Page 24

The flower shop.

This is where Maeva Cale has resided since last week, according to the barkeep.

He claims the only time she’s left is to raid the tavern for more bottles of ale.

Everyone in town is afraid to enter the shop, worried she might harm them.

Yet, she doesn’t have a history of violence according to the barkeep.

Until a week ago, everyone thought she was a Null. Apparently, they were wrong.

I tsk. You’ve made this too easy for me, Maeva Cale. You should’ve ran when you still had the chance.

I square my shoulders, placing my helmet on my head. “Don’t let your guard down for a moment. If what the barkeeper says is true, she could be easily provoked,” I command.

They nod in agreement.

My shadows curl deep within, wanting to unfurl from me.

I tamper them down, allowing my mind to only focus on my target.

Though I’m adept at both swordsmanship and wielding my ability, I prefer to use my sword—a more honorable fight.

However, if this woman is foolish enough to use her ability, I’ll gladly allow my shadows to work.

Hopefully, just the sight of the four of us will be enough to keep her from reacting rashly.

As we stride through the front door, a tiny bell chimes, announcing our arrival.

Immediately, I’m hit with the stench of stale ale and tangy iron mixed with the sour scent of withering flowers.

The putrid smell causes my nose to wrinkle as I observe the shop.

The main floor is in disarray. Broken vases are scattered and tables have been overturned.

Along the walls, the arrangements that I’m sure were once beautiful are beginning to wilt.

It’s quiet, except for the faint snores coming from deeper within the shop.

Waving my hand forward, we move as a unit.

As we near a large wooden desk, the snoring grows louder.

I round the corner quickly and what I see catches me by surprise.

A beautiful woman with matted strawberry hair in a dusty blue dress leaning against the wall, surrounded by at least a dozen empty bottles of ale.

She’s covered in dried blood from head to toe, the deepest shades along her skirt.

Since she’s still breathing, I can tell the blood isn’t her own.

“Holy Celestae,” Riordan coughs. “Does she not believe in hygiene?”

Indeed, the stench of her uncleansed body is horrendous. My guess is that she hasn’t bothered to bathe since the incidents. I walk closer, my eye catching on the pendant around her neck.

The Dragon’s Flame.

I gently nudge her foot, and her head shifts slightly to the left. No signet tattoo graces her body.

You hide it well, Maeva Cale.

As she snoozes, she doesn’t look as threatening as the villagers describe her to be.

But even I know that predators can hide amongst the flocks .

“Are we certain this is the woman we are looking for?” Laisren inquires, glancing over my shoulder.

“She has to be,” Riordan says. “I can’t imagine another reason someone would forgo a warm bath if it’s available, unless they are grieving.”

With a snort she stirs, fluttering her eyes open.

She looks down at the empty bottle in her hand and winces.

“Holy Celestae,” she groans. I clear my throat, announcing our presence.

With a jolt, her eyes move past her feet as she notices us standing just a few feet in front of her.

Her head slowly rises so she can look at us fully.

Her eyes roam over each of us until her gaze lands on me.

I’m stunned by the dark, ocean-blue eyes of the woman before me—a color so vibrant that I fear I’ll drown in her unyielding gaze.

They’re like a tempest, calling me into the eye of a storm.

They’re how I remember the skies in Zulgalros on a bright winter’s day.

Her eyes are the shade of ripe berries and delphiniums. The center is flecked with light, appearing like a tiny sun bursting forth to spread softly amongst the deep blue.

For a moment, we stare at one another. I’m worried she will try to fight us, and I really hope that she doesn’t. However, she does something that I least expect.

She laughs.

Though it’s not a jovial sound. Instead, it’s broken and bitter. It’s a tone of deep sadness—a declaration of pain.

Suddenly, she’s laughing harder. We glance at one another, unsure what to make of such a reaction.

“Has she succumbed to mania?” Riordan whispers.

“It’s possible, but I don’t think it’s mania that now plagues her,” Virgil replies.

Then, as quickly as she began, she stops laughing and wipes the liquid falling from the creases of her eyes.

“Have you finally come to end my sorrow, High General?” she asks, quietly. “Or should I say Cadre?” Her eyes roam over each of us.

“We mean you no harm,” I say tersely. “Unless you force our hand. ”

She scoffs. For such a petite thing, she doesn’t appear to be afraid of us, which I find unnerving. It’s been a long time since someone hasn’t cowered in my presence.

I clear my throat. “Are you Maeva Cale?” I ask.

Her body tenses. “I was Maeva Cale. Now… Now, I’m just Maeva,” she replies.

So, it’s true.

The insipid fools murdered her family, but that doesn’t mean she killed them. It could’ve been a misunderstanding, and everyone is confusing her with someone else. At least, I hope that’s the case.

“Did you murder the soldiers stationed here?” I ask.

“Did I murder them?” she asks, her voice lethal.

Her pupils swallow the deep blue of her eyes, as her features distort into something predatory.

“THEY’RE the murderers. THEY killed the only family I’ve ever known.

Yet you ask ME if I’m their murderer ?” She slowly shakes her head.

“No, I’m the punishment for their sins.”

Well, perhaps my assessment of her is slightly off kilter. Yet, something about her words rubs me the wrong way. “They were only following orders, Miss Cale,” I bark out. “Many of them have families and children that depend on them. Now they don’t even have bodies to bury.”

Definitely not the right thing to say to an angry, drunk woman. Fury surges through her features, and I ready myself for the possibility that she might attack.

“What about the ones they’ve slaughtered over the years?

What of the innocent Malvorian men, women, and children they string up all because of a coveted ability?

Will you blindly defend a king whose only concern is to possess more power and not care for the welfare of his people?

” she spits, tears streaming down her face.

“They destroy every speck of light that exists in this hellish kingdom. The Cales were the brightest of them all.”