7
HENRY
y morning meeting with a new contact in our Lunameade network ranM much longer than I expected it to. The man could certainly drink, especially for so early in the day. I had hoped to be in and out, but it was clear the messenger from several of the high magical houses knew the value of his information and had every intention of getting as much out of me as possible while he revealed it.
When I step into the boarding house suite and see that my mother’s bedroom door is closed, I know I’ve missed my chance to have lunch with her.
“She’s resting,” my father says. “It was a lot of stress for her to play nice with the Carrenwells at dinner last night.”
Guilt sinks in my stomach. I hate that she’s here in Lunameade instead of tucked safely back at the fort. She’s too valuable to spend so much time here, and every moment under their hawklike observation feels like an opportunity for them to find out exactly what she can do. It’s an enormous risk. I wish we had left her behind, but she insisted we had a better chance of seeming legitimate as a full family unit.
“It takes a lot out of her to smile to their faces when she knows what they’ve done,” my father says, his voice withered with weariness.
The Carrenwells are the reason Holly is gone—the reason my parents lost their daughter and heir. She was always the responsible one—the one with holy fire to protect the fort.
Holly’s smiling face still glows in my memory, her dark eyes full of laughter, her lips twisted in a mischievous smile. She loved to tease me.
She’d find this entire situation hilarious and likely be taunting me endlessly about having the very difficult assignment of flirting with a pretty girl. But that’s how Holly was; she found lightness in even the most dire of situations.
Even the day she died, she’d been teasing me not five minutes before her death blow.
When my father looks at me, I can see her absence in the heavy creases in his brow and around his mouth. His dark hair is streaked with gray. It’s cut short and styled neatly, just like his beard. It feels like he aged overnight, but it’s just as likely that managing the fort through crisis took as much out of him as Holly’s death.
He sits down in a plush chair and stokes the fire. It’s not as cold here as it is at the fort, but he gets restless without something to do with his hands.
“Your betrothed is quite beautiful,” my father says.
This is the first chance we’ve had to debrief about my time alone with Harlow. I don’t want to meet his eye. I’ve always been bad at lying to him.
“Yes, I suppose she is. Also a handful.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that she tried to kill me, but I hold back. I don’t believe her story, but if I tell my parents that the Carrenwells have already made an attempt on my life, they will bail out on this plan, and I cannot bear to meet the ten-year anniversary of their betrayal without giving the Carrenwells the revenge they deserve. Nearly ten years of rebuilding, and the driving force motivating me through it all was the promise of vengeance.
My father arches a brow. “Did she get under your skin yesterday?”
“One wrong move and she might have jammed her blade under my skin.
She carries a dagger.”
My father’s brows shoot up. “Smart. Does she know how to use it?”
I shrug. “I didn’t have the misfortune of finding out, but I appreciate the
vote of confidence in my charm.”
“So how did you know?”
I wince. I didn’t want to admit that I got so close or it might give him the wrong expectations. “I felt it.”
He grins. “I knew you’d make headway. She gave you a look when you walked into the room to sign the contract.”
Yeah, a look that said I’d nearly fucked her the night before. A split- second look of shock and lust that transformed into terror and then a forced,
placid calm.
“She expected me to look like a wild animal. To use her charming words, she was happy to see I knew how to walk on two legs,” I say.
My father rubs a hand over his beard. “The Drained are hardly the only danger in this world for a young woman. I gave your sister her first blade to fend off mortal men, not the Drained. It sounds like Harlow is similarly prepared.”
I can’t believe how casually he mentions my sister. Every time someone brings Holly up, I still feel blind with rage and grief. I feel her absence in every lull in conversation, in every failure, in every passing day when the Drained scratch at Mountain Haven’s walls.
I push through the emptiness in my chest. “Harlow is smart. She’s not
going to be easily swayed.”
“You knew that might be a possibility.”
“She’s used to safety. I assumed she’d be more pliant,” I say.
My father shakes his head. “There’s different danger here. People resent those at the top of the food chain just like they do at home. She’s used to a different type of survival. Blessed Divine, she didn’t even flinch when her father sliced her arm, and that was no scratch.”
I should have known my father would have picked up on that. I was hoping to impress him with that fact, but it’s almost impossible to be more observant than he is.
He rubs the back of his neck. “You look tired. Make sure you’re eating enough and resting. We need to be ready to head out at any time if this goes wrong.”
I blow out an exasperated sigh. “I’m a grown man. You don’t need to coddle me.”
My father holds out his hands to brace against my frustration. “I’m not trying to patronize you. I need to know you’ll get your mother out. It’s just the first time we have been away from home since the attack.”
“It won’t come to that, but if it does, I will get her out,” I say. “I can’t say I’m rested, and being here makes me feel nauseous, but I’m fine.”
My father’s eyes narrow on me as he leans back in his chair. “Just stay ahead of it.”
He says it as if I haven’t spent the last ten years living in hypervigilance every moment of every day. I know I have to forgive them for over-parenting me. It’s only like this because Holly is gone.
“And don’t let your mother see you all moony-eyed over that girl.”
I wave a hand. “I’m not moony-eyed over her. I’m just trying to assess the best entry point. She was not impressed with my conversation in the
garden.”
“What did you talk about?”
I can’t exactly say that we talked about her trying to kill me, so I
improvise. “The Divine.”
My father laughs. “Is she devout?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t get that impression, no. But it came up, along with the fact that the rebels are gaining popularity.”
My father leans forward, resting his chin in his folded hands. “That confirms what we’ve heard, which should make it even easier for us.”
“I know you trusted me with a new contact this morning, but it would help if you would put me in touch with whoever has been sending you those doves with coded messages —”
My father holds up a hand to silence me. “I let you meet with that new contact this morning. As far as established relationships go, the less you know right now, the better. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but lines get blurred where pretty women are involved, and you can’t share what you don’t know.
We have compartmentalized our knowledge for a reason. I was worried she had a manipulation blessing and would be able to crack you easily, but now I’m worried that she’ll be able to get it out of you without any magic at all.”
I know it’s a wise strategy, but I loathe being treated like a child who can’t keep a secret. Logically, I know that’s not what he’s doing, but I can’t help feeling like he would have told Holly everything if she were here.
“I know what’s at stake,” I say firmly.
“You need to be careful. There is so much more happening here. I know your temper burns hot, but you can’t let it get the best of you. We need to be impeccable and efficient while we’re here.”
I know my parents can’t help themselves. The worry is a reflex now that all their hope rests on me. If I can just do this one thing, maybe I can finally bring my parents and my people some peace. Maybe I can find it myself.
Years of restless fear have worn me down. I don’t think I could bear to show my face at Mountain Haven if I fail.
Much as I hate it, I’m a bit at a loss when it comes to Harlow. I know how to charm a woman, but I have no idea how to tame a viper.
“What did she say about the rebels?” my father asks.
I run a hand through my hair. “She shut me out immediately when I mentioned Rochelli.”
A wrinkle forms in his brow, but he says nothing else. He’s done sharing.
I stand. “I’m supposed to meet Bryce and Carter to scout the city gates.”
He nods and runs a hand through his graying hair. “Be safe and subtle.”
I nod and duck out into the blustery afternoon.
he messenger doves flop around on the ground, cooing incessantly, theirT wings spread and bodies bent at unnatural angles as they press against the bars of their cage.
“What are they doing?” I ask. “They look—hurt.”
My best friend, Carter, leans against the stone wall beside their large cage and grins. “The Dove Keeper told me that they do it because they saw a wounded dove get a treat, and now they all think if they act wounded, they will get an extra feeding.”
The Dove Keeper descends the stairs beside us and looks at Carter.
“Message sent.”
Carter nods and hands him a few coins. “Thank you.” He takes a deep breath and tips his face up toward the sky. The movement reveals the clean- shaven brown skin of his neck, and the top of a shiny, jagged scar at the base of his throat that peeks out of his collar.
I’ve turned over the memory of how he got that mark—of how I got the many that litter my body—so many times, but the guilt that accompanies it never lessens.
Carter catches me staring, and his dark eyes flash with recognition.
“Don’t go there now.”
I shake my head. “I’m not. Are you ready?”
He nods, and we follow the small lane back toward the center of the city.
It’s been ten years since I’ve been here, and though the walls have expanded a bit wider, the layout of the city is the same as it was when we last visited before the fall.
Lunameade is split into four quadrants: Northeast, Northwest, Southeast, and Southwest. Each quadrant is sectioned off into three fallback points so that if the Drained ever infiltrate the city walls, there are strongholds to
defend. It would be easy to get lost here, having not visited in ten years, but once you understand the quadrant structure, it’s easy to find a path to lead you to the center of town and the Blood Well. And for anyone too panicked or directionally challenged to remember, bright sunstone arrows are inlaid on the second story of most buildings in town, directing people toward the
nearest fallback gate.
“How’s the wife-to-be?” Carter asks.
I shrug a shoulder. “Pretty. Feisty. Not quite what I expected, but nothing I can’t handle.”
Carter elbows me. “I never had any doubt, but I figured I’d ask because when we meet up with Bryce, his questions are sure to be more vulgar.”
I rub a hand down my face. I’m not looking forward to that. I don’t want to think about my soon-to-be wife’s perfect tits, or her lacy undergarments, or the sound she made when I bit her thigh. She is just a part of this revenge mission, and if she’s fun to take to bed, that’s merely a bonus.
I didn’t wait ten years to get distracted by a tempting woman.
People rush in and out of the businesses ahead of us, carrying bags full of produce and candles and carafes of ale. They certainly don’t seem like they’re struggling for resources. Of course, it’s the wealthier people who live near the center of town since it’s safer farther from the city gates.
When we finally step into the center circle of the maze of streets, it’s easy to spot Bryce. In the afternoon light, his copper hair is like a beacon. He leans against a flower cart, talking to the woman who runs it.
He spots us and smiles at the girl before sauntering up to greet us.
It’s not a surprise that he’s more at ease in the hectic city. While my friends are both trained huntsmen—warriors at home in the perils of the forest—Bryce has always been more invigorated by crowds, while Carter prefers to watch the action from the periphery.
“Eight ways into this Divine-damned city. Why are we even bothering to check it out from the inside? There’s no way they’re all so well guarded,”
Bryce says.
We have no intention of laying siege to a city built to withstand it. If all goes well, we won’t need to.
“You tell me,” I say. “You’ve been following the patrols. What have you found?”
Bryce pauses at the window of a bakery, smiling at the shopgirl. He orders something and then turns and nods at the high stone tower to the east.
“They work in groups of three. Six-hour shifts, and they typically alternate between the same three posts for the same direction. So, if they cover the east side of the city, they might start their day at Northeast Hold, shift to East Hold after two hours, and then Southeast Hold two hours later. The problem is that every fifteen minutes, a soft bell chimes and they patrol the top of the wall. So, one man stays in the tower to watch the gate, and the other two walk in opposite directions down the wall until they meet their peer from the next tower. Then they turn around and walk back. Any attack would require a minimum of three guard casualties.”
The girl from the bakery returns to the window and hands Bryce a honey cake. He takes a bite and smiles at her appreciatively as he leads us around the perimeter of the center circle.
As we walk, Carter and Bryce bicker about sweets, but I tune them out and take in the city that’s changed so much in the ten years since I’ve visited.
Some of the last good memories of Holly are here during the Dark Star Festival, the month before she died.
It used to be so much easier to travel the Drained Wood. The forest was still dangerous then, but not so overrun. We used to take quarterly visits to Lunameade in much larger groups. Back then, the fort was a resting place for traveling tradesmen before the perils of the woods, and a place to regroup for anyone traveling from Lunameade after they survived the Drained. That seems like a distant fantasy now.
These days, we take only the strongest riders who are prepared to take the twenty-mile journey from Mountain Haven to Lunameade at an all-out gallop, on horses that are blessed by healers with magic from Divine Elvodeen, so that they’re in peak condition for the perilous journey.
What strikes me most about the city is that the nature is so perfectly curated. In Mountain Haven, everything is wild, natural, and overgrown.
Here, the flowers are neatly contained in planters and window boxes and magically still in bloom even though the season is turning. The trees are weak, removed from the outside and replanted in squares too small for them to really grow in.
“Any thoughts on how they manage to keep the lights on?” I ask, finally turning my attention back to Carter and Bryce’s bickering.
Bryce laughs. “About that. The streetlights and wall perimeter lighting are clearly an upgrade since the fort fell. It seems our sources were right. There are a lot of rolling blackouts, but we can’t figure out how they power all of
this or how they have such an elaborate network. It’s likely some blessing from Stellaria that allows them to channel light through a system of sunstones. Safe to say your city girl is going to have to adjust to the candlelight at the Haven.”
“The adjustment should be short-lived,” I grumble. “What about Rochelli?”
Bryce grins. “That part is more fun. Somehow, everyone seems to know someone who knows someone who met him. Not one has laid eyes on him.”
“Could be an alias,” I say.
Carter shrugs. “Could also be a group of people instead of just one man.
Regardless, the consensus is that he’s the leader of this resistance in the city.”
I frown. Hard to believe that even behind these tall city walls, they can still find a reason to revolt. “What’s their issue?”
Bryce runs his hands through his hair, tucking it behind his ears. He winks at a woman walking by. She smiles and watches him appreciatively as we pass.
“There have been as many breaches in the past six months as there were all of last year,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “They’re rattled at the lack of protection, but it’s more than that.”
Hearing that makes my blood run cold. It’s one thing for the Drained to be worse at the fort. We are a smaller and more isolated target. But if they’re also coming at the city this hard, that’s a very bad sign.
Bryce pauses and turns, pointing up at the building next to us as if admiring the architecture. “From what I can tell, they have the ‘unblessed’ pay blood tithes on a cycle. They have a book where they keep records of
who is due on a particular day.”
I frown. “Does that work?”
Carter throws an arm around my shoulders. “You tell us. Your new in- laws are the most powerful magical family in Lunameade. I’d say it must do something.”
I shake my head. The Carrenwells aren’t just powerful because of their magic. They’re powerful because they can see magic, and that has given them the advantage of always knowing what type of fight to be prepared for. It’s the reason that no one will challenge them outright. Those who have tried have died.
“The shift is that they seem to have adjusted the blood tithe requirement from once every thirty days to once every fifteen days,” Bryce says. “No idea
why they —”
The soft din of the square is cleaved by shouting. We turn toward the well to see what’s happening. Two city watch guards drag a man toward the Blood Well. The people in line watch with rapt interest, but the rest of the townsfolk milling about the square avert their eyes as if they’re used to this.
The man stumbles to his knees. He’s old—his body bent with age and hair white and sparse. He has to be pushing seventy.
“I don’t owe you blood. You’ve had it every month of my life since I was of age. And what do we have to show for it? A failing wall, dark nights, and an even darker future,” the man shouts.
“Sir, it’s your blood day—perhaps you’ve just forgotten,” a guard says, his voice calm and placating.
“I’m not senile! I’m just tired of the charade. The magic is failing.” The old man takes a swing at the guard.
The guard grabs his arm and twists it behind him. His partner grabs the old man’s other hand and slides his blade across the man’s palm. They drag him to the well, and the rest of the line watches in a mix of horror and resignation.
“Barbaric,” Carter mumbles as they force the old man’s hand over the well and dark blood drips down into the abyss. The guards mumble something as the blood pours down.
Finally, they let him go. He hobbles away and takes the piece of gauze offered by a young man beside the well.
The old man spits at the city guards’ feet. “Bleeding us all dry for power.
You’re no better than the Drained.”
Bryce whistles, and I scowl at him.
“What?” Bryce shrugs. “He’s got a point. I don’t claim to understand the magic of the wells, but it does seem excessive for such an old man. I thought there used to be an age cap.”
“There did. But I guess desperate times call for desperate measures,”
Carter says.
“And desperate measures can be exploited,” I say.
This is the place where I can drive a wedge between the Carrenwells and the magicless people of Lunameade, and my future wife holds the key to their weaknesses. All I have to do is get her to reveal them.
The ten-year anniversary of the attack on Mountain Haven is imminent.
For the first time, it feels like I’ll be able to ease this driving ache for
vengeance that has lived in my chest ever since the wall fell.
