Page 3

2

brUTES, BEASTS, & VERMIN

ELYRIA

Raefe dragged the finger that had been circling her ankle up the outside of her leg, following the seam of her pants. Elyria drew a sharp breath when he reached her thigh, her heart pounding in her chest. His hand snaked slowly over her leather breeches in a checkerboard pattern—back and forth, up and down—like he was trying to memorize the shape of her.

Revulsion coursed through her veins, hot and fierce. She refused to let it show on her face, though she couldn’t help writhing as he neared her inner thigh. She was bracing herself for his touch to go further—to go too far—when he stopped. With a wicked grin, he moved to the other side of the table and repeated the same thing on her other leg.

It took a moment for Elyria to calm her thundering heart enough to realize that something wasn’t right. To realize that the path Raefe traced up her body prickled—that it burned . Her skin was on fire, the leather of her breeches scorching.

Her first thought was that his touch was just that repulsive, but it soon became all too clear that the sensation was not in her head.

Her skin was burning.

Raefe was a flamecaller, and he was branding her through her clothing.

The guffaws of the men pinning her down were a horrific chorus in Elyria’s ears as pain finally dawned on her face. Sweat beaded on her brow and she thought she might crack a tooth from how tightly she clenched her jaw. But she would not scream, even as she thrashed against the table.

The slightest breeze wafted over her legs as she did, a cruel respite for her scalded flesh that didn’t last nearly long enough. It was quickly overshadowed by a dark understanding of exactly what Raefe was doing as his white-hot touch seared through her breeches, leaving them in tatters.

He was stripping her bare, inch by excruciating inch.

If nearly suffocating before hadn’t sobered her up, the scorched path Raefe was carving into her skin certainly did the trick.

The stench of charred leather and burnt flesh wafted into her nose. Elyria nearly vomited. She cursed her traitorous body when tears slipped from her eyes, dripping into her ears. Still Elyria refused to give Raefe or his lackeys the satisfaction of hearing a single whimper.

She could take it.

She’d survived worse.

But it hurt. The pain was overwhelming. And while Elyria had no doubt she could survive the torment, she could also feel... it . Stirring, awakening, deep inside her. That inner darkness that she spent so much of her energy, so much effort to keep contained.

Admittedly, at this moment Elyria didn’t mind the thought of Raefe getting a taste of that darkness. He had, after all, sought her out for it. “This is the might of the Revenant?” he’d complained. If he only knew what he was asking for.

What Elyria knew was that however satisfying it might feel to let the darkness out to take care of Raefe and his men...it would still not be worth the cost.

This needed to stop. Now.

Elyria wrenched her neck, looking around her in a desperate bid to see if there was anyone—anything—left in the tavern that might help her. Any potential ally. Any possible distraction.

The tavern was empty.

Empty, save for . . .

From the corner of her eye, Elyria saw Artie rise from behind the counter. She shook her head, just a degree in each direction. A tiny warning.

The tavern master gave Elyria a purposeful look, placed a small plant on the bar—no bigger than the palm of his hand—and ducked back down behind the counter before any of the men noticed.

A sense of calm washed over Elyria. Her consciousness reached toward the plantling, feeling for its energy, the magic thrumming in its cells. Full of potential, full of possibility.

Full of growth.

She did her best to still her body, to cease her writhing, despite the blisters she could feel forming on her legs.

Raefe’s finger stilled. He met her eye, his expression shifting. Puzzlement. Wariness.

“What’s this, then?” he said, whispering as if speaking only to himself.

Elyria closed her eyes. She exhaled. “It’s just that I truly do hate that I’ve disappointed you. Allow me to rectify that.”

Her eyes snapped open. They burned silver with cold fury. Power thrummed along her skin, wisps of energy seeping off her like smoke. The men holding her wrists and ankles inhaled sharply, and their grasp loosened by a fraction.

Raefe’s head whipped from side to side as he tried to make sense of the shift in the air, as he searched for the cause of this sudden change in Elyria’s countenance. Shadows blurred the edges of her vision as he locked eyes with her once more.

And then she saw it.

Fear .

Elyria smiled.

She flexed her hands, splaying her palms even as her wrists were still pinned by Raefe’s increasingly confused henchman. Vines sprouted from the planter on the counter, shattering the tiny terracotta pot as they erupted. They split, lengthened, multiplied, and in an instant, all four men were suspended by their feet, wrapped from neck to ankle in thick vines.

“She’s a wildshaper!” cried one of the men.

“You bit—” yelled another, but a vine snaked around his mouth, cutting him off before he could get the word out.

Elyria bit back a laugh. That was putting it mildly.

Raefe’s gray eyes were wide as the vines curled up the length of his body, but he said nothing. He made no sound at all, save for the labored inhale and exhale of breath as Elyria’s vines tightened around his chest. Then a sort of choking, gagging sound as one crawled into his mouth. Elyria shook with the effort it took to be just as slow and deliberate with Raefe as he had been with her.

Elyria sat up with a groan. Ignoring the muffled screams coming from around her, she peeled back the scraps of leather that had once been her pants. She frowned, wincing as she prodded one particularly heinous section of her right thigh.

Artie poked his head up from behind the bar and assessed the scene—a half-dozen men hanging upside down, engulfed in vines—with stony disinterest. “All right then, lass?” he asked Elyria, and maybe she just imagined it, but she thought she saw relief flicker over his face. Thought his voice sounded thicker than usual.

“I’ll live,” she grunted, pain overtaking her senses as she shifted one of her legs. Her magic was nearly spent keeping her attackers bound, but Elyria called forth what little remaining energy she had. She wrapped her blistered, burning legs in tendrils of healing magic. The relief was immediate. Her thighs still stung, throbbing as if each leg had its own heartbeat, but it was manageable. And it would do until she got to a healer.

“Ye’re sure?—”

The door burst open. A gaggle of city guards poured into the tavern, interrupting whatever Artie planned to say. They hauled the two female members of Raefe’s merry gang in with them, their wrists bound and gags over their mouths.

“Ah, officers, excellent timing, as always,” Elyria said drily. The muffled screams of agreement coming from both the shackled women and Elyria’s own vine-bound attackers indicated they either did not understand or did not agree with her sarcastic words.

“What now, Lightbreaker?” said the guard at the front of the pack, sounding tired. He wore a captain’s emblem over his left breast. She thought his name might be Zaric, though admittedly, she had not been in a particularly reliable state of sobriety during their past encounters.

Elyria got to her feet, her hands raised in mock surrender. “Wasn’t me this time, sir. I swear it.”

Zaric snorted. “Regardless, I must insist you release those men.”

“They are hardly men, Captain. Cowards? Yes. Brutes? Absolutely. Beasts? Without a doubt. Vermin? In?—”

“I do believe we understand your meaning,” Zaric interrupted.

“ Regardless ,” Elyria said pointedly, “I am of the opinion that they require a bit more time to consider the consequences of their actions. They attacked me, unprovoked. Destroyed the tavern. Ruined my favorite pair of breeches.” She motioned to her barely covered legs and several of the guards’ eyes shot to the ceiling, their faces red. One of the female guards standing next to the captain looked personally offended. “I remain unconvinced they’ve learned their lesson.”

Artie huffed in agreement.

“A likely story.” The female guard stepped forward, blowing a lock of short copper hair out of her eyes with a huff. Elyria wondered if she knew her. “Just how much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Taryn,” Captain Zaric cautioned.

“For this would hardly be the first time we were called to break up a tavern brawl—called to this very tavern—only to find you attempting to hide all manner of sins,” Taryn sneered, undeterred by the captain’s warning.

Elyria’s gaze turned cold as she assessed the guard. “Do I know you?”

Taryn’s jaw flexed but she barreled on, ignoring the question. “And even were you being truthful, preposterous as the concept may be, the punishment of these men is not up to you. It is to be decided upon by Lord Corlyn.”

“Enough, Taryn.” Zaric shot her a silencing glare and she stepped back into line with her fellow guards.

“The girl speaks the truth,” Artie offered. Elyria’s eyebrows shot up at his unexpected assistance. It seemed to shock the dwarf as well, as he was quick to add, “For once.”

Zaric sighed. “Release them, Lightbreaker. I won’t ask again.”

Elyria glowered at the captain as she curled her fingers in, drawing her hands into fists. The vines retracted, and all four men dropped to the ground with a satisfying thud .

“Get them on their feet. We’ll haul the lot of them to the jail, question them there,” Zaric commanded his guards.

Raefe’s voice filled the air, hoarse and labored. Elyria kept her fists clenched tightly at her sides for fear she’d claw his lips clean off. “C-Captain, I th-thank you f-for interce-ce-ceding,” he started, though those were the only words he could get out before dissolving into a coughing fit. Doubled over, his hands on his knees, Raefe hacked and retched so animatedly that even his own flunkeys stepped away.

“The others aren’t acting like that. What’s wrong with him?” asked Taryn, her gaze pinned on Elyria.

“No idea,” Elyria said with a shrug, though she grinned inwardly. “Are we done here? I have quite some sewing to do.”

“Sorry, Lightbreaker,” said Zaric. “You’ll need to come with us as well.”

“Surely that’s not ne—” Artie began to object, but Elyria held up a silencing hand.

“It’s fine. No need to shove it down my throat,” she said, throwing a wink in Raefe’s direction. He paled several shades and began retching anew. “I’ll go, assuming you have some spare breeches for me at the jailhouse.”

“I imagine we will be able to find you something,” said Zaric as Taryn muttered something under her breath.

Elyria whipped around to face the guard. “What was that?”

“Taryn.” Zaric’s voice was deep with reprimand.

“No. If she has something to say, I want to hear it.” Elyria drew up to her full height as she turned to face Taryn. The two were evenly matched in terms of stature, though Elyria was not nearly as muscled. Still, she was the Revenant. Furthermore, she’d done nothing that she knew of to warrant Taryn’s ire. If nothing else, surely her reputation warranted a modicum of respect from the guard.

Taryn did not agree.

“I said,” she spat, her grass-green eyes shooting daggers into Elyria’s emerald ones, “perhaps if you spent more time singing your ditties and less time spreading your legs for every man, woman, and nocterrian in Coralith, you’d have enough gold to buy your own stars-damned breeches.”

The air in the tavern was suddenly impossibly thick.

“Well, shit,” muttered Artie, shuffling surreptitiously until he was safely behind the bar again.

“Four hells, Taryn, this is not behavior befitting of the city guard,” Zaric reprimanded.

Elyria barely heard him. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Is that what this is about?” Her eyes narrowed on the smug expression on Taryn’s face. “Did I snub your advances? No...something tells me I’m not quite your flavor. Perhaps I stole a prospect from you? Spent my evening with someone who had been of particular interest?”

Taryn’s pompous grin melted into an ugly sneer. It bolstered Elyria, who could feel that inner darkness stirring in her chest once more.

“Or perhaps it was someone already close to you?”

Taryn flinched.

Elyria pounced. “Was it someone who made you promises? Who told you they belonged to you and you alone?” she continued. “If so, you can hardly hold me responsible for their actions. Though whatever would possess them to step out on you, I couldn’t possibly imagine.” Elyria’s smile was feline, lethal. “You’re such a treat.”

“You don’t even remember.” Taryn’s voice was quieter now.

“I’ve walked this land for two hundred and sixty-one summers. My list of satisfied lovers is longer than the Chasm is deep. You cannot possibly expect me to remember the name, face, and”—she flicked her gaze from Taryn’s hair to her toes and back again—“associates of each one.”

Elyria found the guard’s answering snarl deeply satisfying.

“That’s enough,” muttered Zaric, though he took no additional pains to intervene. For a moment, however, it appeared as though that was enough. Taryn broke her stare, shooting her eyes to the floor, and Elyria turned toward the tavern doors once more.

“Whore.”

A greater woman might have taken the insult in stride, but Elyria was tired. She had just endured the feeling of her own skin melting under Raefe’s torturous touch. Her magic was spent. Her patience nonexistent.

Still, Elyria tried. And when the slur was repeated, when the word cut across her ears, sharp as a knife, she took a deep, steadying breath.

Then another.

It was to no avail.

Because there it was.

The darkness. The shadow inside her.

Alive.

Raefe’s torture had awoken it, and now it searched. It yearned. It begged to be unleashed.

And Elyria didn’t know how to stop it.

So, she did what any sensible person would do.

She reared back and punched Taryn, a sworn member of the city guard, square in the face.

The rest of Captain Zaric’s squad swarmed—as she knew they would. They descended upon her, pushed her to the ground—as she knew they would.

And when one of them smacked the back of her head with their baton—not once, not twice, but three times before consciousness began to leave her—Elyria smiled.