work more shifts.”

“Take it up with the rest of them.” He began walking away, catching up to a woman by the street Sol hadn’t noticed before.

“I’m the barmaid and waitress. You can’t seriously think it’s fair to underpay me,” she called after him.

Throwing an arm around the woman and leading her into the cluster of taverns down the road, he said, “Nothing is fair, Sol. Truly, I’m sorry.”

Sol watched him fade into the night for a moment, trying to decide how to react. But after the day she’d had, she decided she would deal with it later.

She kicked the wooden doors open, wondering if maybe picking a god to worship and devoting herself to them would perhaps improve her luck.

To sedate the thirst for vengeance, Sol decided to leave small inconveniences for Keelin scattered around the tavern while she worked.

She set her satchel down on a nearby chair, concluding that her first mischief would be switching the cucumbers with the squash, so when the cooks went to make vegetable stew, they would find soggy cucumbers in their pots instead.

She tossed her hair into a knot, then examined the space, searching for the boxes that usually waited for her in the lobby.

Thinking perhaps Keelin had taken them to the back for her, she began her waltz to the kitchen. The gentle crackling of the fireplace sizzled after her, the soft scent of burning bark wrapping around her in a warm hug, providing a much-needed change from the humid, rainy— Sol stopped.

She turned back toward the fireplace, bracing her hands on her hips as a dreadful feeling spread through her.

The fireplace was lit. Everyone knew never to leave it on, the routine to extinguish it was second nature after a close call years ago.

“You should really tell whoever owns this place to lock the doors, you know.”

Sol screamed, slamming against a table behind her. She struggled to keep it—and herself—standing as she clutched the wood, her heart hammering in her chest.

There were four people seated around the large table in the center of the room.

Two men and two women, obviously foreigners based on their demeanor alone.

They sat gingerly along the rectangular table, their expressions equally nonchalant.

They seemed like part of the background, somehow, as if they materialized from the shadows themselves.

“Anyone could just come in here and steal things,” one of the women said, the voice the same as the one who had spoken before.

She had long, raven-black hair that fell in a braid over her chest, the color mirroring her eyes.

She, just like the others, had on a black bodysuit, and a pair of twin swords peeked from behind her shoulders.

Sol glanced at the others, and her stomach fluttered with nerves as she realized the quartet all fashioned different weapons.

Maybe Holden had been killed by a person. A strange, heavily armed person.

“We are not going to hurt you,” the other woman said, her glowing green eyes gleaming while her auburn hair shone against the firelight.

Her skin was delicately pale, a stark contrast to her surroundings, as she extended her hands in front of her in what seemed like a gesture of peace. “We just want to talk.”

Sol took a careful step back, the bottom of her worn skirt nearly making her stumble.

Talk.

That’s what all killers said before they did way more than talk.

What could they possibly want from the Inn? Money? They’d picked a poor place for that. Holden had money, though. And he still wound up dead.

“We—we’re closed,” Sol stammered, carefully inching toward her satchel.

Her knives. She had her knives there.

“Fortunately, we aren’t here for mediocre food,” the dark-haired woman said, leaning back in her chair. “And if you think anything in that bag of yours will help you avoid us, you’re mistaken.”

The man next to the red-haired woman,—the tallest of the bunch, with deep tawny skin—shot a look at the girl. “Gods, Sawyer.”.

The dark-haired woman—Sawyer—shrugged. “Just saving her the effort.”

Sol knew she didn’t have many options. Lora would tell her to run.

So, she did.

Shifting on her heel, she stumbled back to the entrance and threw the doors open, knocking over some chairs in her way. She heard soft murmurs, then footsteps following.

Faster.

Faster.

Sol ran down the cobblestone walkway that led into the street, then propelled herself into the night. Tears flew from her eyes as the footsteps behind her grew closer. Veering to the only place she felt safe, she turned down an alley she knew would lead to the beach.

“Godsdamn it,” a male voice mumbled from behind as she evaded the holes and puddles along the narrow space. The air burned in her lungs. The smell of sweat mixed with rotten food filled her nostrils until the salty spray of the ocean greeted her as she launched herself onto the docks.

Now what, genius?

Sol wondered what she had done to offend the gods when a large hand wrapped around her bicep, stopping her from heading onto the sweet, beautiful beach.

“No—stop it!” She planted her feet on the ground and clawed at the person’s forearm. “You can take anything you want from the Inn, just let me go!”

The man pulled her against his chest, his forearm wrapping around the front of her shoulders. “You are weaker than anticipated.”

Sol panted, continuing to twist and fight her way out of his grip as he dragged them off the docks and back to the road. “Why are you doing this?” she ground out. “Please, leave our town alone!”

Sol knew once they were done with her they would move on to the next victim, continuing their search for whatever they wanted. No. She had to survive somehow, to spare others from such a fate. To tell Holden’s family she knew what happened.

“Relax, we won’t take long,” the man said, his voice too close to her ear.

We won't take long.

Panic coursed through her at the statement, enough that she did the only thing she remembered Leo telling her to do during this sort of hold.

She bit the man’s arm.

Hard.

He let out a string of curses and released her, knocking her to the ground.

She flinched as her knees collided with the solid wood of the docks, then slid away before swirling to face him.

Her breath caught, and for a moment she stilled.

The man’s eyes were moonlight and storm clouds on a foggy winter morning.

The strangest shade of silver stared back at her. He furrowed his brows as he held his forearm. “Really?”

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Why me—why Holden?”

The ships docked behind her swayed with the waves, softly clanking against one another as a gust of wind blew a chill over Sol. She didn’t dare tear her gaze away from the man, not even as he straightened.

He was perhaps a full foot taller than her, his black suit reinforced with dark armor, a black-and-purple cloak grazing over his boots.

He angled his head. “Who?”

“He was a good man!” She pushed herself back with her heels, scooting away from the weight of his glare. “Holden had a family. A wife.”

“I don’t know who that is, Sol. If you just come with me, we can explain—”

Sol.

Her jaw tightened, the sound of her name on a foreign mouth sending shivers through her bones. “How do you know my name?Who are you?”

“Come and we will explain—”

“There’s no way I’m going with you.”

Sol sprang to her feet and fumbled her way to the beach where she had been what seemed like years ago. Before she could jump from the docks onto the comfort of the waiting sand, the man threw his arms around her waist.

“PLEASE,” she begged, kicking against him. Her feet were off the ground, and with a sigh, he threw her over his shoulder.

“Irene would’ve had a sword out by now,” he mumbled.

Sol didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or if she did it out of spite, but without giving herself time for regret, she shoved her entire weight sideways, throwing the man off balance and sending them both tumbling into the frigid, hungry ocean.