Page 11

Chapter Eleven

Talyria

I reach down, smoothing out the wrinkles of my dress. It’s a deep violet in color with silver embroidery. My hair, which I normally wear down around my ears, is pulled back with a braid across the crown of my head.

I spend a lot of time in the shadows, but for once I will have eyes on me and I intend to look my best. After all, it isn’t every day that a Thief Queen gets honored by the governor of her stone hall.

For tonight, I’m an honored guest, welcomed to a feast in the governor’s magnificent home of carven stone with her family and the other members of nobility from our hall.

None of them know that I’m a criminal, that I run a ring of thieves, that I’ve been known to assassinate if the money is good.

I’ve been hired by some of them but all through dead drops or my masked emissary who acts as the official face of my organization.

I smile to myself. It’s ironic really, I am to be commended for driving out a corrupt commander of the guard. The man got in my way one too many times, so I put an end to his career. I had the least pure motives imaginable and yet these people would honor me when I’m surely much worse.

I pause as I spot a familiar face. It’s Petrov, the second in command who I turned the captain of the guard over to. He had not been without his suspicions but did not have evidence on his commanding officer until I conveniently stole them from the man’s chambers. Right under his nose while he was in the other room.

Petrov smiles as I come closer. He’s a nice-looking man, if you’re into the straight cut noble sorts. His face is cleanshaven, and his brown hair is kept pulled back in a neat ponytail. Despite having been born Lowlander, and the tension growing between our two peoples, he has dedicated his life to making certain that these halls are safe.

There are many Higher Elves who do not appreciate the Lowlanders having garrisons of guards within our halls, but I don’t mind. After all, men who aren’t fighting for their homes and families are easily bought. Lowlander and Higher Elf alike are corruptible. I don’t care who I’m dealing with. Good business is just good business whether or not you are born in the valley or come out looking like the stone walls of the mountains.

I know it’s trouble to flirt with such a man, but I can’t help it. I slide toward him. “You should be better dressed, Captain, after all this feast is to honor you as well.”

He drops in a short bow, glancing up at me over his brows. “I could dress however I want. No eyes will be on me with you in the room. Also, it’s Commander now.” I notice the extra shining buttons holding up his white lapel and feel my eyebrows raise.

So, he got the old commander’s spot? I can make use of this. It would be useful to have the commander of the guard in my back pocket. And if it means that I don’t have to say farewell to this charming captain— I mean commander– just yet then so much the better.

I find myself smiling as I meet his eyes. “Well, then, Commander, are you ready to celebrate our victory?”

He straightens, extending his arm to me. “After you, my lady.”

I give him a flirty wink. “How about beside you, my lord? After all, we brought down this man together.”

“Indeed,” he says after a moment. He hesitates for a second but then throws a smile my way. “I look forward to seeing what else we can accomplish together, Talyria.”

“Victor!” I cry as horror pulses through me, deadening my limbs. Am I a widow again? Already?

I haven’t even had a chance to get used to the idea of having a husband and now I have to come to terms with the fact that I lost him?

Pain comes crashing into me, but not necessarily for Victor. I’m taken back to another time. I see Petrov in front of me, three swords protruding from his torso as he gives me a weak smile. “I don’t suppose now is the best time to say that I want to start again,” he had whispered, blood dribbling down his chin as his arm carefully cradled his chest.

I let out an angry cry. It’s a hollow, feral sound, and it echoes through the wine cellar as I grip Victor and roll him off of me. He is a dead weight in my arms which are shaking so hard that they almost give out, he sags back into me.

When suddenly another pair of hands appears, grabbing Victor’s arms and helping to roll him off me.

“Gods, Victor, are you all right?” Estelle gasps from where she is kneeling next to us. She raises shaking hands to cover her face. She looks miraculously unharmed despite the glass shards that flew absolutely everywhere.

I sit up, turning my attention to Victor who is lying there with his head lolled to the side. Dark locks of his hair fall across his pale face. I reach out a hand, fearing what I’ll find when suddenly Victor’s eyes fly open.

I gasp and fall backwards as Victor groans and reaches up to shove his hair back. He glances between me and Estelle and frowns. “What are those looks for?”

“Victor!” Estelle says, smacking his arm. “We were sure you were hurt.”

Hurt? I was certain that he was dead.

It may have just been glass, but I know the power of sorcery and how quickly a person can take a regular object and make it become a deadly projectile.

By all accounts, Victor should be dead unless this sorcerer is a fool who does not know his own craft. Somehow, I find that hard to believe. The sorcerer knew how to create his own weapons with the shards of glass only to fumble now?

Victor sits up, and he doesn’t even grimace. “As you can see. I’m not.”

I reach out a hand, resting it against his jacket. I run my hand up and down his back and when I pull it away, I see crimson.

Blood.

Victor’s deep brown eyes lock on my hand before they raise to me. “It was just a scratch.”

Before I can press further for the truth that this man is clearly withholding from me, the door bursts open and Victor’s father rushes in. It takes me a moment to realize that everyone else must have left the room in the panic of the flying glass because it’s only Victor, Estelle, and I here kneeling on the floor.

“Sweet Thyre’s merciful breath!” Sasha cries out as he takes in the room.

“We’re all fine, father,” Victor says reaching up to rub his head with a grimace. “Well, except for the priest.”

I glance over to the man in the orange robe, I’d forgotten about his unfortunate passing in the chaos. The wine rack hides his fallen form. Dark liquid leaks out from under it although I don’t know if that’s actually blood or wine.

“My wine supply certainly isn’t either,” Sasha says with a sniff.

“That’s a few thousand crowns down the drain,” Victor’s younger sister says stepping in behind her father.

Sasha quickly reaches back, grabbing his daughter and ushering her out of the room. I hear his voice echo back. “Not that it matters compared to human life.”

“It’s going to set us back months!” his daughter protests.

I glance at Victor who just smirks and shakes his head. “Sometimes I think she is better suited to inherit the inn than me.” He pushes to his feet. Glass falls out of his coat as he moves. I eye it up, but the dark material hides any bloodstains. Still, I notice several tears in it that causes the fabric to gape slightly. Victor holds out his hands to Estelle and me and pulls us both to our feet.

I shake off the folds of my own tunic in case any extra glass got on me, but it seems as though Victor’s human shield kept me safe. Miraculously it kept him safe too, but he couldn’t have known that.

I reach out, smacking him in his stomach.

“Ow!” Victor cries in shock. “What was that for?”

“For you trying to sacrifice yourself for me. Don’t do that,” I snap at him.

In response, he holds up his hand, spinning the silver ring on his index finger with his thumb. “I’m your husband. I think I’m morally obligated to.” Victor gestures with his head toward the door. “But we can discuss this in more detail later. Right now, we need to figure out what to do about the sorcerer.”

“To do?” Estelle asks, her voice going high. She pulls her hands to her chest, twisting her fingers together nervously.

Victor glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “I can’t very well allow him to keep killing people in my inn.”

“Or her ,” I say, frowning. My sister Corallin is a sorceress. Could she have done this? It’s true that she was a part of my criminal empire in the past, she was a vampire, but her skills revolved around thievery and stealth. She never much had the stomach for killing.

I sent my other men for those jobs.

Still, there’s no knowing what she has become in the past thousand years. For all I know, my sister is gone, and she has been replaced by someone else entirely. Someone who would deny me?

Someone who might even kill.

I shudder to think of it, but that isn’t something I can rule out. Especially since I saw the look she gave Victor when Valentine handed him that book.

If my sister thinks she can get away with trying to kill my husband, then I’ll give her a family reunion she’ll never forget. I lived without her for a thousand years. I spent two decades believing that she was dead, I can keep on believing that if she crosses me.

Just after I make certain that it’s true…