Page 47 of The Pactbound Angel (The Soul Mirror Duet #1)

Old Friends in New Places

“State your business,” said the gate guard.

“We are travelers seeking rest and refuge, sir,” I replied.

He eyed me with suspicion, noting my weapons and armor. At least, I thought he was. He was covered head to toe in bulky armor, including a full faceplate. I couldn’t even tell what type of fey he was. He looked at the other guard with him, who shrugged.

My pleasant smile stayed in place.

We’re here to save you, idiot.

The guard questioned again, “How long are you planning to stay, then?”

I hummed in thought. “Not long, a few days, then we’ll go our merry way.”

The guard grunted in his throat. “Alright. You may pass.”

We started to enter, but I stopped just before going through. “One question, though. Do you know of a comfortable inn to stay at?”

That seemed to change the guard’s demeanor, as though our story was more believable. “Aye. The Black Unicorn Inn should suit you fine. It’s just up the main road on your right.”

I nodded my thanks and looked back toward everyone. “Shall we?”

As we walked through the gates of Carpatha, the dinginess of the capital city of Wistran struck me.

It was midday, but it looked dark, like a bleak miasma blanketed the entire capital.

A vaguely smokey scent filled the air, as though there was a large fire filled with wet wood somewhere in the area.

“Gods, it feels like death in here. Even more than Elancia,” my sister murmured.

As we sauntered past, only a handful of people met our eyes, and the ones who did narrowed their own in wariness. This had to be the mischief hag’s doing .

The wide avenue leading through the city was quiet for a major capital at this time of day, at least I thought so. A creaky hanging blade sign, showing a black unicorn in full gallop, made us stop.

As we walked in, the dimness outside was mirrored by the stifling interior's atmosphere. The brightly painted walls, merry fire, and smell of fresh bread did little to encourage any positive reaction to the place.

Seeing no barkeep, we glanced around. Confused, I said aloud, “Hello?”

“What do you want?” boomed a nasally voice. A rotund, dark gray fey with a dirty apron came out from a back room, wiping his hands on a cloth . He threw the cloth across his shoulder and leaned in with his meaty hands spread on the dingy bartop. He glared at me, raising his eyebrows.

Ceta fey. Like Lord Leviathus.

“Rooms, please. Four.”

He frowned. “You got coin?”

“We do.” I reached into my pouch. “How much?”

His eyes ran over us and said smugly. “One gold a night. For each of you.”

Raewyn sucked in a breath. “Awfully steep. ”

“Do you want rooms or not?” The barkeep tried to sound intimidating, but the sound was more clogged oboe than ruffian.

A handful of coins hitting the bartop pulled his attention away from my sister. I eyed the barkeep with what I hoped was a neutral expression. “The cost is fine.”

He poked through the small pile of gold coins, counting them. “That metal thing too. It needs to pay.”

“But he’s sharing with me,” Georgina protested.

“I said him too, girl,” he said to Georgina, though his eyes stayed on me. “The charge is per occupant, not per room.”

When I pulled out more coin, and plunked them down beside the others, I said shortly, “Fine.”

The coins disappeared in his hand, and he gave a broad smile. “Welcome to the Black Unicorn Inn.” He fished under the bar and pulled out four keys, each with a tag. “Here are your keys. Breakfast is at eight, sharp. Supper is at six, sharp. Miss it? Too bad.”

I grunted as a reply. The barkeep turned to go back to his work as I started to dole out the keys to my companions.

“That much gold could buy us a decent stay at the Green Dragon Resort in Camlynn, Nat,” my sister whispered.

Though I normally would have cared, my fatigue stopped my tongue from arguing and my feet from finding someplace else. “I know, but we won’t be here for more than a few days, then we go home. It’s possible we might have the same welcome in every other inn, and I’m tired.”

We went upstairs to get settled. We would need time to send word to Lord Dalson that we were here and awaiting his assistance in getting access to the castle. And I had no idea how long that would take.

Ramiren’s room was right across the hall from mine, as though it was planned.

It was late in the day by the time we managed to hire a messenger to take a message to Lord Dalson. The exorbitant price was not surprising. The city seemed to enjoy hustling strangers.

We barely made it to dinner on time. The barkeep was displeased with our tardiness, but he set out plates for us just the same.

Overly-roasted meat that looked like the unknown animal had died years ago, tough bread, sour wine, and plainly dressed beans made up our fare.

Raewyn choked the food down, but only just. Georgina stopped halfway through and pushed her plate away with a grimace.

Ramiren chugged the wine. I took one bite of the beans and decided to have the rations from my pouch once I got back up to my room.

As we waited for Lord Dalson to reply, we kept quiet and to ourselves so as to not draw attention, except we went outside the inn for food.

The innkeeper continued to receive five gold a day.

On the third day, he had exchanged his dirty apron for an embroidered doublet that looked a size too small, no doubt affordable due to the sudden windfall of our presence and my dwindling coin reserve.

Finally, that night, an intricately folded piece of vellum, sealed with gold wax, slid under my door.

“ Meet at the castle gates tomorrow at noon.”

It was not signed, and it didn’t need to be. Knocking on doors to alert the others, we all gathered in Georgina’s room with the message in hand.

“Trap?” Ramiren asked, passing the note to Raewyn to look at.

Georgina raised her goggles to the top of her head, leaving oily rings of residue around her eyes. “Could be, but if it is, then he’s going to have some explaining to do about that letter you intend to send.”

“I can’t send it if I’m dead,” Ramiren said grimly.

I took the vellum back from my sister and tapped it against my palm. “We will be wary and cautious, but he might be dealing right with us. He has much to gain from her demise, does he not?”

Ramiren’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He does. Or perhaps he plans to bargain for his mines with our hides. ”

Raewyn narrowed her eyes playfully at Ramiren. “You have a cynical mind.”

He placed his hands behind his back, standing tall, and cleared his throat. “You have to, in my line of work.”

The way to Wistran Castle was far more open than in Elancia. No checkpoints, surprisingly, but that could have been due to the fact the Tanta general was possibly murdered.

The castle and spires were made of a glittery gray stone that would’ve shone beautifully in the sunlight had there been any.

Many of the banners and flags waving from walls and parapets were ragged.

Some were hanging by mere threads. The lawns were brown and dry, despite the deluge we’d received not long ago. No courtiers milled about.

This place looks abandoned.

We arrived at the wrought-iron castle gates precisely at noon to see Lord Dalson surrounded by and talking animatedly to a handful of guards.

He smiled jovially at our approach. “Friends! You have come! I was just telling these fine gentlemen that you requested a tour of the castle, and that I was happy to oblige.”

Ramiren gave a bright smile to Dalson in return. “That would be correct. We don’t have many chances to tour the grand homes of royalty. It would be an honor to see it firsthand.”

One of the guards, presumably the captain, stepped forward. “And we told him that was not possible. The king and queen are not accepting visitors.”

Oh, not this again.

“Merely a tour. A taste, gentlemen! I have been here many times and can guide them myself.” Lord Dalson fidgeted, his knuckles turning white as he clutched his gold badge of office. I could see sweat begin to coat his forehead, even at a distance .

“No can do, Lord Dalson. Our apologies, but it just isn’t going to happen.”

Lord Dalson gritted his teeth and muttered harshly to the guard captain, “We had an agreement!”

The guard captain smirked and made no attempt to whisper. “Oh yeah? And what agreement would that be?”

Dalson’s face turned a shade of red. “You know damned well what it was. I paid good coin for-”

“Coin? I don’t see any coin. Do you, boys?” The guard captain looked behind him at the others, who shook their heads innocently.

This is falling apart.

Ramiren huffed in annoyance, though it was so exaggerated I wasn’t sure if it was real or just an act. “Very well. I told you this farce wouldn’t work, Lord Dalson.” The earl paled and began to sputter until Ramiren interrupted, addressing the captain. “The prince is expecting us.”

It took all I had to not look at Ramiren in shock.

The guards all snapped their heads towards Ramiren. The captain balked. “What did you say?”

Ramiren raised an eyebrow. “I said, the prince is expecting us.”

Lord Dalson stuttered. “He is, I’m afraid. Prince Jaylin is most anxious to-”

The guard captain held up his hand to silence Lord Dalson, without even looking at him. He kept his eyes on Ramiren. “And what does His Highness want with you?”

“This woman, specifically,” he said, indicating Raewyn. “A priestess of Minue. We had thought to keep it quiet for Prince Jaylin’s privacy, but you forced our hand.”

Raewyn winked at the guards.

The captain flushed at Raewyn’s attention, but he regained his bearings quickly. “Yeah? And why are the rest of you with her, then?”

“I am a pactmaker, brought in to ensure the pact that this priestess will have with him is legitimate. The woman in armor is my guard, as is the automaton. The gnome is my servant, wretched girl that she is.”

Goodly gods of the Tarindar, please let Georgina play along.

Georgina made a noise in her throat but did not say anything.

Beep. “Georgina says I am a protector. So, I protect.”

The guards looked at each other, nervously, before the captain spoke again, this time with a bit less skepticism, “A pact, you say?”

Ramiren nodded slowly. “Yes, that is correct.”

The captain narrowed his eyes. “Show me proof that you’re a pactmaker.”

Ramiren waved his hand, and the scroll of parchment appeared next to him in a cloud of purple smoke.

I scrunched my nose at the unexpected smell of sulfur in the air.

A loud raven’s cry echoed, and the guards looked around, spooked.

Their eyes shifted nervously from Ramiren to the scroll, and all of them stepped back. “What is that?” one asked, pointing.

“My pact ledger. It records the exact wording of a pact to ensure fidelity and adherence.”

As he spoke, his words appeared in letters on the scroll.

The guards inched forward slowly, mouths open in astonishment.

“Now.” Ramiren waved his hand again, and the scroll disappeared, startling the guards. “Shall you open the gate or shall we inform the prince that you would not let his new lover pass?”

“Well, shit,” the captain muttered. “Fine. But only you and the priestess. No one else.”

“No. All or nothing, I insist,” Ramiren glared at him in defiance. “I go nowhere without my guards and servant.”

The captain rolled his eyes. “Oh, think you’ll get jumped in the castle, eh?”

Ramiren hummed, as though unimpressed by his question. “My business is dangerous, and an assassin can hide in an alcove just as easily as an alleyway. I’m sure you and your guards are capable, but I can’t be too careful. Allow my guards to take the brunt of the labor, captain.”

The captain frowned deeply, then sighed. “Alright. Let them through.”

The guards went to open the gates while Lord Dalson rushed to Ramiren, sweat now dripping down his face. “Our deal?”

“Still intact, Lord Dalson. No one will hear of your preferences from me, spoken or otherwise. You’re as safe as a…” Ramiren smiled broadly, his sharp canines showing. “...diapered babe.”

I looked at Ramiren curiously at his wording.

Lord Dalson turned a shade of purple but said nothing as we strolled past him through the now open gates.

As we entered the castle, the dank and dark of the city seemed to be magnified.

Paintings, covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, hung crookedly on the walls on either side of the grand foyer.

The largest painting depicted a family, presumably the royal family based upon the crowns they wore.

The king stood, regal, his blond hair streaming behind him.

Leo fey. The willowy queen posed in front of him, dignified and emotionless with her white hair curled over one shoulder.

Muste fey. At their feet sat a young boy, the split image of the king, with a kitten in his arms.

“Where to?” Raewyn asked quietly.

I lifted my hand to point. “That looks like the Grand Hall ahead, with the doors ajar. Perhaps start there.”

We moved toward the open doors, my hand on my hilt and my shield ready.