Chapter 4

Senka

The biting wind nipped the skin on the bridge of my nose, which was the most visible part of me beneath the dark hooded cloak and mask that covered my entire body.

I teetered on the top of an aging building in the heart of Andune, overlooking a bustling market outside the palace gates.

Golden rays of fading sunshine illuminated the area, creating pockets of shadows just waiting for me to sink into. I kept up with my target from atop the buildings, like a cat stalking its prey.

A host of chimeras and their riders flew overhead, their thunderous feathered wings louder than roaring claps of thunder. People stopped and gaped at the beasts as they touched down, palace guards moving people out of their path. Their curling, taloned claws dug into the cobbled streets, sending rocks and dust flying into the air. There were thirty of them, each with a warrior clad in black armor straddling their back.

Chimeras were both feared and sacred throughout the Elysian Empire, with their lion bodies, scaled dragon talons, majestic horns protruding from their heads, and powerful bird-like wings. They came in a variety of hues, from deep browns and reds to vibrant white and deepest black.

Prince Bazaan's chimera was a stunning midnight black. Even her eyes were obsidian pools that seemed to absorb all light. In the fading daylight, Xyla"s fur and feathers glimmered like onyx jewels.

They were called the Tonne, this flying host of hand-picked warriors trained by Prince Baz himself. Trained to go to war on the backs of their beasts. They'd conquered half of the world from the skies and lived to reap the glory of it when they returned to Andune.

While the emperor ruled from the throne, Baz commanded armies. The Tonne was the sole reason the Elysian Empire had expanded as far as it had. They were the reason kings bowed to the emperor's rule and why we were untouchable.

But before all of that, the prince was once just a nameless boy I'd met on a cargo ship—just two runaways trying to find their own versions of freedom, though I doubted he'd remember it after fifteen years.

In some ways, he still looked like the young boy I had crossed paths with long ago, before darkness consumed my life. He was older now, his raven hair contrasting sharply against his sunset orange eyes. His handsome features stuck out among the sea of mundane faces around him. I knew this because I'd kept an eye on him for years out of sheer curiosity.

I knew better than to fall for his charms in the coming days. The charms that swayed so many of his subjects into adoration. I would have to keep my head clear. I had to remember who this man was and what destruction his ancestors caused for undesirables like me. His great-great-great grandfather had doomed us all.

I couldn"t help but wonder if the prince remembered me too. Probably not. I'd shorn my hair off with a dull blade and dressed as a boy back then. Aside from the inky color of my hair and the paleness of my eyes, I was a completely different person now. With the generous curves of womanhood, the death in my blood and the scars dusting my skin, I was little more than a ghost of who I once was.

My breath misted in front of me. The wind picked up, causing my cloak to flap around like bat wings. Winter was always frigid in Andune, and summer was too far off. My fingers were beginning to tingle with numbness, so with a glance over my shoulder to make sure I wasn"t being followed, I descended from the rooftop and entered the crowds.

I kept close to the perimeter of the market, slipping through the throngs of gawking people, shouldering past them while their eyes were on the Tonne. My senses were heightened, and my body was taut with anticipation. I had to stay sharp; any misstep could result in a blade in my back.

I followed him through the city streets, focusing on how his guards encircled him, their sharp eyes scanning for threats. Nobody was getting past those warriors. Not with their lives, anyway.

After having seen enough, I retreated into the darkness of a nearby alleyway, observing as they vanished behind the palace walls.

The palace itself was an extravagant display of wealth and dominion, with its towering golden spires that seemed to touch the sky and dominate the skies. Those spires could be seen from all corners of Andune, including the distant mountain peaks that blended into the Folklands.

Five golden statues surrounded it, each one so tall that they rivaled the palace itself, representing five different deities immortalized in solid gold. They stood guard, facing in all directions, an eternal shield for the Emperor. I had no names for who they were and no interest in finding out. I wondered idly, if Cross had ever seen their faces.

I scanned the crowd one more time before vanishing through the shadows and heading back to The Smoke. I'd pay a visit to the palace in a few hours.

An hour later, I tapped my fingers against the smooth surface of the bar top, and in no time at all, two steins of ice-cold beer appeared before me, a delicacy that was only available in the wintertime, or if there was a god-blood around who could wield ice.

I slipped a gold mark across the counter to the barkeep, who acknowledged me with a brief nod. The low murmur of voices enveloped me in a warm embrace. I took a slow sip from one of the mugs, still keeping my hood pulled up over my face to avoid anyone who might want to make unnecessary conversation tonight.

My body tensed as my shadows sensed another presence behind me. Wolfe sat down on the stool next to me, sighing as he got comfortable. As soon as the barkeep walked away, I silently slid my second drink towards him. He took it without saying a word and sipped at it slowly.

"Rough night?" I asked, my voice low.

Wolfe's golden brown eyes were rimmed in red, as if he hadn't slept in days. There was an air of mystery surrounding him—his rough exterior was a reflection of the hard life he"d lived even before he became what he was now.

I didn't know too much about his past or where he came from, but I did know that the day he arrived, he was covered in blood that didn't belong to him and was screaming at anyone who came near him.

He grunted in response, taking another sip from his mug. "The usual," he muttered before turning to me with a sharp look. "And you? What brings you back here so early?"

"I'm going to the palace tonight."

"Ah," he said, nodding. "Are you looking forward to discovering how your future betrothed takes his tea?"

I huffed a reluctant laugh. "Probably black, like his heart."

Wolfe raised a mocking brow. "You're one to talk, deathbringer." His fingers drummed against the bartop as he signaled for another round of whatever swill we were drinking. "I hope you understand the gravity of what you agreed to. I still think Cross is insane for even entertaining it."

The space between us grew tense and the atmosphere felt heavy with anticipation. I slowly lowered my drink. "Are you questioning me or Merikh?"

"Neither," he said, rubbing his large hand over his beard. "Just making sure you're ready. The prince is a cruel man. He's smarter than people give him credit for."

"And how would you know that?" Only a handful of people even knew the royal family on a personal level.

Wolfe's mouth flattened into a tight line. "It's complicated."

I snorted. "That's doubtful."

He pivoted my way. "Do you always have to have the last word?"

I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Touchy, touchy. Fine, have it your way. I'll be extra careful just for you."

I could tell from his expression that he was itching for a fight, but I wasn't in the mood. The barkeep slid our drinks in front of us again and we both took long sips.

"Look," I said, leaning in closer to him. "I know you're worried about me. But I can handle myself."

Wolfe's jaw clenched. "Don't flatter yourself, Senka. I'm not worried about you. I just don't particularly like the idea of swinging from the gallows when you inevitably expose us."

"Don"t forget who"s assignment this really is," I warned, my voice cooling. "You"re only coming to guard me because it"s what is expected of a proper lady."

He rolled his eyes and let them wander down my body. I resisted the urge to wrap myself further in my cloak, though there was nothing much to see beneath it with all of my clothing.

"Lady Senka of the Ashwater..." he said slowly, as if testing the taste of my name on his tongue. "I can't say I'd believe it."

My mouth tugged up on one side and I pretended to preen. "Lady Senka could bring even the most stubborn of brooding princes to their knees."

As I spoke, his hand rose until it brushed against my face. He ran the pad of his thumb across my cheekbone, wiping away some of the grime from my hours of sleuthing.

"They would just have to remember she"s there under all this dirt."

I crept slowlythrough the darkness of the dimly lit room, taking care to stay hidden from sight. The flickering light of the torches cast eerie shadows across Prince Bazaan and his small council, who had gathered around the grand stone table in solemn contemplation.

I was invisible and soundless, but it was taxing all my mental strength to keep the shadows in check, and I could feel my energy draining rapidly. I wouldn"t be able to sustain my blessing for much longer.

The prince raised a goblet of ruby-red wine to his lips, the liquid slowly swirling as he savored its rich flavor. The scroll laid beneath him lay forgotten, its contents meaningless in light of the news he had just received.

His strong jaw was set in angry determination, and the men gathered around him dared not speak a word. "You expect me to choose a wife from a parade of women, like some kind of fucking livestock auction?"

He stared at his first advisor with harsh, unyielding eyes. His cup echoed heavily off of the wooden table as he slammed it down, splattering the wine onto the parchment in front of him. The servants situated around the room bowed their heads as if they could feel the prince"s wrath emanating from him, poised to snap at any moment.

A man with brassy red hair and a ruddy-looking face leaned forward, hands spread out to his side as if to pacify the angry ruler. "Your highness, the empire needs an heir. You're the last of your bloodline after your father passes, and that puts you in a particularly vulnerable position. You have a responsibility to your people."

Baz raked a hand through his messy black hair. The easy smiles and friendly demeanor that had been so welcomed by the crowd of admirers were replaced with a deep-seated loathing for his position and cold stoicism.

"I"m aware of that fact." His voice was low and threatening. "And I"m not the last of my line, you bloody well know it. You"d do well to remember that my sister has five boys, and as far as any of us know, my brother Wulfric is still out there, unless you believe otherwise. Should something happen to me…" He paused and allowed his gaze to sweep menacingly around the room.

The name rang a bell somewhere in the back of my head, reminding me of the missing prince. There"d been another heir who"d gone missing shortly after his seventh birthday, never to be heard from again. Some said he was kidnapped, others say he was killed by assassins. Some even thought it might have been an inside job in order to place the younger brother, Bazaan, on the throne.

The other man hissed like a viper. "Never!"

Baz raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "You would deny the line of succession, Phelan? Such courage," he remarked with a devious smirk, clicking his tongue.

Phelan leaned forward, his features pulled into an expression that resembled that of a fierce bulldog. "Selma has been sniffing around your crown since before your father fell ill. That is the reason she has so many sons. She's waiting for you to make one little misstep."

Selma, the prince"s sister. She was born two years after Baz. But the heir could be anyone, as long as it's what the emperor chose. According to rumors, Selma fled Andune in a rage when the emperor announced his successor. She was pregnant with her third child already.

"Selma is gone because of your politics!" Baz shouted. He pointed a finger at Phelan, his personal advisor, pinning him with a glare that could bring any man to his knees. "You speak of my sister in that way again and you will hang; do you fucking hear me?"

Phelan sat there like a weasel, trembling in fear or anger, but it was hard to discern. He was an old man, a relic of the bygone age when the emperor was in his prime. His name still lingered in people's minds like a ghostly whisper, yet he would never find solace in Bazaan once he ascended to the throne.

The sickly emperor was weak, gluttonous, and selfish, but Baz was a soldier who led his armies into battle and defended this empire with his own sword instead of flowery words from his throne. Baz embodied everything his father lacked.

I hated him for it. I hated his entire bloodline and the carnage they were responsible for.

"Your highness," a frail man interjected from the prince"s left side. His hair was dark, but strands of silver shimmered in the moonlight through the window. His robes were deep green and regal—the silken fabric of a priest. He"d come from the citadel, where the old gods were still worshiped.

Baz scanned him with sharp eyes. "What is it, Jordah?"

Jordah lifted his chin high in the air, puffing out his chest as though he were a rooster. His smooth robes draped him like a king, but to me it just seemed like Jordah was trying too hard. My fingers twitched, a killer's curiosity rising inside me.

Perhaps Jordah would be included in Merikh's list of marks.

I could be so lucky...

"This pageant may be of use to you after all," he said with a deep bow. "Your father, may the gods bless his soul, had originally arranged for you to marry the Countess of Lyrell, however, she was wed in secret some weeks ago. The only remaining female princess is just four years old. Perhaps this pageant will help you select a suitable bride of your own choosing?" He spread his hands in a priestly way, and it took everything inside of me not to openly laugh, exposing myself to the room.

"My own choosing?" Baz snorted derisively, his eyes flashing with repressed anger. His gaze swept around the room as he shook his head ruefully. "From a pool of women that have already been chosen for me? Jordah, the illusion of choice is an insult to not only my intelligence but theirs, no matter how you try to sugarcoat it."

A discordant conversation echoed throughout the room, loud and contentious, but Baz remained still in his chair, unmoved by the chaos. His eyes were focused and sharp like a hawk"s as he watched his small council argue. He seemed so distant and aloof, as if this entire ordeal was tedious to him.

Was this all just a show? Being royalty meant he had known from birth that marriage was something required, not a choice freely made. It was unfathomable that an arranged marriage could cause this kind of anger.

"What sort of tests would these women face?" he asked after a few moments of argument around the room. The table fell silent, and every eye turned to him in shock.

Was he actually considering this?

Phelan stood from his chair, half bowing, even more regally, if such a thing were possible. His head held high, he and Jordah shared a silent look of understanding. I could see the victory blazing in their eyes.

"Let there be a contest," Phelan declared. "The empire needs not only an empress but a ruler strong enough to stand equal beside you. We need a woman with an unbendable spirit and unyielding dignity. Let this invitation extend to every god-blooded female between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five of noble birth."

I watched as the idea began to sink into the prince"s mind. He seemed to be turning it over, weighing his options.

I scoffed internally. Every god-blooded female. I'd never been called a god-blood in my life. Only an undesirable. I wondered if the invitation would extend to the lower city. Likely not.

"But ultimately, it would be my decision," he said with a hard, unnerving stare, looking directly at Phelan. "And the minimum age will be twenty-three. I have no interest in wooing a child barely out from behind her mother's skirts, and not just god-bloods. If not, you can forget the idea entirely."

Phelan bowed deeply. "Of course. There are plenty of suitable options out there. You"re bound to find a diamond in the rough."

My contempt for them only deepened, especially towards the prince. Women constantly fawned over him, eager to gain his favor and attention.

His attractiveness was undeniable, with his glossy black hair, skin that glowed in moonlight like fresh clay, piercing sunset-colored eyes, a strong, slightly larger nose and a sharp jawline that seemed chiseled from diamond.

Despite the jagged silver scars that marred his face, perhaps a reminder of a previous battle, he was still undeniably handsome.

He had a reputation for being cold-hearted, gruff, and focused on conquering rather than politics. If Prince Wulfric hadn"t disappeared, I was certain Baz would have left a long time ago on his own.

"Then let it be done," Prince Baz declared with finality. "Send out the invitations immediately. Let's be done with this fucking nonsense as quickly as possible. In case any of you have forgotten, there's a war brewing while you peacock around my palace, and I have no time for these ridiculous court games." He gestured for the men to take their leave, his voice reverberating throughout the chambers. "Go now, before I change my mind and leave you lot to scheme for your own successor."

Like a flurry of ants, the men scurried away from the table, fleeing without a backward glance. All except for Phelan and Jordah, who swaggered out with an air of arrogance that made my blood boil. They moved at their own pace, slow as molasses, knowing they had won this battle.

My body was no more than wisps of blackness, mixing with the darkness created by the flickering torches on the walls. I crept along the perimeter, unseen and unheard, watching the prince rub his palm over his face, sighing in exhaustion now that he was alone—or thought he was alone.

I could kill him right now. I could end his life with a single touch if I wanted to. I could feed him my shadows and watch as they dimmed that spark of life in his eyes.

It would be so easy to watch as his precious empire descended into complete anarchy.

And yet, I chose otherwise.

I told myself that I only wanted to see the outcome of this little competition for the sake of my own curiosity and maybe just a little bit of vanity. I wanted to win, if only to make them all look like fools.

I convinced myself of this as I climbed out of the open window, fading into the shadows of the cool night air, leaving the prince very much alive.