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Talysse

I was right. Everyone who’s not asleep is here. A bard with a blond mustache sings the Ballad of the Sun Queen, winking at the blushing girls in the audience. Loud swarms of kids dart between the quickly put-together stands, where merchants praise their wares. The whole town is bustling with life and colors, everyone wearing their best clothes.

At the heart of the square, next to the old well decorated with decaying statues of the five Elders, remnants of Tenebris’s past glory, is the highlight of the night. The puppeteers have erected a colorful structure set ablaze by the light of many cleverly placed lanterns. The crowd is really dense there, and vendors make their way among the townsfolk, offering refreshments. As much as I’m curious about the world before the Hex, I don’t let the cardboard trees and silk flowers on the makeshift stage distract me; I am here for business. My eyes wander from face to face, searching for my partners.

“Help a poor blind woman,” a familiar voice warns me just before Squinting Ann crashes into me. Seems like the Elders are merciful tonight. Ann is generous, and her schemes always work flawlessly. She has never cheated me before and has the largest network of sinister acquaintances. She looks around to see if anyone is watching before leaning in closer.

“The tall one over there,” Squinting Ann winks at me with her dark eyes, “seems rich. Take him to Wet Dog Alley. Got four of me best boys waiting there.”

I quickly spot the tall, hooded frame, sticking out of the crowd like a sore thumb. He’s watching the play. There’s something odd about him, and as if the townsfolk sense it, there’s a wide empty circle around him. People are avoiding him as if he were a Shadowfeeder.

“Are you sure, Ann?” Doubt strangles my voice. “He looks…dangerous.”

“You don’t get to pick the targets, girl. You do it, or I’ll find someone else.” She shrugs. “Wet Dog Alley. Now,” she says before diving into the crowd, shaking her tin cup with coins and feeling her way with a stick. “Help a poor blind woman, good people.”

I frown. It’s just another job, so what is this ominous feeling clenching my gut? The man surely looks rich. One more job, and Tayna and I will be on the next caravan, away from this shit hole. I conjure the image of the tiny house with a garden we have always dreamed about. Just as usual, it works like magic. Cold, focused determination replaces the insecurity. There’s some dark allure about this stranger. The fine fabric of his cloak and his polished boots studded with steel are already drawing many eyes. Some sinister individuals, lingering in the shadows behind the merchants’ stands, have a muffled discussion, throwing him dirty looks.

Time to get to business before someone else snatches my prize. Tonight, I am wearing my best silk off-shoulder blouse. The white is not that crisp anymore, and a more observant eye would spot the telling signs of wearing off on the elbows, but it complements my sun-kissed complexion and makes my eyes stand out. Pulling the neckline even lower, I make sure my collarbones and the arch of my shoulders are on display. An emerald-green velvet shawl is draped over my right shoulder to conceal my burn scar, not out of vanity but because I don’t want to imprint myself in the memory of the rich stranger. The plan is simple: attract his attention just enough to bring him to the place where Squinting Ann’s boys will be waiting, but not leave any durable memories so that he can describe my appearance to the City Guard.

Puppets with brightly painted faces present the Final Standoff between Seelie and Unseelie—when the Unseelie vanquish the army of the Seelie Queen and win the war, triggering the Elders’ Hex. It is supposed to be a tragic event, leaving tens of thousands dead and destroying our world. Still, the misfitting merry music and the witty comments of the puppeteers cause ripples of roaring laughter among the crowd around the booth. It is one of these rare moments when Tenebris does not appear as the cruel, gods-forsaken place it is. Lifting the gray woolen skirt borrowed from Myrtle last week, I flash some ankle and make my way through the audience. An oblivious bystander would see a young woman trying to get to the front row to see better, but I am moving purposefully to the tall man, hoping that he is a rich and naive merchant, romantic and desperate for a flirt with a stranger from this Elders-forgotten place and not some experienced mercenary who’d see my game right through.

Deliberately stepping on some feet and pushing people with my elbows, I make it to the stranger Squinting Ann has chosen. Too tall and broad-shouldered, his cowl is pulled low over his face but doesn’t cover the black and gold jerkin beneath his cape or the expensive deer-leather riding boots with onyx spurs. There is something alien, dreadful, and enticing about this man, something that makes butterflies flutter in my gut and urges me to run at the same time. Unsure if it is his powerful warrior frame or the shimmer of a concealed blade at his thigh, I have to make an effort to silence the alarming bells in my head. Squinting Ann’s boys will manage to overpower the foreigner and relieve him of his purse; they’ve managed to handle bigger men than him.

Routine kicks in, and I assume my role as bait. We are so close that the unusual heat of his body penetrates my thin blouse, and I flip my thick, dark braid away from my unscarred side, displaying the long line of my neck. “You are a shameless flirt, Talysse; if it wasn’t for your scruples, you could have made it great in my line of work,” Myrtle has always said.

Casting a casual look back, I make sure that he had noticed me and nearly let out a gasp.

Elders help me; I’ve never seen a man like this. Thick black eyelashes cast shadows over blue-green eyes, which faintly glow in the shadow of his cowl. In Tenebris, sparkling colors like this exist only in the murals in the Temple of the Elders, their nuances so deep and pure that they seem to glow. The bards would call this shade “dreamy,” and for all the damsels in their ballads, it spells TROUBLE.

There is an odd iridescence in his irises, similar to that of the back-alley cats when they stalk their prey in the gloom—something not entirely human. His head cocks, and the light of the stage lanterns falls on his full lips, curling into a barely-there smile as if he doesn’t want to admit his amusement.

His attention shifts back to the stage, where a life-sized puppet with bright red cheeks and long hair made of yellow yarn descends from a cardboard-cut Holy Mountain. The Sun Queen has failed her mission to beg the Elders to lift the Hex. The show will be over soon.

Long fingers hold the intricately embroidered fabric of his cowl, ensuring it stays in place. The stranger seems to want to remain anonymous. Hmm, that might be useful. His hand is graceful, but the callouses on his fingers betray a warrior. As much as I try to remain professional and not get curious about the man who’d be beaten to a pulp by Ann’s boys soon, I cannot help it. What is he doing with the merchants’ caravan? Maybe he is really one of the mercenaries from the Free Cities hired to protect the travelers?

Something is disturbing in the way he pulls his hood down and wraps himself in the gray cape as if trying to blend in, to pass for someone poorer and more insignificant than he is. Very odd. Usually, it is the other way around—men try to look richer and more important than they are. Despite his efforts to remain hidden, I catch myself glaring at the swell of a strong neck and a defined jawline.

Trouble.

There is that hint of a smile again in the shadow of his hood. A white line of even teeth flashes between his lips, and again, there is something alarming, something worrying enough to make me frown and almost abandon the plan. His incisors are too long to be human. They dig into the flesh of his lip as if to suppress a laugh. And something inside me tightens up like a bowstring.

The opportunity to set the plan in motion arises when some kids run past me, shoving me lightly. Flailing my arms around, I land in the stranger’s arms and melt in the warm, tight grip of lean muscle.

“Thank you for catching me, dear sir,” I mumble, doing my best to blush and appear really mortified by the situation. His nostrils flare as if he’s taking in my scent while I timidly untangle myself from his arms.

“You are from somewhere far, right, sir?” I ask, trying to start a conversation. His smile widens, displaying dimples on his cheeks. I still cannot see his entire face, but I can bet that these eyes left a trail of broken hearts. He just watches me silently, another odd thing. Usually, men are very responsive, but this one seems to require another approach. The play is finished and the artists scatter to the crowd with their hats, and everyone throws some coins in them. When they reach me, I slip a hand in my pocket, and my face pales.

“Oh no! Damned children! They stole my purse!” I curse loud enough for the stranger to hear. “I’ll get them and show them—”

Without looking back, I storm off the crowded market square, heading to the scarce lights of the back alleys. This is a daring move; it’s too late for a new plan in case he doesn’t follow me. Then, my only option would be to find another job. Halfway to the Wet Dog Alley, I throw a look over my shoulder and grin—the tall man is following me. It’s unclear if he’s doing it out of chivalry or with some sinister plan of his own. I don’t care. Ann’s boys will be there. They’d do their job clean and fast and give me a fair share, just like they’ve always done.

The Wet Dog Alley reeks of urine and dog poop, and rats the size of cats scatter to the dark corners. His steps echo behind me, and, just as planned, five massive silhouettes peel from the shadows at the walls, holding thick bats.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in tonight, boys! Some fine pussy it is!” Sam drawls and whistles through his missing front teeth. Two of them grab my arms, twisting them behind me, and I do my best to look like a damsel in distress. “And the knight is coming to her rescue,” he adds darkly and stalks to the tall man.

“A knight? All I can hear is the jingle of gold in his purse,” Sturdy Tadeus adds, already swinging his bat at the stranger.

Elders help me because what unfolds before me is unreal. With a move so fast no mortal can master, the stranger has Sturdy Tad and Bloated Tammy on the floor, howling in agony, their arms twisted at odd angles, and draws the blade hanging on his side. He tenses up for a lunge at the other two boys. A lunge that would end badly for them, as no bat can stop a seasoned warrior wielding a blade.

No way I’m letting this happen. Slow Unkas’s wife is sick on the child’s bed, and he’s the only one who provides for her and their newborn daughter. Unkas and his friend release me immediately, preparing to parry. They look ridiculous compared to the battle-hardened stranger.

Atos take that greedy bitch Ann. This was a miscalculation of epic proportions. Frantically, I’m preparing to cast a spell—probably create an illusion of a city guard asking what is going on there. Illusions siphon my arcane energy within the blink of an eye, and they’re far from perfect but could create a good diversion. The mysterious man beats me to it. The walls framing the ally crack from the unleashed force, and Unkas and the other boy are hurled against the masonry.

Squinting Ann needs to compensate me handsomely for what she got me into.

Once again, on this Elders-cursed night, I fear for my life.

This is no ordinary rich man we’ve decided to rob tonight. This is a mage.

Just when I think that things cannot get worse, fate laughs into my face and…makes things worse. The stranger approaches me, his blade sheathed but his hand raised in a hard-to-decipher gesture. His cowl has slipped, and his face is fully revealed now. His lips are turned up, revealing those dimples, as if the whole thing is damned entertainment for him.

Seems like Death is finally catching up with me tonight. I turn on my heel and run into the depths of the alley, pulling down crates and kicking rubble to find the concealed tunnel—the only way out of here.

For that is no man.

The stranger is an Unseelie.