She hurried out of the room, leaving her dirty work behind. Just another casualty. She bounded up the stairs two at a time. The hall above was empty. For all his scheming, Vitori truly wasn’t ready to lead an uprising. She only wished she’d come to kill him sooner. Her knife was clutched in one hand as she grabbed the elaborate, curved handle of his bedroom door and pushed it open.
The room beyond was mostly dark, save for a curtain pulled back from a balcony door made of thick glass. Shadows enveloped the room, dark purple drapes hanging from the tall ceiling. She slipped inside and closed the door, eyes scanning for any sign of life. The bed was small for a lord, but still clothed in an elaborately detailed blanket, but it was otherwise vacant. She drew her other knife and stepped further into the room. There wasn’t really anywhere to hide unless he’d crawled under the bed, but she suspected the drape over the balcony door was pulled back for a reason.
Just to be sure, she went to the bed and pulled up the skirt with her knife to look beneath it. Nothing. She looked around the room one last time before navigating her way around a padded reading chair toward the balcony door. The glass was translucent, so the image beyond was unclear, but it did look as though somebody stood outside.
Time to end it.
She threw open the door and stepped out into the light. Vitori Kesten stood leaning with his back against the metal railing of the balcony that faced the northern end of Jehubal. He watched her without expression.
This would be too easy. One leap forward and her knives would tear into his organs.
“They’ll kill Hatan if you kill me.”
“Clever defense,” Shanon said. “I doubt you had the intellect to secure such a ploy.”
“I had enough intellect to capture Hatan, didn’t I?” Vitori smirked, making it even harder for Shanon not to stab him right in the face. “And regardless, I don’t think you care to gamble with the regent’s life. That wouldn’t be very loyal of you.”
“You killed my brother,” she said, practically trembling with rage.
“So? My men have killed many people. Murder and execution are basic requirements of leadership in Jehubal. I’m sure you’re well aware of that.”
“You’re no leader.”
“No, but I’m paving the way for it. Someone needs to maintain the law. We can’t all be rebels here. There’d be no sense of security if we did that. A city thrives on stability.”
Shanon stomped up to him and pressed a knife against his gut. He didn’t even flinch. “I should kill you now. What would become of your plot, then?”
Vitori raised an eyebrow. “The council will still happen even if I’m dead. But remember, kill me, and Hatan dies.”
She held her other knife up to his neck, sharp enough to draw blood. He still didn’t flinch. That’s how confident he was in what he’d claimed. Sands. He probably wasn’t lying, and he was right. She wasn’t willing to risk Hatan’s life.
“Anything you do to me, I’ll see that he gets it twice over,” Vitori said. “The best option for you is to walk away from here. Find a new home. House Rikaydian has fallen. They’ve been lost for years.”
Shanon cursed and withdrew her knives.
“That’s a good girl.”
Shanon punched Vitori right in the nose. His head jerked back, and he gasped, holding a hand up to his face as blood spurted out onto his expensive shirt.
“Fool,” he growled. “I’ll break him for this. Guards!”
“I wager he’ll think it’s worth it,” Shanon said, shoving the pitiful lord to the side as she jumped over the balcony, sliding down the roof below and disappearing into the fog.
Vitori would pay. They all would. But first, she needed a way to secure Hatan’s safety.
Chapter two
Nightmare
The sound of Migo's monstrous voice filled him with more dread than the pain of his skin threatening to tear from his body. He screamed once again, terrified at the roar that boomed throughout the cave.
“Migo,” Nagesh said, his voice weak but urgent. “Only you have the power to control it.”
Control what? What had they done to him?
“Focus, Migo. Who are you? What are you fighting for?”
How could he focus? The pain that wracked Migo’s body was worse than anything he’d ever experienced. His skin was tearing in a million places. Every bone was snapping. Who was he? He was pain. His whole life was pain. Hated. Discarded. Scorned.
But no. There was hope. He was not worthless. Katsi had taught him that.
He was a king. He fought for his people. Not for revenge. Not for hatred. Hatan had taught him that.
But the pain. None of these thoughts could stop the pain. His breath came in heavy gasps.
Katsi. She would die if he was not there to save her. He brought his arms in, hugged his chest, and tried to control his breathing. Nagesh was right. Whatever was happening, he had to control it. Despite the sickening pain that threatened to knock him out, he opened his eyes, lifting his head off the ground, still clutching his arms against his body. Black liquid had poured from his mouth. The front of his uniform was blackened as well, as though burned from the touch of the potion. He clenched his jaw, rising to his feet on trembling legs, eyes focused on Nagesh.
“Explain,” Migo said through clenched teeth. “What did you do to me?”
“Remarkable,” Hadiv said, her eyes tracing across Migo’s body as though he were some grotesque specimen. “Ashjagar. You may have been right, Nagesh.”
Nagesh stood there, panting with widened eyes and open jaw.
“Nagesh,” Migo said again, his voice hoarse, raw from the screaming. His body still shook from the pain. How had his skin not torn away? Looking at his hands almost filled him with panic. His flesh roiled beneath the surface. “What is this?”
“You are Ashjagar,” Nagesh finally said with a gasp. “To many shamans, it means deliverance. It’s a complex blood-binding enchantment. You have been fused with the essence of a drakotah and some other plants and animals. It’s similar to the process of creating a waheshi, but your mind is still intact, and it is a spell that is significantly more… powerful. It hasn’t been attempted for hundreds of years, though many shamans of ages past attempted it on themselves and on other subjects. All of them died.”
“And yet, you tried it on me,” Migo said, sparing a glance back down at himself again. The front of his tunic had practically dissolved. His skin beneath was also roiling. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”
