2. Kiera

Chapter 2

Kiera

“You didn’t check the corners first.”

I swallowed hard, the blade moving with my throat. “And I told you to stop breaking into my room.”

Renwell’s breath warmed my ear. “I grew tired of waiting.”

“How is that possible when your cloak is still damp with rain?”

The knife disappeared, and I spun to face him, my heart beating erratically. He stood in the shadows like he was a part of them. His dark brown hair and closely trimmed beard hid most of his pale face. His black clothing, from cloak to gloves to boots, hid the rest. He had twice my twenty-three years, yet his strength was evident in every controlled movement as he sheathed his sunstone knife.

“You noticed my wet cloak, yet I still got my knife to your throat.” Renwell stepped closer, smelling of rain, leather, and smoke. “I could’ve been an assassin.”

I glared up at him, tired of his games. “What assassin could breach these walls without your knowledge?”

His lips twisted in a smirk. “None.”

None... if only my mother hadn’t been outside the palace when an assassin came for her.

I tossed my dagger onto my tiny bed, peeled off my sopping cloak, and draped it over the cracked wooden chair in front of my washstand. As I lit a fire in the hearth, Renwell shut the door and locked it.

My skin prickled with unease, but I ignored it.

“What did you find at Garyth’s?” he asked.

“You were right,” I said. “He was hiding something. I found a sheaf of papers in a secret hole in his desk.”

Renwell gestured impatiently. “And?”

“They were written in code. I couldn’t read them.” Renwell’s cheeks hollowed with anger, and I rushed on. “But one of them bore a symbol. The People’s Council symbol.”

Something like triumph flared in Renwell’s dark eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I cleared my throat and said louder, “Yes, but how can we be sure what it means if we can’t translate the papers?”

“Why else would a High Councilor hide coded papers with a traitorous symbol?” Renwell snapped.

I stepped backward. “But by all accounts, he seems like a good man?—”

“As did the People’s Councilors before they started a rebellion against your father. Everyone has something to hide, Kiera. You can’t do my job without accepting that basic truth.”

My cheeks burned with anger and humiliation. As if I needed reminding. I would never forget those days and how they changed our lives. The public executions at the foot of the Temple still crept into my nightmares from time to time.

“Were you seen?”

My gaze darted back to his. “Of course not.”

He studied me for an agonizing moment. Gods, please believe me. It was rare that I could lie to Renwell and get away with it, even after many, many lessons. The few times I thought I succeeded, I couldn’t be sure if that was just what he wanted me to think.

Like now.

“So be it,” he said quietly. “I’ll handle Garyth while you handle something else for me.”

I frowned. “Handle what?”

He hesitated, and that one flicker of indecision sent a thrill of foreboding through me. Renwell never second-guessed himself. He planned for everything and was never caught off guard.

“What happened?” I demanded.

His jaw clenched. “My Wolves caught a man prowling through the Den.”

My lips parted in shock.

Renwell was not only the High Enforcer, responsible for the safety and execution of justice for our kingdom of Rellmira, but also the captain of the night guards—nicknamed the Shadow-Wolves. I’d only caught glimpses of the infamous guards from afar. Their barracks—the Den—was in the Docks Quarter at the foot of the cliffs by the sea.

No one but Shadow-Wolves and Renwell himself entered that place of their own volition. I didn’t know what other business he conducted from there. But he promised I’d find out one day.

I sputtered. “How . . . how did he?—”

“Hewas wearing a Shadow-Wolf uniform and mask. He even carried a sunstone knife.” Renwell gripped the hilt of his own.

Sunstone was our most precious commodity, mined out of the cliffs north of Aquinon. It could be forged into unbreakable knives that never needed sharpening. Black and glittery, the stones were pieces of the night sky, if the legend was true.

But if this man had stolen a uniform and a knife, the only way he could’ve was from a Wolf. A dead Wolf. Which made him a thief and a killer.

No one else was allowed to carry a sunstone knife—a rule I flouted on occasion. But I would never use it to do something as foolish as to sneak into the Den.

“What was he doing there?” I asked. “Was he alone?”

“He was alone, and he refused to tell me.”

My eyebrows flew up. “ Refused? ”

“Under extreme duress.”

My stomach twisted. That was a part of his job I hated thinking about. But Renwell had always seemed content to let me train for espionage while he handled the dirtier bits of the business.

Unless—

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to find out what he was doing in my gods-damned Den and if he’s working with others. You’ll have to go undercover, which shouldn’t be too difficult for you, considering.”

I scowled. Considering I’d lied about who I was many times over the years that I used to sneak out to taverns or to meet lovers. And Renwell knew about each time. Those lies were one of the reasons he agreed to take me on as his apprentice.

“And you think this prisoner will simply spill his secrets to me, a stranger, when you couldn’t beat them out of him?” I asked.

Renwell’s lips twitched. “I think your approach may be more effective, yes. But it may take time.”

My eyes narrowed. “How much time?”

“Earn his trust. Help him escape the Den, and you could unlock all the information we desire.”

My breathing turned shallow. Escape with a violent criminal? Stay by his side for days? Weeks? Make him trust me? I had never attempted such a thing. Holy Four, I’d just completed my first real mission—and that with a few mistakes.

Renwell camecloser, his gaze searing into mine. I backed up another step, my boots hitting the bed post. “This is no coincidence, Kiera. If Garyth is in league with other traitors and this man managed to infiltrate the Den, something is happening. Perhaps something worse than the Pravaran rebellion. Worse than the assassination of your mother. Wecan’t?—”

“Stop,” I gasped. “Stop. Just... give me a moment.” I twisted away from him and stumbled to my only window. I pressed my forehead to the cool glass as rain pelted against it.

This window didn’t open, so I was safe from the sharp cliffs and stone parapets below. But for once, the height didn’t bother me as much as the thoughts swirling in my head.

There were so many ways this mission could go wrong. I had no idea who this man was or what he was like. He might see through me as easily as these glass panes.

But isn’t this what you’ve been training for? Since the night Mother was murdered, all you’ve wanted was to protect the rest of your family from further threats. To be the High Enforcer for your brother when he takes the throne. To finally have the power you didn’t have as a princess.

What will happen if you don’t do this? There’s no one else who will.

My breath fogged the glass, blurring the dark sky and the tireless sea. I had to do this. For Mother. For my family. For myself.

“Fine,” I rasped. “I’ll do it. But how? I need a cover story, a way in.” I turned to face Renwell, but he wasn’t looking at me.

He was staring at the dagger I’d thrown on my bed. I grimaced but made no move to retrieve it.

“I thought I told you to stop carrying that around,” he whispered.

I hated it when he spoke like that. Unlike my father who loved to rage and rant at the top of his voice, Renwell grew quieter the angrier he was.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered back. “I feel safer with it.”

“And what if someone saw it? Recognized it? Your father wanted it buried with your mother.”

I bit my lip. He knew why I kept it.

The dagger was one-of-a-kind, meant for royalty. The sunstone blade was straight and longer than my hand, the edges jagged. The hilt and guard were gold and studded with bits of sunstone. I had no idea where my mother had gotten it. I’d seen her with it a few times before an assassin used it to stab her in the heart.

And I’d kept it for myself ever since. A reminder and a promise.

Renwell drew in a deep breath and finally met my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll be leaving it with me.”

I opened my mouth to protest but then realized I couldn’t bring it with me where I was going. I nodded.

Renwell straightened, squaring his shoulders. “Good. Now, let’s plan your way into that cell.”

“And a way out if... if it goes poorly,” I added.

His dark gaze turned deadly. “If the prisoner refuses to believe you or threatens to harm you, I will retrieve you come sunrise and kill him where he stands.”

My heart thumped harder as heat rose up my neck. Renwell would damn the consequences for me. He would execute our only other lead to the potential threat he felt looming over my family. For me.

It was moments like this when I questioned if some hidden part of Renwell did actually care for me.

A memory flashed through my mind—of the night Renwell had first spoken to me. I was eighteen years old, and I’d stolen a few hours of freedom at a seedy tavern. After winning a few games of Death and Four, one of the defeated drunkards ambushed me in an alley.

I’d panicked and tried to shove him off, but he was twice my size. Renwell had swooped in from the shadows and slit the man’s throat before I could scream.

Wiping his blade on the dead man’s dirty cloak, Renwell had stared at my blood-drenched face, his eyes burning with fury. “Never let an enemy surprise you, princess.”

He was looking at me now as he had then, and I knew he would protect me as he always had. As no one else had.

“Then we’d better come up with a damn good story,” I said.

Renwell smiled.

We spent hours discussing the details of my mission—my cover story, our “escape,” and what to do afterward.

The key was getting the prisoner to owe me, so he would feel beholden to protect me—or at least keep me with him—once we escaped.

If he was the kind of man to care about that sort of thing. He’d already committed multiple crimes—that we knew about. And codes of honor never had much of a place with criminals.

If I failed and Renwell killed him, we would have to hope that the prisoner’s plans died with him.

But I wouldn’t fail. Whatever this prisoner hoped to accomplish by infiltrating the Den with a stolen uniform, I would learn the truth. My mother’s guards had believed no harm could come to her in the Temple, and she paid the price for their negligence.

I would not make the same mistake.

Renwell left to tell my father of our plan and to fetch me a guard’s uniform. We figured that me being the personal guard of the princesses would raise less questions for the skills and scars I possessed.

He stood outside the door while I changed, my mother’s dagger sheathed in his boot.

I stripped off my thin white shirt and the brown vest prickled with my favorite throwing knives. I kept on my tight black pants and black knee-high, lace-up boots. They worked well with the black button-up shirt and belted violet tunic Renwell had brought me. Rellmira’s insignia—a rising sun half-covered in darkness—was stitched across the front in gold and black thread. He hadn’t bothered with armor as I would’ve been stripped of it as a prisoner.

Then I sat down at my washstand and looked into the small, cracked mirror I’d nailed above it. My lips twisted as I studied myself. Every day I hoped I would see some bit of my mother looking back at me, but it was never the case.

My light brown eyes were nothing like her blue ones. The damp brown hair I shook out of its knot and re-tied would never shine like the sun as hers had.

But I was proud of the muscles that lined my body and of the little scars that adorned my hands. They were evidence of how hard I trained. And somewhere deep in the corner of my heart that never seemed to cease bleeding, I hoped she’d be proud of me, too.

After throwing my damp cloak around my shoulders, I glanced over my little room one more time. I doubted I would miss it much. But I would miss my knives, which I left on my bed, and the lock picks, keys, coins, and tokens I emptied from my pockets. Each one felt like a piece of armor I had to leave behind.

I would be vulnerable. And alone.

Gritting my teeth, I turned my back on them and opened the door. Renwell’s gaze swept over me, and he nodded. That slight gesture of approval still managed to send a beat of pride through my chest.

It truly dawned on me that, for the first time in two years, I would be beyond his reach. We had talked of a way to meet up after the prison escape, but gods only knew when or if that would happen.

The same thought seemed to flicker over his face as his eyebrows drew together and we stood in silence.

Renwell had been woven into the tapestry of my life since before I was born. He’d served my father from when Father was just a People’s Councilor to when he became the High Advisor for King Tristan. When King Tristan died leaving no heirs, my father was named King, and Renwell rapidly rose to the elite rank of High Enforcer.

He’d always been in my family’s shadow, keeping us safe.

Even when I’d considered him my enemy for several years after the Pravaran rebellion. Until he saved me that night in the alley.

And then he saved me again when he became my mentor. He gave me purpose. Something to fight for. I would have crumbled without his constant support these past few years.

“Renwell—” I started.

“Enough,” he said, his voice as sharp and unyielding as the knives he carried. “The king wishes to speak with you.”

My heart flinched at his dismissal, but I held my ground. “Very well. But I want a moment with Everett and Delysia first.” It’d been weeks since I’d spoken with either of them, and the gods only knew when—or if—I’d get another chance.

Renwell shook his head, his nose flared in disgust. “Gods damn your little weaknesses,” he growled. “Go on then. But don’t make him wait long. And do not tell your brother and sister what we’re doing. Only the king knows.”

I nodded, but he’d already stalked down the hall, torches dipping in his wake. I turned and headed in the opposite direction, deeper into the heart of the palace. My soft boots whispered against the polished marble floors. I kept my hood pulled low over my face, but even so, the halls were empty.

Less than a dozen people knew that Princess Emilia Torvaine of Rellmira had ceased to exist. After the Pravaran rebellion—so named for the province it sparked from—was decimated, my father had kept us from the public eye for fear of retribution. But five years later, my mother was assassinated on one of her rare trips to the Temple.

Heartbroken and furious that the assassin escaped, I’d decided that nothing was more important than protecting my family. Even if that meant giving up my crown, my position in line to the throne, and my name—as ordered by Father.

He’d hated the idea at first, but Renwell had convinced him it was where my talents truly thrived. Father insisted on keeping up the facade of my presence, effectively earning me the reputation of a recluse.

Which suited me fine... except I missed Everett and Delysia. I rarely spoke with them anymore. I wasn’t even sure if they would be awake at this hour or if they’d welcome me.

But I needed to try.

I passed by the double glass doors that led to my mother’s garden and stopped. When I closed my eyes, I could almost see her bright smile, her hand tugging mine out to the garden. Come look, sweetheart, I finally managed to grow a sunset lullaby lily! It’s almost as beautiful as you!

The memory faded as I stared at the dark, dead garden. Her bones lay somewhere beneath the untended soil. One of the few wishes Father had granted her—to be buried in the place she loved best.

I pressed my hand to the cold glass. “May the gods find and keep your soul, Mother. May you never wander in the Longest Night. May my soul find yours again... one day.”

My throat tightened in the silence, but this wasn’t the time to fall apart. I swallowed hard and kept walking.

I checked the library first, smiling when I found my older brother surrounded by stacks of books and scrolls, his own messily penned notes scattered like pale leaves. A few candles lit the desk where he worked.

The palace library was modest compared to the great library in the Temple. But Father forbade us from going to the Temple after Mother died. So now, Everett did his best to add to the shelves with his own knowledge and a few smuggled books.

I slipped between the dark, looming shelves until I stood right behind him—Everett as oblivious as ever when nose-deep in a book.

“Merry Mynastra’s Tide, brother,” I whispered.

Everett leapt out of his chair as if it’d stabbed him. “Holy Four!” He twisted to face me. “Oh, I—I didn’t hear you come in.”

I smiled. “Of course not. You have so many books and papers around you that it deadened the sound of my footsteps.”

He gave a weary chuckle and raked a hand through his dark hair, which already stood on end. His fancy gold jacket was tossed over a chair, and his shirt was unbuttoned with a few splotches of ink on it.

“Did you come here just to frighten me?” he asked, a sad smile on his face.

Gods, I wanted to tell him about tonight. What I had done and what I was about to do. I wanted to ease my burden just a little by letting him in. To share secrets and worries as we once did. I had few friends before giving up my crown and none now.

But obeying Renwell mattered more than a fleeting comfort.

“Of course not,” I said lightly. “I came here to ask you a serious question.”

He leaned back against the desk and folded his arms. “Go on.”

“Do we throw bones into the water because that was Mynastra’s favorite thing to eat or because she honed them into weapons or?—”

Everett laughed. “You know the story.”

“But you tell it so well! Remind me,” I pleaded, my hands clasped in front of me—just as I had when we were young, and I would beg him to read to me. Stories always seemed to come more alive in his voice.

“Fine, fine. But you get the short version.” He breathed deeply. “Centuries ago, in the Age of Gods, the goddess Mynastra lived in the sea and the storms. One day, far out in the Niviath Sea, a ship carrying one hundred souls sailed into a massive storm. For days, their ship was tossed about on waves taller than palaces and chased by lightning that cracked the air like a thousand whips. The sailors begged Mynastra to save them, to calm the storm, but Mynastra was angry. She loved her storms and none of the sailors had given her a single thought before death started to take them.

“One of the sailors offered her recompense by way of the bones from his meal, saying, ‘You have given sustenance and a way of life. Take the bones of what is yours and let us keep our souls.’ Pleased with this, Mynastra accepted the bones and fashioned a belt from them, similar to the one she wore. She gave it back to the sailor, saying, ‘Wear it always. When you cry out to me, I will see you as one of my own and look kindly on you.’ Then the storm ceased, and forevermore, we offer bones to the goddess for her mercy.”

I smiled and clapped softly, despite the lump in my throat. “Excellent story, Ev.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, but the light faded from his blue eyes. “What are you really doing here, Kiera?”

I winced.

My mother and siblings had always called me Kiera—the name my mother confessed she wanted to give me, but my father overruled her with the name of his cruel mother.

“I miss you,” I whispered.

The corners of his mouth turned down as they had since he was a boy whenever he was disappointed. “I miss you too. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

I threw up my hand. “Please don’t lecture me, Everett. Can’t we just talk like we used to?”

He reached out and caged my fingers in his hands. “But things aren’t the way they used to be. You chose to become the apprentice of a man with blood on his hands—blood he seems determined to smear on yours. Who failed to save Mother?—”

“He’d heard nothing of a possible assassination, and he did everything he could to find her,” I snapped, using the weak arguments Renwell had wielded like paper knives against my own accusations that night.

It was instinct that made me defend my mentor. And not a good one from the concerned look in Everett’s eyes.

I drew a deep breath. “Don’t you see that’s why I have to train so hard? Why I want to become High Enforcer when you become king? I will succeed where he failed. I will hunt every threat to extinction. No one will ever harm my family again.”

“Are we still your family, Kiera? You also chose to give us up in your quest for justice.”

I yanked my hand out of his, my heart burning. “Father forced me to renounce any legal ties. To make sure I had no claim to the throne. To make sure I could never be used as leverage.”

“To make sure your work will never bring shame to the legacy he’s building,” Everett finished softly. “Yes, I’m familiar with our father’s tireless defense of his reputation.”

“You and Delysia will always be my family,” I whispered, squeezing the words around the knot in my throat.

“If I ever become king?—”

“You will,” I snapped.

“ If I live to see that day, if Father deems it so, that will be one of the first things I do—proclaim you as my High Enforcer and my sister.” His dark brows scrunched as he studied me. “If that is still what you wish.”

The knot in my throat grew larger, blocking any words of gratitude I had. I simply nodded vigorously.

Everett’s face smoothed, but the worry lingered in his eyes, much the same as our mother’s had looked in the years before she died. A worry I had done little to ease until it was too late.

“Whatever you’re doing,” he whispered, “be careful. I can’t lose you too.”

I fought to keep my voice steady. “You won’t. I swear it.”

He straightened away from the desk, and for one hopeful moment, I thought he meant to hug me. Instead, he squeezed my shoulder. “Gods go with you then.”

I laid my hand over his. “And you.”

His hand slid out from under mine, and he sat in his chair, burying himself in work again. I was gone before he could watch me leave.