I nodded slowly, lowering my voice. “The fox didn’t kill her. Esme reached out to me via Telluris. She’s at the tournament with Kalon, now, in the Blood Arena, waiting to speak to Trev Blayne. He might be connected to Nethissis’s death, somehow. The Darklings are almost certainly involved.”
She stopped, gawking at me. “What?”
“Once they got the gardeners’ trust, my sister and Kalon were able to pick up on some of the rumors that have been roaming through the city, especially among the palace staff. Apparently, last night wasn’t the first time that the Darklings got in. Which is why I’m particularly suspicious of the gold guards. I mean, who else could’ve given them access?”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Why didn’t you tell my father?”
“Because the master commander and the others of his high rank are all pushing the unfortunate accident narrative. They don’t want Nethissis’s death to be linked to any of their people. I can understand why, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it,” I said. “Kalon was the one to advise against telling anyone, especially until we get more evidence.”
Valaine sighed, sadness settling in her dark eyes. We resumed walking, but I could feel the tension coming off her. “I’m truly sorry that Nethissis somehow became collateral damage here. Why would the Darklings kill her, anyway?”
“We did mention this earlier in the morning, upon her discovery, and I still stand by that possibility. She must’ve seen or heard something she shouldn’t have. Someone must’ve noticed her in snake form, someone must’ve realized… well, I’m not too sure about the details, but I see no other reason for wanting her dead.”
“And you think Trev Blayne is involved?”
“We’re not sure. Mind you, Esme and Kalon are following up on rumors right now. I’m sure they’ll tell us everything once they have more information,” I replied. “Either way, I think the key objective here should be to figure out what it is that the Darklings are after. I’m not buying that anarchy crap. It’s mindless. Anarchists have never fared well in the long run, and I’m saying this after studying numerous civilizations across the universe. A lack of specific purpose in political attacks is always short-lived. The Darklings wouldn’t have survived for millions of years here without an agenda. We just need to find out what that is.”
Valaine nodded slowly, pointing ahead. We’d left the marketplace behind us, reaching a broad corner with teahouses and flower shops. Parting in the middle, they gave way to a narrow alley with hanging lamps overhead. It seemed empty, leading into a maze of streets and cul-de-sacs where mostly Rimians and Naloreans lived.
“The former Darkling sanctuary is down there and to the left,” she said. “It was discovered and raided about twenty years ago. It’s the most recent of their known locations.”
“Who raided it?” I asked.
“Kalon, with a regiment of gold guards,” she replied. “Most of the Darklings fled the scene, and no one among the neighbors was willing to cooperate. They were all terrified at the time. I was working my way through a tournament then. My father and Kalon have been more preoccupied with the Darklings. I didn’t really get involved… until last night, when it got personal.”
Three-level houses rose on both sides, with elegant stone steps and forged-iron gates, small garden patches and shuttered windows. It was a nice area, a good place to live—close to the marketplace and just an hour’s walk to the palace. I knew some of the palace servants had homes in these parts of the city.
“And you think the neighbors will be willing to talk about the Darklings now?” I asked. “What would have changed to make them want to cooperate after twenty years?”
She looked at me and smiled, making my heart beat faster than usual. “I’m hoping you might be able to get through to them. After all, you got my father to listen. That was no easy feat.”
“You give me too much credit.” I chuckled. “But I will definitely try. What of the sanctuary itself? What is it like?”
“You’ll see for yourself in a bit,” she said as we turned the corner.
Another street lay ahead, with dark blue facades and white window frames. The roofs were sloped and charcoal gray, and small red and white flowers hung from the sills. On the left, about fifty yards from our position, a light gray building stood out like a sore thumb, with four levels and black, shuttered windows. A wooden sign hung outside, above the main double-door entrance. I didn’t recognize the name scrawled in red paint.
“Is that it?” I asked, staring at the building as we got closer.
“Mm-hm. It used to be an orphanage—until Kalon raided it. The Darklings had taken over the basement, using the poor Rimian and Nalorean children as spies,” Valaine explained. “Kalon and Trev worked together on this, luring some of the children away and promising them safety. It worked, and they gave the Darklings away. By the time the golden guards got here, however, most of them were gone, and the ones who stayed chose not to go down without a fight. None survived.”
“And the children?”
“They were relocated to the northern side of the city. I think some of them moved away afterward.” Valaine sighed. “I suppose living under Darkling oppression must’ve traumatized them.”
Something moved to our left as we stopped to look at the building. A shadow vanished between the neighboring houses, and my pulse raced for a few long seconds. I didn’t like it. My skin tingled, reacting to a microscopic change in the atmosphere. A sense of danger settled deep within my bones, and I wondered where the golden guards were. I couldn’t see them, not even a head peeking from behind a corner.
“All right. Let’s see what the neighbors can tell us,” Valaine said. She walked up to the house on the right side of the former orphanage and knocked on the door.
About a minute later, an elderly Rimian woman came out, eyeing us suspiciously. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice coarse and heavy. Wrinkles drew deep lines down her tanned face. Her eyes were vivacious, though, as if untamed by the years that had passed, still bright and brown and filled with questions.
“Good day,” Valaine replied. “I’m Lady Crimson, and this is my colleague, Mr. Vaughn.”
“Tristan, please,” I said, offering a curt bow.
The old lady scowled at me. “Why are you masked? Are you hiding something?”
“No, no! I’m just sensitive to the sun,” I replied.
“Pfft. That’s new,” she grumbled. “You young Aeternae are all weird as hell! With your spiced bloods and deadly fights and now light sensitivity. I mean, I’ve never heard of that one before.”
Valaine smiled, giving me a brief sideways glance. “I was wondering if you could tell us more about the orphanage. Were you here when it was still operating?”
“I was. And I’ll tell you what I told your friend, Lord Visentis, when he came around and raided the place. I didn’t see anything,” the old Rimian replied.
“So you know me,” Valaine concluded.
“I know of you, Lady Crimson. And let me tell you, you’re not scarin’ me into tellin’ you anything!” she retorted, her slim brows furrowed and her chin up and defiant.
“You need not be afraid of us,” I said.
“Who said I’m afraid?!” She shot me a deadly stare. “I just told you I’m not easily scared!”
“Well, I can understand why you’d be afraid, especially given your condition. Old age must be truly a scary time,” I replied, matter-of-factly. Her heart was thudding, her pulse drumming in my ears. I knew she was afraid, despite her attitude, but she had to be coaxed into talking, and she clearly didn’t respond to niceties. Reverse psychology worked best for people like her.
“I’m not afraid!” the old Rimian growled. “I’m merely vigilant. And I didn’t see anything.”
Clearing my throat, I looked at Valaine. “We should go. We’re not going to get another word out of her.”
