A Dance of Shadows Page 7

  “Kill me,” Ezra said. “I am not afraid.”

  Zusa’s eyes narrowed. She shifted her weight, tightening with her thighs so that she squeezed against the two stab wounds she’d given Ezra in her stomach. They weren’t deep enough to be fatal, but they’d certainly hurt like the Abyss. Ezra clenched her teeth, but Zusa squeezed tighter until she finally let out a scream.

  “You should be afraid of me,” Zusa said, pressing the dagger hard enough to draw a drop of blood. It ran down the edge of her dagger, then dripped from the hilt to the dark wrappings. “I can do more than hurt you.”

  She picked up Ezra’s wrists, then slammed them down to make her drop her weapons. With her unarmed, Zusa then took the dagger from her throat and began to cut, quick, calculated strikes. She knew where. She’d wrapped herself in a similar manner for over a decade. The wrappings about Ezra’s face fell to the roof, exposing her small nose, cream-colored skin, and short brown hair. Her hazel eyes stared up at Zusa with a mixture of horror and fury.

  “How dare you?” Ezra asked through clenched teeth.

  “They hide your beauty to mask their own shame,” said Zusa, “not so you might earn penance in Karak’s eyes.”

  “I will not listen to your blasphemy.”

  “You don’t need to.” Zusa put the tip of her dagger against Ezra’s left eye. “Tell me the name of the man who brought back our order, or I will scar your face so terribly at least you will have a reason to keep it hidden.”

  Ezra swallowed and looked away. Zusa could see her trying to be brave, to hold fast to her loyalty to Karak. She shook her head, annoyed. Leaning even closer, she let her cheek brush against Ezra’s, let her lips touch her ear.

  “Just a name,” she breathed. “All I ask is a name. Who created you, gave you your lessons, your rules, your training? Do not make me mar your beauty. You suffer enough. Trust me, I know it well, know your loathing, your anger, your frustration that the man you fucked suffered only whipping and a banishment to a new temple while you must spend every waking moment as an outcast, humbled and cowering in hopes of forgiveness by our dear, beloved Karak…”

  Ezra closed her eyes, struggled to maintain calm.

  “You would have me condemn my soul to fire.”

  “I would have you speak a name, you stupid girl. Now tell me, or bid good-bye to your eye.”

  Ezra breathed in deep, let it out. Zusa sensed the defeat in it, and sighed in relief herself. She had no real intention of scarring the poor woman forced into such a terrible punishment. That relief fled the moment she heard the name.

  “Daverik,” the woman said. “Come from Mordeina with the highest blessings of the priesthood.”

  Daverik…

  “You lie,” Zusa said. “You must lie!”

  Ezra tilted her head back as the knife pressed against her eye, and she let out a cry as the tip dipped in and out of the white of her eyeball. Blood pooled, and a red tear slid down her face.

  “Do not insult me,” she said. “Now do what you must.”

  Zusa thought to jam her dagger through the woman’s throat, but could not. Ezra was only confused, her mind twisted, her faith a noose about her slender neck. She stood and took a step back as her insides churned.

  “I want you to give Daverik a message,” she said.

  “Why would he care what you have to say?” Ezra asked, kneeling. She ran a wrapped hand through her brown hair, then touched where she’d been cut across the stomach.

  “He will care,” Zusa said. “Tell him… tell him Katherine must speak to him, and to find her along the eastern wall tomorrow night.”

  Zusa turned to leave, glanced back.

  “And tell him to come alone.”

  “We’ll find you,” Ezra said, struggling to a stand as the wounds in her stomach bled anew from the movement. “My sisters and I will kill you for this.”

  “For what, looking upon your eyes and hair?” Zusa smirked. “We faceless saw far more of each other than that.”

  With a running leap, she soared into the air, leaving Ezra far behind. If only she could leave her troubles behind as easily. Daverik’s face flashed before her eyes, so young, so handsome. Back before her name had been stripped away, and rebranded as Zusa. Before they’d been caught together. Before her love of him had doomed her to a life as one of the faceless.

  She’d thought him dead. Thought him gone. Thought him forever out of her life.

  She’d thought wrong.

  “Damn you, Daverik,” she whispered as she ran back to the Gemcroft mansion. “What cruel fate is this?”

  CHAPTER

  6

  Alyssa slept terribly, and gladly welcomed the daylight when it shone through the violet curtains that covered her window. At least it meant she could get up instead of trying to fall back asleep. She bathed, and servants brushed her hair and helped her into a modest green dress. Through it all she keenly felt Zusa’s absence. Normally she lingered like a protective angel, but this morning, when Alyssa needed her comfort most, she was gone.

  “Keep the meal small,” she told her servants. “And ensure John Gandrem is invited to our table.”

  “Yes, milady,” one said, hurrying off to give the order.

  Finally ready to face the day, she dismissed the servants and stared at herself in the looking glass. They’d done what they could, but the dark circles remained visible beneath her eyes, her face puffy. She’d spent much of the night in tears, all in confusion. She felt joy at having her mother back from the dead, and at times it nearly overwhelmed her. Other times she felt terror at the notion of losing control of everything she’d built, and if she closed her eyes tight, she could almost hear invisible gears turning, the machinations of a hundred different lords and ladies seeking to use this newfound change against her. Sometimes she wished Melody had remained dead, and then immediately followed this up with shame and regret for such horrible, selfish desires.

  Yes, she was very glad the night was done. The last thing she wanted to be was alone with her thoughts. She was sick of them. Exiting her room, she crossed the hall to where her mother stayed. A servant was just leaving, her head ducked low and her eyes to the floor.

  “Is Melody dressed?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said the servant, a pretty little thing with dark hair. “But I think perhaps she needs a moment alone…”

  Alyssa dismissed her, and despite her advice, knocked on the door. No answer. She turned the knob and gently pushed it in. Stepping inside, she found her mother sitting on the edge of the bed. The image shocked her breath away. Melody wore an emerald dress that had long remained in storage, Alyssa being too short to wear most of her mother’s clothing. Her long hair was tied back into a painfully familiar braid, one Alyssa used to tug when in a rambunctious mood. She looked like a ghost escaped from the past, and Alyssa could almost imagine her childhood self sitting beside her, book in hand. Except tears were in her mother’s eyes instead of the smile she’d known in the past.

  “Are you all right?” Alyssa asked, strangely timid in her own house. She remained in the doorway, her cheek pressing against its darkly polished wood.

  “I will be fine,” Melody said, dabbing at her eyes with a cloth. “I just… it’s a bit overwhelming to be here once more.”

  “I can only imagine,” Alyssa said.

  Melody smiled softly.

  “I have so many memories,” she said. “Despite what Maynard… did, there were good times, many good times. But let us not dwell on that. Mindy said you have prepared us breakfast, and I don’t want to keep John waiting.”

  Alyssa’s cheek twitched at that. John Gandrem was staying in their mansion as an honored guest, and was very much a father to her son. When Melody had introduced herself, John had seemed quite taken, and they’d been deep in conversation when Alyssa left them to retire for the night. Idly she wondered what a union between Felwood Castle and the Gemcroft estate might mean for her son. So much added wealth and land…

  She sh
ook her head, dashing the ridiculous fantasies away.

  “Indeed,” she said. “I would hate to be rude.”

  In their grand dining hall, John and Nathaniel sat beside each other in the center of the long oak table, looking humorously insignificant compared to the food stretched out before them. They had not begun eating yet, and Alyssa was not surprised. John was most particular in his manners, and that was partly why Alyssa had first sent her son to be fostered in his hall. John stood at their arrival, and Nathaniel quickly followed. She smiled at her son, looking so small and youthful beside the older lord, who was dressed in fine green robes and a thin silver crown across his forehead.

  “I fear your servants misunderstood,” John said, tilting his head in respect. “We are only four, yet they cook for forty.”

  “The rest will eat after we are done,” Alyssa said, taking a seat opposite her son. She glanced to an upper corner of the room. “And it is five, not four. Come down, Zusa.”

  Just a shadowy spider, Zusa climbed down from the tall rafter, hidden in shadows that clung to her most unnaturally. Raking a hand through her hair, she joined them without a word or smile. She looked exhausted, and Alyssa knew without asking that she’d been out all night. Looking to her plate, already simmering with meats, eggs, and a choice of sweet rolls, Alyssa felt her stomach twist.

  “Do you feel well, dear?” Melody asked.

  “I’m fine,” Alyssa said, forcing herself to nibble on some bacon so they would leave her be. From the corner of her eye, she caught Zusa’s troubled expression.

  “What is it?” she asked softly as John and Nathaniel started up a conversation about some jousting tournament to start soon on the outskirts of the city.

  “We must speak soon, in private,” her friend said. “One is of a personal matter, the other of Lord Victor and his foolish crusade.”

  “Crusade? What are you talking about?”

  “Not now. And we must speak with Terrance. If he has made even the slightest error, your life might be in danger.”

  Terrance? Alyssa was baffled. Terrance was a distant cousin of hers, a young man she’d appointed four years ago to be her master of coin and trade after the previous adviser had secretly worked against her, eventually making an attempt upon her life. So far as she knew, Terrance was a good man, careful. How could an error by him put her life at risk?

  “Zusa, I don’t like how vague this…”

  “Milady,” interrupted a servant at the door. She was young, and looked flustered. “A man seeks an audience with you, and says it is quite urgent.”

  “It can wait,” Alyssa said, more harshly than she meant. John glanced her way upon hearing the tone of her voice, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

  “Yes, of course, milady,” said the servant. “It’s… well, he has many soldiers with him, and is very insistent that he speak with you.”

  “Soldiers?” asked Melody, her eyes widening.

  “It’s nothing,” Alyssa said, pushing away her barely touched plate. “I will meet with him, though he’d better pray to the gods his matter truly is urgent. What is this whelp’s name?”

  “Lord Victor Kane,” the servant girl said, bowing quickly before hurrying away. Alyssa paused a moment upon hearing the name, and she looked to Zusa, whose eyes met hers. A warning went unspoken between them.

  “At my side,” Alyssa said softly as both stood.

  “Do you wish me to accompany you?” Melody asked as the two strode for the door.

  Alyssa shook her head. “Stay, eat. I’m sure it is nothing.”

  Alyssa felt their eyes upon her as she exited. Zusa matched her pace, and together they walked through the halls, paintings of dead ancestors on either side of them.

  “You had something to say about this Victor, correct?” Alyssa asked. “Now sounds like a good time to say it, and fast.”

  “He’s been given free rein by the king to pursue his agenda,” Zusa said as they turned a corner. “Rounding up every thief, merchant, and noble he can find who has broken the law. They are taken to the castle, judged, and more often than not executed on the spot. From what I’ve heard, he’s been very thorough.”

  Alyssa stopped, her mouth dropping open. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Only a day.”

  Alyssa ran a hand through her hair, trying to piece the puzzle together. The Kane family sounded vaguely familiar, but how or why wasn’t coming to her. “Who is this Victor?” she asked. “What do we know about him?”

  Zusa frowned. “A small lord, from an even smaller family. Inconsequential, really, until now. They own a meager castle, and control a modest but fertile stretch of land for growing wheat.”

  Wheat, that was it. Alyssa finally placed the Kane name. They’d had a few dealings before, nothing significant. A portion of the wheat market was controlled by their family. They weren’t the dominant player in the market, nor the most aggressive.

  “So now he enters Veldaren as if he’s some righteous savior, come to arrest the guilty?” Alyssa asked.

  “In short, yes.”

  Alyssa chewed her lip, then resumed her walk. Upon nearing the door, she found Lord Victor already waiting in the foyer. He towered above her, such a tall man. His pleasant appearance, carefully trimmed blond hair and a smoothly shaven face, matched what she’d expected. The chain mail he wore, and the sword he kept at his side, did not. Frustration bubbled over into anger in her chest. Letting the man in without first consulting her was stupid enough, but letting him keep his weapon? Inexcusable. At least he was alone, without guards. She felt no fear, for Zusa was with her. There was no chance he could lay a finger on her with the skilled woman at her side.

  “Greetings, Lady Gemcroft,” Victor said, seeing their arrival. His voice was strong, charming. If he was nervous at meeting her, he did not show it.

  “Welcome to my home, Lord Victor,” she responded, curtsying slightly. As she did, she took stock of the man. He was handsome, and his smile came easily to his face. Their eyes met, and that was when she saw the hardness hiding within coupled with a grim determination. She felt as if she stood before a charging bull, but she was no delicate flower, nor made of fragile glass.

  “It is a fine place,” Victor said, glancing about. “I would love to see the rest someday, but sadly do not have the time. I’ve come with both request and wisdom, if you would be so kind as to hear either.”

  Alyssa might have offered him a seat, or taken him deeper into the mansion, but something about his presence unnerved her, so she gestured for him to continue. He smiled at her, showing no hurry despite his claims. His chain mail rattled when he crossed his arms and tilted his head.

  “I do not know what you have heard, so let me first make clear why I’m here. I have come to save Veldaren from itself. Those responsible for destroying it are legion, but for now I focus on the guiltiest. My men scour the streets, always listening, always watching. Know that I do not do this at random, nor recklessly. I follow the law, and will uphold it beyond all else. I have declared war, but it will not be chaos and fires in the night.”

  Alyssa felt the unspoken jab and did not let it pass unchallenged.

  “You speak of the thief war,” she said.

  “I speak of the night you nearly burned Veldaren to the ground, all to mourn a son who was not actually dead.”

  A hard edge entered his voice, and she found herself taking a step back. Zusa was there immediately, sliding beside her with her hands on the hilts of her daggers. Alyssa started to defend herself, then caught the words in her throat. She would not defend that disastrous effort, for she herself was ashamed of it. It had been a foolish thing, her emotions overriding her judgment. Only Zusa had had the courage to say it to her face.

  “And what makes you think your efforts will be so different?” she asked. Her blood felt like ice in her veins. “What delusion blinds your eyes to the strength of those who oppose you?”

  Victor’s smile returned. “No delusion, just stubb
ornness. Yesterday was the first, and the next week or so will probably be the most productive, but I have months if I must. All seventeen men we found guilty yesterday died by the ax. Those we capture today will give every name, list every crime they’ve ever seen, to spare themselves that same fate.”

  “They’ll fight back,” Zusa said. “They won’t let you round up their fellow thieves without bloodshed.”

  “We do not march needlessly through dark corners hoping for a glimpse of a colored cloak. We learn names. We learn homes. My men move together, close, careful, and always with purpose. You do not remove weeds from a garden in a hurry, turning and grabbing every which way. You must move slowly, methodically, so you miss not a one.”

  Alyssa shook her head. “These are dangerous men, not weeds.”

  “Forgive me if I find them with more similarities than not.”

  He smiled at her, trying to win her over. Despite his handsomeness, she refused to let it sway her. She’d let one lover blind her to his underhanded dealings before; she wouldn’t dare let it happen again.

  “You said you had a request, and some wisdom,” Alyssa said. “Have you given me either yet?”

  Victor laughed. “Yes, yes, of course. For the request, it is simple. Your hatred of the thieves is almost legendary, and I would ask that you be my ally in this. Whatever you know of the thieves, turn it over to me. Any names, any crimes, whatever it is, we can use it. And if you have any house guards that you trust, that might help me secure the streets…”

  “I will think on it,” she said. “Your wisdom?”

  Another smile. “That you say yes to my request.”

  Despite herself she snickered. “Perhaps. But we have entered into an agreement with the guilds, and now pay for their protection. What you ask jeopardizes everything. For once we have a semblance of peace. I do not want to ruin that now on some foolhardy outsider who has come to Veldaren with more stones than sense.”

  “Your peace is a mirage,” Victor said, turning to the door. “It will fade no matter what you do. It is a house built on sand, a painting drawn in the dust. Oh, and remember this, Alyssa, for it is very, very important. All that I do, I do with the king’s full authority.”