by Jay Kristoff
“‘You can certainly take a beating, Little Lion. I’ll give you that.’
“I looked up at the voice and saw Greyhand at my doorway, watching with keen eyes.
“‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the Blood of Voss,’ he declared.
“It took me a few moments to realize my master was trying to jest. And though this was the first time I could ever recall him doing so, I was in no mood for merriment.
“‘How’s the throat?’ he asked.
“‘I’ll live,’ I murmured, jaw still aching.
“‘Three on one,’ he nodded, drumming his sword hilt. ‘Impressive, boy.’
“‘I am what my master made me.’
“‘God be praised. Else we might be filling two graves this day.’
“I blinked. Tilting my head, I realized I could hear faint weeping out in the Priory proper. A soft multitude in tears. ‘La Cour … she killed someone during her escape?’
“Greyhand nodded. ‘A sister of the Priory. Young Kaveh found her body when he was fetching the horses. Drained dry and thrown from the monastery’s heights.’
“Dread froze my belly.
“Chloe and Astrid had been out of the Priory last night …
“‘Which sister, Master?’
“‘Aoife.’ Greyhand made the sign of the wheel. ‘Poor lass.’
“I felt a guilty relief flooding through me, a soft sadness at Aoife’s death. She’d been a faithful daughter of God, and she’d always offered kindness to me. She’d been on holy ground when I saw her last night, but I supposed La Cour must have caught her as she left the Cathedral, then made her way to the stables to strike at me. I wondered if I’d said something to Aoife, comforted her in her grief, perhaps I could have saved her?
“But why had she been in the Cathedral in the first place? And weeping, no less?
“My eyes narrowed as I looked to Greyhand.
“Too many mysteries here by half.
“‘How did La Cour escape, Master?’
“Greyhand sighed. ‘Drained by the Foundry and charred by the silver, her hands were thin enough to slip her bonds. Talon is wracked with guilt over it, poor bastard. Aoife has been his aide for years. She was as close to a daughter as he will ever know. But he vows by the Almighty and all Seven Martyrs it will never happen again.’
“‘… Has it happened before?’
“‘Not that I recall, no.’
“I kept my face still, but inside, my belly was churning. I couldn’t be sure, but I’d have bet my bollocks Aaron de Coste had freed that bitch with the intent she’d do me over. He knew damn well I’d be down in the stables alone. He’d already proven himself a dog, using his bloodgifts on me, and he’d sworn to kill me in the Gauntlet. This was the perfect way to have his hands stay lily white and keep himself senior member of our company.
“But was Aaron dark enough to actually want me dead? Over wounded pride?
“And had his vendetta gotten an innocent sister murdered?
“Greyhand was my teacher. My protector. I wanted to trust this man. But he’d already lied to me once. And I was still in the shite for my disobedience. Sharing my suspicions with him would be less than worthless, especially without proof.
“My master mistook my silence for sadness. He patted my shoulder, awkward, like a father who never had any want to be one. ‘No sin is grief. But Sister Aoife is with the Martyrs now. And you did well, Little Lion. Fighting off two wretched and a highblood alone was no mean feat. And bare-handed, no less?’
“I shrugged. ‘Justice did his share.’
“He studied me carefully. ‘No strangeness, then? As in Skyefall?’
“I remembered little Claude’s blood boiling at my touch. Talon’s words: We should take him to Heaven’s Bridge right now. Cut his throat and give him to the waters.
“If Khalid had given the order, would Greyhand really have ended me?
“‘No, Master,’ I said.
“He grunted, as if he almost believed me. ‘Well, best heal up quick and be ready to ride, boy. Sunset waits for no saint.’
“Butterflies took wing in my belly. ‘We’re to Hunt again?’
“Greyhand nodded. ‘Talon finished testing the de Blanchet boy. As I suspected, his blood was frightening thick for a fledgling. Kith grow stronger as they age, but some measure of potency is always passed from maker to made. Talon has declared that the creature who turned little Claude was most definitely ancien.’
“‘An elder Voss?’ I whispered.
“‘Oui,’ Greyhand nodded. ‘Abbot Khalid has commanded we track her down. And with prey this dangerous, we do not Hunt alone. Talon himself rides with us.’
“I groaned inwardly at the thought of that surly prick plodding behind me through the provinces. ‘But Talon is seraph. Is he not too important to risk?’
“‘An ancien is lethal quarry. And the seraph is the eldest of the Blood Voss in San Michon. He will be schooling you and de Coste in defending yourselves against our prey.’
“I nodded, grudging. ‘When do we leave?’
“‘Amorrow. So you’d best drink some mortar and harden up, Little Lion. Butchering fledglings is one thing. But this prey will test your mettle, sure and true.’ He reached into his greatcoat, his face soft as it ever got. ‘Something to read while you recover.’
“Greyhand passed me a letter sealed with simple candle wax. All pain from my injury vanished as I realized who it was from. My master nodded and left me to it, and I broke the seal with shaking hands, scanning the beautiful flowing script.
“My dearest Brother,
“I pray God and Martyrs this letter finds you well. Know that I am quite furious with you, this being my fifth missive and you not having written once in the months you’ve been away. But in a moment of weakness, I found myself missing you again, and Mama said I should write to let you know. So here it is.
“I am very well, but still wishing you were here. Life in Lorson is dreadfully dull without your shameful behavior to divert attentions from my own misconduct. In a desperate attempt to prove to Papa I am the god-fearing daughter he tried to raise, I am serving in the chapel as a candlemaid these days. You will be pleased to learn Père Louis is just as insufferable as ever—the alderman’s daughter is to be married in spring, and he has insisted we practice every week until the blessed day. I am putting serious consideration into poisoning his sacramental wine. Do you have any advice on the herbs to use?
“In other news, I am being pursued in matters amorous by the mason’s boy, Philippe. His enthusiasm is laudable, but I have decided to never wed. Instead, I think I shall become an adventuress, wandering the lands in search of fame and fortune and a conquest more interesting than a tradesman’s son. Perhaps I shall drop in on your little monastery sometime and box you about your ears for not having the common decency to answer your beloved sister’s letters.
“Mama misses you too, most dearly. She says she hopes you are eating well and not getting up to foolishness. I asked if she had anything else to say, but she is crying now, so make of that what you will.
“I trust you are enjoying yourself, traipsing about the countryside chasing bugaboos. Please do me the distinct favor of not getting yourself killed. I’d never hear the end of it.
“And for Godsakes, write your bloody mother.
“Your loving sister,
“Celene
“‘My little hellion…’ I whispered.
“My eyes were burning as I crushed my baby sister’s letter to my chest. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been missing her and ma famille back in Lorson. I pictured Celene writing at the kitchen table, Mama working at the stove, and for a moment, their absence was so keen, I feared I’d cut myself on it. The news that my old flame was betrothed was also a rock in my belly. A part of me knew Ilsa must hate me after what I did to her, and anyway, silversaints could take no wives. Still, I felt a soft sadness that my old world seemed to be coming along just fine without me.
“‘Fairdawn, good Initiate,’ came a voice.
“I looked up from Celene’s letter and saw her framed in the doorway. The dim daysdeath light seemed a halo about her head, and her coal-black eyes were as unreadable as ever. But looking into her face, I felt the sorrow on my heart lift.
“‘My name is Sisternovice Astrid. Let’s get you fed and watered, shall we?’
“She bustled into the room with a tray of soup, sat by the bed. ‘Open wide!’
“‘I—’
“My protest was silenced as she shoved a loaded spoon into my gob. She waited ’til I chewed, then shoveled in more. She was acting out of character, and I wondered if she might be upset about Aoife’s death, until I saw Sister Esmeé trundle past outside, weeping loudly. Once the big woman was out of earshot, Astrid whispered, furious.
“‘I know I said recklessness is a more admirable quality than foolishness. But fighting three coldbloods armed only with a fucking shovel might be taking things a touch far?’
“‘Good to see you too, Majesty.’
“‘Oh, pack that schoolboy smile a lunch and send it walking,’ she scowled, stuffing another spoonful into my mouth. ‘It holds no weight with me, Gabriel de León.’
“‘You work in the Infirmary?’
“Astrid scoffed. ‘Bedpans and these hands? I think not.’
“‘Then why are you here?’
“‘The sister who assists Esmeé was close to Aoife. Béatrice is out of sorts after the … incident.’ Astrid shrugged. ‘I volunteered to take her duties today.’
“‘Let me guess. For a favor?’
“‘I certainly didn’t do it out of the generosity of my black and shriveled heart.’
“Something in Astrid’s voice told me she might be lying about that, but I didn’t press. ‘All well and good, but you haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?’
“The sisternovice pursed her lips, set the meal aside.
“‘I am displeased. You’ve broken your word to me, Initiate.’
“‘I would nev—’
“‘It’s not entirely your fault,’ she said, raising a hand against my protest. ‘But I hear you’ll be unable to train Chloe in her bladework next week, given you’ll be off murdering an ancien of the Blood Voss with a garden spade or suchlike.’
“‘I … fear it will be a touch more difficult than that.’
“‘As you like it.’ She smoothed back a lock of long, dark hair. ‘But I wished to ensure our arrangement is still in place. I will continue the search for secrets of your heritage in the Library while you are gone. And you will continue to train good Chloe upon your return.’
“I looked into her eyes. And though her stare was as unfathomable as ever, I couldn’t help but note the weight she’d placed on that final word. I realized Astrid was afeared for me. After Aoife’s murder, the attack in the stables, perhaps it had been brought home to her just how dangerous the waters I swam in truly were. And I wondered, then, if Astrid Rennier might be saying something without actually speaking it.
“‘I’ll return,’ I nodded. ‘I’m a man of my word, Majesty.’
“‘Not quite a man yet.’ She mustered a small smile. ‘Sixteen next week, is it not?’
“Astrid handed me a sheaf of rough paper, and unfolding it, I felt my heart skip three beats. It was a page from her sketchblock, but it might well have been a mirror. Her artistry was flawless as always, but instead of Justice or Chloe, this time Astrid had drawn me.
“Staring down at that boy’s face, I could see how much he’d changed since he arrived in San Michon. Long, dark hair. Sharp jaw. Grey eyes. Beside me, she’d drawn a lion, fierce and proud, eyes the same shape as my own. It was as if Astrid had seen beneath the lad I was, and conjured the lines of the man I’d become. Meeting her stare, I found myself smiling again. This girl was a sisternovice of the Silver Order. She owned nothing save the cloth on her back. And still, she’d found a way to give a gift to me.
“‘Happy saintsday, Initiate.’
“‘… Merci for your gift, Sisternovice.’
“She blinked. ‘You seem … unimpressed?’
“I looked at Celene’s letter on the sheet beside me. ‘It’s a wondrous gift, no doubt. I’m just wondering if I’m brave enough to beg another.’
“‘Have you heard the phrase “pushing one’s luck”?’
“‘I’ve had word from my baby sister. She’s been writing me for months, and I haven’t really known what to say. But her letter has put me in mind of my mama. I’m wondering if I shouldn’t write to her about my father. My true father, I mean.’ I shook my head. ‘But truth told, I’m not certain I want anyone else in San Michon reading her reply. Many folk in this monastery owe you favor. Do you think you might get word passed to her in secret?’
“Astrid’s dark eyes softened as she looked at Celene’s message.
“‘Of course. A letter unanswered is like a kiss ignored. And your mama misses you, no doubt.’ She produced her sketchblock from within her dove-white habit, tore off a page, and handed me a stick of charcoal. ‘Hide your letter under your pillow before you leave. I shall see your mama gets it while you’re traipsing across the countryside butchering leeches and making all the peasant girls swoon.’
“‘Merci, Majesty,’ I smiled. ‘I owe you. Truly.’
“‘And I’ll not forget it. Have a care, Initiate.’ She looked to the dim daylight beyond the stained glass. ‘Soon you’ll be indebted enough that you’ll be forced to help me escape this ghastly place. And by a kinder road than poor Aoife traveled.’
“‘Is it so bad?’ I asked gently. ‘To be here?’
“‘Bad?’ she chuckled, suddenly cruel and cold. ‘I have nothing. I own nothing. The blood of emperors flows in these veins, and yet, I’m a boat in a storm with no rudder, blown wheresoever the winds choose. There is no hell so cruel as powerlessness.’
“My heart sank a little at that. San Michon was my home now, but to Astrid, it was naught but a cage. I’d only known this strange, infuriating girl a few weeks, but still, I wondered what this place would be without her. I watched as she gathered the tray, stalking away across the cold stone. As she reached the door, she turned one final time.
“‘A weak and foolish girl would wish you fortune on your Hunt, Gabriel de León. A weak and foolish girl would pray God bring you blessings and guard you from all harm.’
“‘But you’re not a weak and foolish girl.’
“‘No. I’m a fucking queen.’
“And with that, she was gone.”
XIII
EVERY SHADE OF BLOODY
“I STARED AT the place where Astrid had stood for a long moment, noting how the room seemed smaller now she’d left it. And then, with a sigh, I took up the charcoal and began to write. A scrap of parchment was no place to say all I needed to, but I did the best I could. Enough time had passed since we said good-bye. Enough nights filled only with questions.
“Dearest Mama,
“Please forgive me for not writing sooner. I received all Celene’s letters, and pray God this one finds you in the best of health. We did not part on sweetest terms, but know that I am well, and thinking of you and the hellion. I miss you both very much.
“The sin of my birth has been explained by the brothers of San Michon, and I do my best to struggle with it each day. I understand why you did not reveal the truth to me sooner, but now I need know all you may tell me. What was my father’s name? How did you meet? Does this monster still live, and if so, where may he be found?
“My very life may depend upon this, Mama. If you have any regard for me, I pray you tell me all I need know. Please give all my love to Celene, save that which you would keep for yourself. You both have as much as I can give.
“Your loving son
“Gabriel
“P.S. Tell the hellion I shall write to her soon. For now, I have bugaboos to chase.
“I folded the letter tight and hid it beneath my pillow as Astrid bid.
I’d no idea how long Mama might take to reply, but I wasn’t left to wonder.
“By the morrow, I was given the nod from Sister Esmeé. And after a dawnmass shrouded in mourning song for poor Sister Aoife, I was down in the stables again, saddling up Justice. Kaspar and Kaveh were there to assist, both lads looking stricken at Aoife’s murder. I watched Kaveh in particular, pondering that strange meeting I’d interrupted between him and the dead sister. I wondered what it might have meant, but it wasn’t like I could ask him—even if the lad weren’t mute, he’d likely just lie.
“The stink of char and burned hair still hung in the air from my battle against the coldbloods. Master Greyhand and Aaron were there with me, as was the dour bastard set to accompany us. The ashwood switch that had wrought such a bloody toll on my knuckles those many months was nowhere to be seen—Seraph Talon was kitted like a brother of the Hunt. He wore a long greatcoat and a bandolier loaded with silverbombs, his breast adorned with a silver sevenstar. The idea that Abbot Khalid was sending a seraph along with us brought home just how dangerous our quarry was going to be.
“Talon’s face was grim, his cheeks pinched with sorrow. I could’ve been mistaken, but I fancied I even saw tears in his eyes. ‘Merci, boy. For avenging poor Aoife. Fine work.’
“I bowed. ‘For a frailblood.’
“‘Three coldbloods, unarmed and single-handed?’ Aaron looked at me sidelong. ‘You’ll have to tell me how you survived that one, Little Kitten.’
“I smiled at de Coste, wondering. ‘Cats have nine lives, Aaron. Lions too.’
“‘And you shall have need of all of them,’ Greyhand growled, hefting his saddle. ‘And the grace of Almighty God, to see us through this Hunt unscathed.’
“I nodded as de Coste fixed me with his cool blue stare. His voice was soft, but he spoke clear in the quiet. ‘I thank Almighty God you fought them off, de León.’
“‘I thank him too,’ I replied. ‘And you for your concern, brother.’
“Aaron went back to packing his gear. Greyhand grunted softly, content there seemed some measure of pax between us. But saddling up Justice, I knew there was nothing of the sort. I’d no real proof, yet I was damn near sure de Coste had set the La Cour woman free from the Foundry. Why else would he have been fucking about in the Armory?