Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T here had been times during the night that the whirring and clunking of the pipes in my so-called sleeping quarters had sounded like screams. It had woken me time and again, leaving my eyes raw with tiredness today. Our first instruction on mental shields had been simple enough, but most of our practise was intended for personal time. It had been followed up by a morning learning about casting silencing shields – a magical barrier that could stop anyone from overhearing you speak to others, or to close yourself off to outside noise entirely. I had a feeling the second use was going to be more important to me in the loud cleansing chamber I had to call home, but the Reapers had warned us the magic was complex and needed ample practise to master.

We weren't going to be spoon fed our magical instructions here; the knowledge was imparted, then it was up to us to learn how to practice it well. There was a library in each Vault where further research could be done on the magics discussed, but there was no reading list or guidance as to what to look for. It was a test in itself, I suspected. A way to weed out the lazy from the ambitious, and I wasn't going to be caught on the back foot. The moment I had a chance, I'd visit the library in the Vault of Frost and collect as many books on mental shields as I could carry back to my quarters.

For now, we had a free hour to get some food from the refectory and there was an optional visit to something they called ‘Wandershire' where we could buy supplies. Despite the fact that I'd dried off my warmest outfit, the freezing air in the Galaseum had left my fingers numb, and I'd resented the Flamebringers who had been coaxing flames to life all around them. I'd studied each of their faces, hunting for the one whose death belonged to me, but the chamber had been so vast, there had been no possible way to search them all. I'd decided my focus should belong to the Reapers anyway. I didn't want to miss a crucial piece of information and cost myself some knowledge; it would only make me less capable of taking down the man I planned to kill. Every skill I gained now could be an advantage to me in that fight, especially if I learned it faster and better than he did.

Still, as I walked through the cold, cavernous passages of Never Keep, trailing at the back of a long line of Raincarvers, I couldn't help but steal glances at the faces of the Flamebringers who passed me by.

They openly sneered at my people, curses passing between them while I let my gaze flick from one face to the next. They were a ruthless people, their clothes made for war, but there was a touch of finery to them too. A show of gold swinging from their necks or glints of astrological watches on their wrists, and shining emblems representing their gangster ruler, The Matriarch, - a magpie with a skeleton hand gripped in its talons - gleaming proudly on cufflinks, broaches and pins. Their look was a mixture of raw brutality and highest nobility, though, from what I knew of them, their land of Pyros held nothing of the latter. It was ganglands to its core, their ranks earned through bloodshed between their own people and by the selection of The Matriarch herself.

I had spent some time researching their land in hopes of it giving me an edge when I found my Flamebringer – alright, a fuck load of time. The Matriarch – Mirelle Brimtheon – had risen to power at the young age of eighteen after she'd publicly beheaded the previous ruler who had been a tyrant in their land. She won the love of the people and during her reign so far, she had led countless victories in war between the nations, the bloody fortunes she secured revered across Pyros.

She had a habit of adopting the orphans born from the losses of war, raising them as warriors branded with her name, only to send them out into the very wars their forebearers had died in. It sounded like brainwashing to me, and from what the Raincarvers said of her, she was a conniving master of death, and one of the most dangerous Fae in the four lands.

I'd already grabbed some fruit from the refectory and had eaten it quickly before heading for the shore where the tradesfolk were said to be. I hoped the few silver kismets I had would be enough to buy me some material to make some gloves. I still had a small tin of rare glimlock lacquer I could coat them with which would make them permeable to magic, letting through my power without having to remove them. I'd acquired the stuff from a drunk, sweaty warrior home from war who had told me I could have it if I promised to kiss him. I'd made that promise and slipped it from his fingers, then swiftly made my exit. Technically my promise still held, and technically I had no intention of ever fulfilling it.

The stuff had been used in the forging of my dagger – after a lot of experimentation, I'd realised I could bond it to the metal and if my estimations were correct, it would be far less easily damaged by magical attacks. Magic should slide right through that permeable barrier on its surface and keep it safe from damage. It was yet to be tested, however, but now I was Awakened I would try it soon enough.

"Look at this sea urchin," a Flamebringer drawled at me, and I decided not to respond as he pointed me out to his friends. "She's got seashells on her clothes – did you stitch those there yourself, urchin?"

I glanced down at the pale blue dress I wore that had a row of delicate seashells around the waist and lacy sleeves. The thin pink trousers I'd put on underneath it didn't do much to keep out the cold, but the warmest items I had were currently soaking in a tub of suds in my quarters. I'd put on my sea-glass necklace too, the chunks of different colour pieces hanging down over my chest. And I look perfectly perfect, thank you assholes.

"I think they've crawled out of the sea and are licking the sea slime off her," another asshole joined in.

I flexed my fingers, willing the floor beneath their feet to turn to ice, but I used a little too much power and sent a blast of it sliding away under all the Flamebringers in the passage. People went flying, skidding over and hitting the flagstones on their backs. The one who'd called me a sea urchin cast flames to try and melt the ice at his feet, but instead set his friend's ass on fire while another lost control of his Order form and shifted into a Centaur, his hooves flying out in all directions as he tried to stay upright on the ice.

"Hey!" he barked at me, but as the Raincarvers turned to laugh, I slipped away between them, quickening my pace until I was running along with a smile lifting my lips.

I made it out to the Heliacal Courtyard where the large iron Night Gates were standing open with Reapers posted either side of them. I bowed as I went, muttering the words of respect, "Praise to the stars," and heading for the steep Escalade that led down to the beach.

I descended the sheer stairs as quickly as I could, joining a crowd by the crashing waves where they stood on the black sand of Obsidian Cove, all of them looking around in confusion.

Several Reapers stood by the shore, and four obvious groups divided on the beach as we banded together with our own. There were a few hundred Fae who had come to the shore for supplies, but I couldn't see any sign of tradesfolk or stalls.

The Reapers were gazing out to sea expectantly, and I weaved my way to the front of the Raincarvers to get a better look, the black sand shifting beneath my boots.

I checked the faces of each Fae, hoping Harlon might have come, but there was no sign of him, and I wondered what his first morning here had entailed. Was he enjoying his training? Had he made new friends already? Knowing him, he had. He was easy company to keep, and most Fae couldn't help but like him. With a small knot of jealousy in my chest, I accepted I was no longer going to be his regular companion. But maybe I could find a way to see him soon at least. That kiss between us had been playing on my mind, my thoughts ripped into two camps on the matter. It had felt so fucking good to breach that gap between us and to know he wanted me like that, but the other half of me retreated from the idea of putting our friendship on the line. I'd already lost him to the Reapers, losing him completely was unthinkable.

"What are we waiting for?" a Stonebreaker called from her group, her arms bare despite the wicked cold. My gaze tracked over the ink on her skin and the shaved side of her head, the other side a long mane of deep brown.

The earth wielders looked at such a contrast to the Raincarvers, our brighter clothes hinting to ocean life and the days we spent basking in the sunshine. I maybe took that look a bit further than most, but since Mama had taught me to create clothes, I'd never seen the point in making anything that looked just like everybody else's. It may have been one of the reasons Ransom and his friends had to mock me, but even when I'd gone through a phase of trying to fit in more, they'd simply found other reasons to taunt me. So I'd refused to cut out pieces of myself to please someone whose opinion I didn't value anyway.

In truth, if I had access to more materials, more metals, I would have taken it further still. I had visions of fish-scaled armour, paired with swords that held distinct shark fins curving up from the hilt. I'd stitch turquoise silk into my leathers and detail Typhon, the sea serpent of Cascada, upon them along with any other image I desired.

"Make way, Wandershire approaches," a Reaper called, and I frowned, following her line of sight across the ocean where the peaks of Helle Fort climbed up from the dark water. Not even the sun's light seemed to penetrate the ocean here, like she rejected her rays, brewing in her own turmoil.

A flash of movement caught my eye and I pivoted toward it, my breath stalling at the sight of the strange, hulking thing approaching across the sea. At first, it looked to be a ship, but its shape didn't fit that structure, and as it drew closer, I saw chimneys spewing smoke, a clock tower rising at its heart with golden hands, its roof sloping up to a tiled steeple. It stood between a crush of buildings, built of wood and stone, an entire town perched upon a vast platform.

To either side of it were rotating fins, metal and magic united to make the structure move through the water with the fluidity of an ocean creature without so much as a sail to guide it. Catapults ringed the structure, visible between a savage metal fence that circled the entire town with spikes topping it. They had enough blood staining them to confirm that something or someone had tried to scale them on multiple occasions.

The Fae on the beach retreated as the town closed in on the shore, and those twisting fins changed into something new, splitting apart and turning into eight, giant metal legs. The town rose upon them and crawled up the beach like a monstrous spider before coming to an abrupt halt and sinking down into the sand. A whirring filled the air and steam plumed out from a network of pipes that ran beneath the structure, my eyebrows arching as I took it all in.

Two golden gates stood high above us, the base of the town still ten feet in the air, but they were flung open in the next second and a beautiful stone stairway was crafted into existence by the Stonebreaker who stepped out.

It seemed this man was as much a fan of unique fashion as I was because his long fur coat was white with black splashes, hanging open to reveal bare skin, a spill of golden muscles and a cluster of amulets swinging from his throat. His pink trousers rode low on his hips and his army boots were strapped up with strings of wire and daisies. He wore a top hat which he took from his head in respect to the Reapers, springing down the steps to land heavily in the sand before them, taking a bow.

"Wonderful fucking day, ain't it?" He stood upright, his dark blue eyes wheeling across us all. "But fuck me, there were a lot of monsters out along Grimvale Passage today. Do you lads and lasses ever clean up the ocean or are you the ones placing those beasties out there?" he asked the Reapers who gave him cool looks.

"Get on with it, Mavus," the closest female Reaper said. "The Grand Maester has allotted you two hours, and you have already squandered fifteen minutes of your time."

"That's rich, ain't it?" He held a hand to his chest as if wounded. "I come all the way out here, a humble trader seeking to make a livin' and I have to skewer ten beasties to even make it to this stars-forsaken place. There ain't no one else in these dangerous waters who would bring you your wares, but here I am, risking me own neck to do it."

The Reapers said nothing, and he sighed heavily, turning to us. "Forgive me, I ain't even introduced myself yet. I'm Mavus Angelico, Mayor of Wandershire, and I have the rare and highest honour of being a neutral party in your four-way war. You've probably heard of me."

"My father said you made a blood-tie with him to heal his gout but his foot fell off last year!" a girl piped up angrily among the Skyforgers.

"Blood-ties?" Mavus gasped in offense, looking to the Reapers. "I don't make blood-ties, me. No, I'm just here to make an honest trade with these fine folk. Your father shouldn't be makin' blood-ties, doll. That's the work of vagabonds and lowly cut-throats, that is. Nothing like you'll find here in my lawful town." He threw her a stern look then shot a winning smile at the rest of us, talking louder when the girl tried to argue. "Now here's my sweet Wandershire." He moved to pet the metal leg of the town and I swear the whole structure shivered a little.

There was magic in that thing unlike anything I'd ever witnessed, and this man was somehow the key to it. How was he allowed to roam freely like this? I'd never heard of traders who were neutral parties in the war. What allowed him such privilege?

"She's sweet to those who are sweet to her but invoke her wrath and you shall find her an unwelcome place indeed," he warned, his eyes glinting with darkness and his smile a little too wide as he looked between us, something manic about him that set the back of my neck prickling. "Please, step aboard. I accept gold, karmas and kismets if you've got ‘em, item trades and blood- er bloody great tales of war too." He threw a sideways glance at the Reapers who gazed icily back at him in warning.

"You know the punishment of making blood-ties with any Fae of Never Keep," a male Reaper growled. "Your neutral rights will be revoked."

"Indeed, indeed, I weren't gonna say nothin' about blood-ties," he scoffed. "You Reapers always look for the bad in me, but I ain't never done anythin' but bring you fine wares from the four nations." He bowed to them, then gestured for us to move forward. "Climb aboard, dogs and dolls, my keepers shall greet you in the many trade stores and provide you with all your worldly needs for study and recreation alike." He winked, beckoning us closer and I moved with the crowd, intrigued as I climbed the steps and passed through the golden gates into Wandershire.

The narrow street ahead was paved in mottled bricks, winding off into the throng of tightly-packed buildings, all of them strangely tall and too thin. I eyed the many store fronts, passing by window displays of quills and inkwells, parchment and all the study supplies I could ever need. I still had enough of those items, so I passed them by, gazing up at the high chimney stacks that topped many of the slanted slate roofs, the smoke drifting away into the sky.

I turned left and right down the narrow alleys, and soon found myself alone, falling to a halt as I reached an armoury. The weapons in the window display were beautiful pieces, and my gaze lingered on a double-bladed sword with a red hilt that looked as though it were crafted from Dragon scales. Unlikely, considering there hadn't been a Dragon shifter seen in years. It was a mimicry etched into the metal probably, but without being able to touch it-

"Beautiful, ain't she?" Mavus's voice made me jump and I unsheathed my concealed dagger, turning sharply toward him. He ignored the blade, moving closer and sliding an arm around my shoulders as if we were old friends. "I got her off a battlefield in Avanis. Fuck me, the smell of the dead went on for miles, you shoulda been there. Real place of rot and decay if ever I saw one. I prefer the battlefields of a Flamebringers' victory. They scorch up the bodies, see? You can't smell nothing but cooked flesh, and that don't smell half as bad as you might think."

I jerked out from under his arm, my blade still raised. "So this weapon is stolen," I accused, glaring at the Stonebreaker who dared address me like a friend.

"Stolen?" he gasped, getting that wounded look about him again. "The dead don't own nothin', doll. Weapons ain't no use to them when they're rotting on a battlefield. My wares might be taken from dead fingers, but I ain't never stolen a thing in my life. Except a few hearts." He smiled brightly like we were having a casual conversation and maybe that was how he saw it. But what he'd said was pretty fucked up.

"If I died and my weapons ended up here for anyone to claim, I wouldn't be happy about it," I insisted, and I noticed his gaze lingering on my dagger for a moment.

"That's the thing about dead people, doll. They don't feel nothin' about anythin'," he said grimly. "Death's just a deep black sea, not a glitter of starlight in sight as some fools would like to believe. What say you on that?"

I deliberated my answer, unsure how much I wanted to say to this Stonebreaker who I was alone with down here. "I think the worthy find a place among the stars beyond The Veil."

"The worthy," he tasted those words in his mouth. "I've been around a fair time and I can't say I've met anyone fitting that description. Even the sweetest of grandmamas have a taste for blood on their little ol' lips. I've seen it. I've lived it."

"You don't look that old." I glanced him up and down, placing him maybe in his late twenties, early thirties at most.

"I'm ancient if you count your days by how many horrors you've witnessed," he said darkly, and the glimmer of past traumas hung heavily in his eyes before he blinked and smiled again. "Now, what's your name, doll? And what are you here for?"

"Why do you care?" I asked, taking another step away from him.

"Suspicious little creature, ain't ya? But alright, I'll tell you the truth as to why I followed you."

I stepped back again, my dagger raised a little higher and magic caressing the fingertips of my right hand. The cry of seagulls sitting on a nearby roof and the chatter of Fae in the next street over made the atmosphere calm enough for this situation not to brew a storm of concern in me, but I wouldn't be taking any chances. I'd been cornered before by wolves as savage as this asshole looked, and I'd lived to tell the tale.

"I have an eye for those in need of something a little more…unusual, shall we say? I make trades in all kinds of wares, lass. Anything you need, your heart's desire can be answered between the streets of Wandershire."

"Well your eye is wrong," I said. "I'm looking for material to make gloves. That's all."

"Ah, that's all, she says," he mused, his gaze falling to my dagger again. "That's a piece of something I'd like to see closer. I know special when I see it, doll. That's no ordinary dagger." He held out his hand and I scoffed.

"As if I'd hand you my weapon."

"You're a conscript at Never Keep. Do you think I'd be welcome back upon the shores if I made a habit outa gutting the neophytes?"

"I'm still not going to hand you my blade," I said simply.

"Hm…" He considered me. "Material, you say? Right this way then, doll." He gestured for me to walk ahead of him, but I did no such thing and he tittered a laugh before leading the way. I'd be turning my back on this guy right about never.

He guided me into a busier street, gesturing to a clothmaker with stunning material draped across the window display. Mavus led me inside and my lips parted at the sea of materials hanging from wooden racks and pouring out across circular tables.

I stowed my blade, rushing towards a swathe of darkest blue fabric that was both soft and durable. It was textured too which meant it would still keep a good grip on a blade when it was made into gloves. A notice beside it claimed it had been waterproofed by the magic of the clothmaker with a lifetime assurance. Then I saw the price and quickly snatched my hand away from it.

My heart sank as my gaze flitted from one notice to the next, the amount of karmas I'd need for these materials far more than I had. Even if I started offering weapon and clothes repair services out to my fellow Fae, it could take months to earn enough to be able to make purchases in this store. I felt Mavus's eyes on me and slowly did a circle of the place, pretending I was interested and nodding to the red-haired woman behind the counter.

Then I headed for the door, but Mavus swept into my way, his hand slamming against the wall so his arm extended across my path.

"I thought you were seeking material, doll?" he purred and something in his tone sent adrenaline sweeping into my veins.

"None of this is what I need," I said lightly.

"Horseshit," he said, holding up something in his hand and jostling it.

I cursed, realising it was my coin purse. He had somehow stolen it from my pocket.

"Give me that." I swiped for it, but he held it out of reach.

He casually poured the coins out into his palm, thumbing through them, his fingers clad in silver rings. "Ah, I see." He frowned. "This all you got, doll?"

I shrugged, but it was answer enough.

He slid my coins back into the purse and handed it over, my suspicion of him only growing as I pocketed it.

He caught my arm, pulling me closer and speaking in a low voice just for me. "I know the feel of light pockets. Which is why my trades extend beyond coins, doll. Let me take a look at that dagger of yours. A look, that's all. And I'll gift you any material you want from here."

"Any material?" I asked in surprise, the tantalising offer too tempting to deny.

"How much do you need?"

"A yard of the blue," I said quickly, pointing to it. "And another yard of fleece if you have it."

He boomed a laugh. "A woman who knows what she wants, a rarity indeed. And a deal you have, my dear." He offered me his hand and I slid mine into it, gasping when a clap of magic rang between our palms. I'd heard a bit about the magic of star promises, but I was only capable of making them now my magic was Awakened, our vow to each other bound by the power in our veins.

His smile widened and I didn't feel all that happy with this part of the deal as I slid my precious dagger free of its sheath and passed it over.

"Bless Cassiopeia," he murmured. "And the sweet song of Cygnus. This is a fine, fine thing. Where did you get it?"

I sensed he was digging for a truth he already suspected, his eyes glimmering with the sheen of my blade.

"I forged it," I said.

"There, see." His gaze snapped up, landing on me and looking at me in that same way he'd looked at the blade. As if pricing me up in his mind, figuring out my worth and how he could make use of it. "I knew you were special."

"Not the word of choice in the town I'm from, but I'll admit I prefer it." I held out my hand for the blade but he spun it around, testing it in his grip then flicking his nail against the tip to make it ring. Finally, he gave the blade back with a sigh.

"You give me that dagger and I'll give you any material you want in this store. Indefinitely," he said and the woman behind the counter hiccoughed as she overheard.

"I'll compensate you, Sally, don't you worry," he called to her.

"No deal," I said, sheathing it fast.

He frowned, running his thumb over his chin as he considered me. "You've got a story to that blade. A meaning behind it."

I said nothing, looking to the blue material across the store. "I kept my end of the bargain, am I about to learn you don't keep yours after all?"

"I made a star deal with you, doll. Don't you know what it means if either of us break it?" he asked, snapping his fingers at the woman and pointing to the material. "A yard of that and a yard of fleece," he directed her.

"No," I answered his question. "What happens?"

"Seven years' bad luck, is what," he said, smirking at me. "The stars will curse you for it, and in this forsaken land I don't need any more things going against me. I hedge my bets, see?" He gripped the cluster of amulets at his throat. "I pray to them all, every last one of those pretty little bastards in the sky. I may be earth born, but I'm loyal across all constellations, all elements too."

Shock rolled through me at the admission. "But you back earth in the war surely?"

"Like I said, doll, my loyalty lies up there." He kissed the amulets and pointed to the roof, meaning the sky I guessed. "I'm a neutral party."

"Why do the nations allow it?" I whispered, stepping closer to him and feeling as though this conversation would earn me the severest of punishments back at the Keep if it was ever heard.

"It's all about value." He looked me over, taking in my handmade clothes. "You can have anything in this world if you know who to offer your value to. But be careful, lass. If you're not prepared, then you'll find yourself licking the soles of the sovereigns of this world, begging for a mercy they won't ever grant." His eyes told of some terrible, wicked thing in his past that almost made me warm to him. I knew the taste of ruin and it seemed he knew it too.

"There we are," he announced brightly, stepping away from me, all light again instead of dark. He took a paper bag from the store-keeper's hand, passing it to me and I could hardly believe I'd just been given what I needed for free.

"This was…odd. But thanks, I guess," I said then headed for the door.

"What's your name, doll?" he called after me, but I didn't answer, slipping out onto the street and taking a few quick turns in case he was following again. I was appreciative of the strange deal, but I didn't like the way he looked at me. It left a shudder in my skin that wouldn't shift.

I opened the paper bag, gazing at the beautifully crafted material inside, my heart lifting at the sight, my mind already crafting the gloves I was going to make from it. Mavus Angelico might have been unsettling, but I wasn't going to complain about the gift he'd offered me.

I walked straight into a solid body and went stumbling back a step, my eyes lifting as the huge guy turned around, glancing down at me and making my lungs crush in my chest. I knew those eyes, black as nightshade and as empty as the open sky. I had seen him in every dream, every vengeful wandering of my mind. And now I was abruptly and irrefutably eye to eye with him, caught so off guard that I didn't even have my blade in hand.

" You ," I snarled, unsheathing the dagger that was intended for his heart and dropping my bag in favour of focusing on this fight.

My mother's killer. He was standing there, turning to me with a casualness that said I was about as important to his day as an errant fly buzzing around his head. And one swift bat of his hand was all it would take to send me on my way.

His leather jacket hung open, and the magpie emblem of The Matriarch was stitched into a diagonal battle strap across his chest, following the exact line that I had cut him with my blade. If possible, he had grown even bigger this past year, his height more intimidating than I remembered, and those eyes, so penetratingly dark that they seemed to eat into my soul. They flashed red for the briefest moment, some hint of what lay beneath his terrifying exterior, something perhaps even more monstrous than his outer skin. I sensed it had to do with his Order, but what it was, I couldn't guess.

I was so stunned to find him here that it took me a second longer to remember to strike at him. A cry left my lips as I swung my blade for his throat, intending to slash it right open and paint myself in his blood. But his hand came up, snatching my wrist in a bruising grip, his fingers as hot as hellfire against my skin. The burn bit deep, but I didn't release my blade, snatching it into my left hand instead and stabbing low, aiming to stick it in his gut.

But before it could land, a magical force hit me, the horrid, oppressive power driving into my skull and taking hold of my mind. My simple mental shields shattered from the impact of whatever wicked spell he had placed upon me, and I gasped as my hand came to a shuddering halt, the tip of the blade just grazing his stomach, his mind wielding my body with the unholy power of whatever Order he had claimed. His eyes were darkest red, and he was all I could see as he bent me to his will, that terrible power making my hands return to my sides, my fingers working to sheath the dagger.

There was a sound of growling at my back and I swear the sky turned red above him as he pushed that power deeper inside me until my knees were buckling to his command, his magical possession wracking through my limbs and forcing me beneath him.

"Name," he commanded in a rough tone.

That voice that had haunted me for so long, the one I had pictured twisting into a scream as I reaped my vengeance upon him, but instead, it had my own tongue curling to its order.

"Everest Arcadia," I rasped, some part of me fighting against his power still, but with every passing second, his claws curled deeper inside my mind.

I was forced to look up at this brute of a man while he stared down at me, his ruggedly handsome face impassive and cold. His hand shifted to beckon something and three, blood-red hounds coiled into existence beside him, the snarling, savage-looking creatures setting my heart thumping painfully hard.

My enemy's fingers were inked with the tail of a bird that disappeared out of sight up his right arm, and a gold signet ring adorned his little finger marked with the magpie of The Matriarch, the name Kaiser Brimtheon curving beneath it.

"Is that your name?" I managed to force out, despite his hold over my tongue, shock jarring through me. Brimtheon . He was one of The Matriarch's spawn, her orphan warriors.

He frowned, his mental power slamming harder against me and closing my lips. He forced my head to turn and look at the huge red dogs, their bared teeth aimed right at me and making my throat thicken.

My fingers twitched for my blade, but I couldn't make a move toward it, and no magic would come to my fingers either. I was his puppet, my mind linked to him by strings of his creation, forced to move to his will.

"Do you know what I am?" Kaiser asked, his tone a low drawl that held no taunt or much life at all.

I shook my head in answer and sensed Fae moving closer at his back, his friends watching on, but my eyes were fixed on Kaiser.

"Is that the Raincarver who scarred you, Kai?" one of them asked in surprise, and I recognised the voice as the Flamebringer who went by the name North, the one who had fought with Harlon all those months ago.

A twisted smile lifted my lips at his words. So my strike had left its mark, and Kaiser clearly wasn't privy to the Reapers' healing magic as I'd heard The Matriarch was. She apparently didn't care to seek aid for her soldiers.

Kaiser's eyes flashed wickedly and the hounds stopped growling, moving together as one and shifting into something else. Terror and pain wracked my bones as they changed into my mother then threw themselves at me, knocking me to the ground on my back. The world altered and suddenly I was pinned beneath my mother's weight, her screams pitching up to the sky as Basilisk venom rained down on us. My limbs were frozen by her power. I couldn't move. Fear spilled through my flesh and my own screams joined hers, the true nightmare of that day brought to life in an instant. And with a jolt of clarity I knew , in the depths of my bones, what Kaiser was. A creature of legend, a rarity among Fae, possessing an Order so terrible it was said few survived the cruelty of their wrath.

"Fury," I gasped as the vision of my mother turned into one of those snarling, dark red dogs instead, the beast pinning me down and its master leaning over it to glare at me.

Only Kaiser didn't really glare, it was emptier than that, this hollow monster seeing me suffer and drinking in the power I fed him through my dread. The well of my magic drained in my chest as terror shuddered its way through my body and I fought off the sensation of my mother's weight, the most awful moment of my life reborn.

Furies fed on fear, their magic recharged by the terrors of others, and his gifts could form monsters such as these hounds with nothing but a thought. He could sense every Fae's nightmares and bring them to life before their eyes, exposing them to their greatest terrors over and over, all the while taking possession of their bodies and minds, forcing them not to fight back. The strongest of his kind could bring true memories back to life in his victims' minds, just as he had done with the memory of mother's death.

He was a thing of horrors, and perhaps that was why it seemed no soul lived in his eyes.

"You seek to kill me," he stated. "But you cannot fight off the power of my possession. So how will you ever lay a hand on me, silka la vin?"

"I managed it once," I gritted out, unsure what those final words meant. It must have been spoken in the old tongue of Pyros. "I'll do so again, and I won't miss your heart this time."

"I didn't even have to possess you before. And in all the months that have passed, still you haven't trained well enough to lay a scratch on me."

"Why didn't you kill me that day?" I hissed, my tongue my own again as he focused his Fury possession on keeping me still on my back beneath one of his vicious hounds. The question had kept me awake more nights than I could count as I replayed my fight with him in my head. He could have driven a sword through my chest, he could have thrown me into The Crux.

"Your death wasn't worth the time it would have taken to clean my sword," he said hollowly, and something about the lack of taunt was worse than the way Ransom sneered at me. Like I was literally nothing to this man.

"Yon eskindo pishalé," I spat at him.

"A fucking asshole, am I?" he drawled and I gaped at him, shocked that he knew the Cascalian language. "I know all the tongues of my enemies. It makes it far easier to spy on them."

"We're technically not on Never Keep grounds," North chimed in keenly. "Kill her and toss her body in the ocean."

"Like I said," Kaiser replied as a cold chill crept over my skin. "She's not worth my time."

"I'll clean your sword for you," North offered, and a titter of laughter sounded from more Flamebringers behind him, but I was so firmly pinned to the street that I still couldn't see them.

"Do you still carry my mother's sword?" I demanded, but he didn't answer. "Of course you do." I sneered. "It's made far better than any fire blade you wield. I bet you've tried to disguise it as one of your own." I assessed the hilts of the two swords strapped either side of his hips, noticing the glint of the less-worn metal on the one on the left. "That one." I jerked my chin at it. "I'll retrieve it soon enough when you lay dead at my feet."

His Fury hound snapped at my face and I winced, but no bite came.

"Your words may pacify your longings for revenge, but they will not become actions," Kaiser said darkly. "No Fae in Never Keep could claim my death."

He turned his back on me, his hound stepping off of me to follow at his heels with the other two beasts, but his possession still kept me bound in place.

"Says the man who bears a scar of my making," I called after him.

He stilled, his back to me as if he was reconsidering walking away, and my heart juddered at the prospect of him returning. My vows were true enough, but the fact was, I was pinned to the street with no way of fighting him off if he decided to drive a sword into my chest.

Kaiser kept moving, the group of Flamebringers parting to let him lead the way forward, proving his position among them. North glanced back at me, his dark brown hair sticking up in all directions and his grin a malicious thing as he ran his finger across his throat in a promise of my death. But I didn't care for idle threats, I'd faced plenty of those from Ransom and I was still here breathing. No, what I cared for was the plan forming in my mind, the way I was taking stock of everything I had just learned about my mother's killer. Every free moment of my time would be spent reinforcing my mental shields and learning how to block out the power of his Fury gifts until I'd perfected it. And in the meantime, I had a name to etch into my dagger.

Kaiser Brimtheon.