by J. Levi
I slip past them into the main foyer, glimpsing the house banner in fuscia with white hollyhock engrossed by vines. A grand double-sided spiral staircase overhangs a wide hallway that leads to more rooms. I scale the stairs, careful to keep my footfalls soft and silent so they don’t echo on the flagstone steps. The landing is decorated with wood-carved curios, and odd trinkets display through glass doors. I casually browse the contents as if I’m shopping at the mid-day market rush.
I hear the purring before I see the feline beast. Perched on a lofted platform high above the curios, I watch a blanch white tail casually flip through the air. I follow the tail, leading to a large mound of white and black fur—pearlescent eyes glimmer in the low light, a glare of a predator.
“Nice kitty,” I whisper gently, and a deep grumble vibrates from the beast. I fumble in my pocket to retrieve the fish. An ear on the beast twitches as it sniffs the air perfunctory. I toss the first salted fish at the beast. It merely pelts its forehead and falls to the floor with a loud slap.
Shit.
The frost leopard stands from its position, casually stretching as if this encounter isn’t the most stressful thing I’ve endured in weeks. It bounces from the platform, landing just a few paces away. I try hard to keep myself from shrieking at the movement. The feline graciously strolls near. Its low grumble is so heavy I can feel it in my bones. I fumble with another salted fish and hold it out for the animal as steady as I can muster. The frost leopard sniffs the fish a few times before batting it out of my hand.
Reaching for my dagger and ready to call my magic if needed, the leopard steps close enough to brush against my hip. I realize the deep grumble coming from the feline is actually purring. I suddenly relax at the realization and gently place a hand behind the leopard’s ears to give a scratch. The purring intensifies as it brushes against me again, knocking me over onto the floor. The leopard climbs on top of me and lays down. The heavyweight crushes the air from my lungs. I’m careful not to move.
“Don’t think you could maybe not lay on me,” I whisper gently. The leopard merely stares at me with indifference.
“Figures. Hey—look. I’m not really the kind of guy who just cuddles with the first big cat he meets,” I start. The leopard yawns, baring huge fangs in my face. Its breath is unsavory, enough to make my eyes swell with wetness like when cutting onions.
I’m not sure how long we lie there for, but eventually, the frost leopard grows bored of me and climbs back to its platform. Its tail slowly sashaying in the night. I cautiously travel down the hallway, careful to not make any sudden movements, so I don’t invoke the leopard’s bad side.
I spend the next hour shuffling through curios and cabinets with no luck. The estate houses a gallery of antiquities but nothing macabre amongst the posh baubles. I’m about to retrace my steps back outside when I feel the faint pulse of magic from behind. My reaction is too slow, but enough that I shift to avoid the full blunt impact of someone’s heel to the back of my head. I dive forward, rolling on my shoulder as I pull my dagger from its notched sheath on my belt. I crouch, ready to pounce as I face my attacker. They’re heavily concealed in leathers and half cloak hood. They waste no time between violent kicks. I manage to dodge and block a few of them, but then I meet the swift left hook of their fist, which forces me into a brief stupor long enough so they can kick me square in the chest. I crash into a stone pedestal, knocking over the surely priceless vase onto the floor with a loud crash.
The assailant is distracted enough by the loud shouts echoing through the estate now that our presence is known. I shove into them, catching them off guard. They crash into curio, the glass shattering and wood splintering. I kick the back of their knee, forcing them to the ground, and then I flee the room. The hallway is still empty as I run through it. The frost leopard still perched on its platform, completely impervious to the alarm of the household.
I descend the staircase, several steps a time. My cloak whips around violently as I rush through the side entrance where the donkey-sized dogs bark incessantly. They startle and growl as I emerge from the estate. I toss the final jerky in my vest pocket between them. It’s enough to distract them as they fight over the sliver of meat. I disappear into the rows of grapevines when the estate erupts in torchlight and cursory shouts of the alerted house staff.
Climbing back over the estate walls is more challenging since the overgrowth is more tamed. I manage to scale the cobble wall with enough grip on the rocky surface. Duck perks up the moment he sees me shift over the top.
“Did you find anything,” he asks softly. Then, “I heard some commotion.”
“There was a complication,” I mutter as I give up shifting through thick vines to climb down and just jump the last few feet. I pull Duck by the sleeve while snatching the bags with our supplies.
“What kind of complication?” Duck asks.
Before I can answer, a whirling whistle of air and steel cut through the darkness as a dagger blade passes my face, missing with only the width of a hair and then pelting into a poplar tree. I turn to find my assailant, crouched at the top of the wall in a feline stance.
“That kind,” I growl as I shove Duck behind me. The hooded figure leaps from the wall with a sideways turn and a somersault, landing perfectly on two feet.
Show off.
“Run, Duck. Now,” I shove him and follow close behind. When I hear the next whirl of steel cut through the air, I turn in time to catch the blade with my leather satchel.
“What did you do to them?” Duck asks.
“What makes you think I did anything?” I call back incredulously.
The figure manages to gain speed, and then a pulse of magic radiates from them. Suddenly everything goes dark as if a blindfold were drawn over my eyes. I stumble over an uprooted tree and crash to the mossy earth. I groan while shifting through the dirt until someone digs a heel into the small of my back, inspiring guttural cries from my mouth.
I call on my magic, allowing it to course through my veins as it sings, begging to be released, desperate to consume and destroy with flames of twilight. I hold it at bay but ready to unleash it if needed.
I shift enough weight to force my attacker off-kilter. I use the momentum to sweep a leg against their foot, forcing them to the ground with a harsh slam on the back. I immediately climb atop the figure, pinning their forearms with my hands and bracing my full weight into their thighs to keep them from moving. Their face is covered in a cowl, but there’s a brief moment where I recognize the dark brown eyes barely illuminated by the beginning traces of dawn. Before I can say something, the figure headbutts me, the force hard enough to crack cartilage. I instinctively release my hold to grasp my bloody nose when the figure sucker punches me in the gut and shifts their body in a way that forces me onto my back as they pin me to the earth.
“Eridh’s hell, Luna,” I groan. Leluna goes still, almost statuesque. Very slowly, she leans closer, dark brown eyes squinting as she studies my face. Her eyes widen suddenly, and she leaps off me, putting a few paces of safe distance between us. Leluna removes her hood and cowl, revealing my suspicions true. Leluna Dahahl, in the flesh. I should have realized sooner, given how much she likes to kick.
“N—Nova?” Leluna asks.
“Over here,” a raspy voice calls from nearby. The sound of dogs barking draws closer.
“Let’s go, Duck,” I mutter while climbing from the ground and pulling the startled elmmen after me and break into a light sprint. I don’t bother looking over my shoulder to know whether or not Leluna is following.
When we’re far enough away from the estate grounds, we slow to a walk, pacing ourselves as we move through the rocky foothills. It’s an hour trek until we make our way back to our erected campsite on the poplar forest edge, the sun rising over the horizon but still tucked behind the brim of poplars.
Leluna and I haven’t said a word. The silence between us is heavy and loaded. Duck manages to fill the awkwardn
ess with a few soft medlies, slightly uplifting for the ambiance. I approach my horse, a brown mare with a golden mane. I offer a half-eaten apple for her, and she graciously takes it from me. Duck does the same for his mule. I stole them on our way out of Odenfels from a rundown tavern inn. Out here in the backcountry, security tends to be laxer.
When we settle on the makeshift seating fastened from fallen logs, Duck leans close and whispers, “The scary lady followed us.”
I scoff and say, “Trust me, she’s not a lady.”
“I heard that,” Leluna says from across the campsite as she leans against a tree, her arms and legs crossed. She study’s me for a long while. I struggle not to squirm under her gaze, but I manage to remain glib.
“What happened to you?” Leluna asks finally.
I sigh, not ready to recount the past few months.
“Did something happen to you, Nova, sir?” Duck asks with concern.
“No,” I grumble.
“Something happened to you,” Leluna quips. “Last we saw each other, you were less…pointy. And less painted.”
I glance at the exposed tattoo of roses and thorned vines. The white petals are frailed as dark violet, and deep blue weeps from the buds. The vines still writhe and twist, scraping against my skin as if the magical image were real. I trace a finger over the runic binding symbols on my wrist. The symbols are cracked and frayed, as if the binding is close to being broken. I noticed the new state of the magical binding when I awoke in my villa weeks before.
“What does she mean?” Duck asks, confused. He doesn’t know that I used to portray myself as human.
“Nothing,” I say, and then, “What are you doing here, Leluna?”
“Looking for you.”
I raise a brow in question. “Oh?”
“You’re making a ruckus with the nobles and lordships of Fionheart Vale.”
“Let me guess—they banded together and hired the Guild of Assassin’s to take out the petty thief? I’ve taken nothing valuable enough for an assassination.”
“Not what I meant. It’s how I found you. Reports of a thief in Fionheart Vale, breaking into the estates at—”
“Twilight,” I finish for her. “I’m looking for something.”
“I know. Reports say the only things missing are meaningless stones and garnets? Am I missing something, or has the Twilight Thief decided to take on a rock collection?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it. Where the hell have you been? The last you were seen or heard from was in Rhenstadt when you left Ricon with the nurses. I truly hope you haven’t been traipsing across the vale, collecting pretty rocks like a fucking twat.”
“You have no right speaking to Nova, sir, like that!” Duck snaps.
“Let it go,” I warn.
“Who’s the kid?” Leluna asks, finally paying a kernel of attention to Duck.
“That’s Duck.”
“What the fuck kind of name is that?” Leluna chides.
“It’s an interesting story actually,” Duck starts, “it all started when I was only—”
“That’s nice, but grownups are talking right now. Why don’t you go play with some sticks or something?” Leluna sneers.
“He stays,” I say with a newfound fervor I hardly recognize.
Leluna lifts her hands in a placating manner while also rolling her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she says, “Let’s start over. Where have you been?”
“Away.”
“Where?”
“Not here.”
“I swear to the Sacred Six, Nova—if you don’t start telling me something, I’m going to beat you to an inch of your life,” Leluna threatens.
“We were in Orgard,” Duck says.
“Duck, no—” I warn.
“Well, specifically, we were in Andeil, but then a vylorian army with wyverns flew into the city and made a mess of things,” Duck regurgitates.
“That’s enough,” I warn again.
“That’s when we had to split up, Casaell and me, while Nova sir fought this scary dude with fireballs.”
“Shut up,” I growl as a final warning.
“And Nova sir brought us to this strange land after we found the harbor destroyed—Ouch ouch ouch. What was that for?”
I release my grip from the back of his neck, where I dig my fingernails into his flesh to force him to stop talking. I can’t stand reliving the events of Andeil.
“Orgard? Seriously?”
Duck is smart enough to not respond, which I consider progress.
“Yeah,” I say to Leluna but never looking her in the eye.
“Casaell of Gedaley?” she asks.
I wince at the mention of his name, wishing I hadn’t just heard it spoken from her lips.
“Yeah.”
“The entire kingdom is looking for him! Is he here or nearby?”
I shift uncomfortably on the wood log. Duck lowers his head in a defeated manner, also burdened by the heavy truth.
“They can call off their search,” I say solemnly.
It doesn’t take more than that for Leluna to understand, and I imagine the grim look on her face. We sit in heavy silence for a long while. Only the morning bustle of songbirds reverberates through the forest edge. The sun has risen high enough the foothills sheen a soft yellow along the green grass hills.
“That’s new,” Leluna says. I have to look at her to know what she’s referring to. She nods at the pendant dangling around my neck. The riosan prism sits against my collarbone, exposed beneath the open ties of my shirt. The sapphire prism still whispers sweet promises since the battle in Andeil. I ignore it…for the most part. Even now, its voice calls to me, begging me to release it. I shift my open collar to conceal it. Then something dawns on Leluna as her eyes widen, and she snaps her fingers in triumph.
“Black sapphire! That pendant you always wore, the one from your mother. It’s what made you look human, isn’t it?”
All I can muster is a nod in response.
“But why didn’t you just tell me? Or Ricon for that matter—unless he already knows,” Leluna says solemnly.
“He doesn’t.”
“Then why not trust us?”
I don’t answer. I’m not sure if I could answer since my mind is scrambled with somber thoughts and pitiful memories.
“Hey, cut this sulking shit out,” Leluna snaps. “I have every right to ask these questions—and you know what? I’m thoroughly pissed! You abandoned Ricon! Have you seen him? He’s missing an entire fucking arm, Nova,” she yells. I wallow in the shame of not being there for my friend.
“By gods, Nova. You couldn’t just wisp in for a checkup? We had no idea if you were still alive,” Leluna scolds.
“I couldn’t,” I mutter.
“Too busy having an adventure in Orgard with the Edonian prince and an elmmen fetus?”
“I can’t wisp,” I grumble.
“Bullshit.”
“When have I ever ran out of a building I’m stealing from?” I ask.
Leluna freezes, realizing my exit from the vineyard was out of character. Then she hooks a finger at Duck and says, “He said you brought you two here.”
“I did, but I don’t know how.” I hold out my wrist and brush my thumb against the broken runes.
“The assassin that attacked us in Laenberg bound parts of my magic. I can’t wisp.”
Leluna studies me for a long while, trying to discern any farse but eventually believing my word. “How long have you been back in Edonia?”
“Eight weeks,” I answer.
“Yet, still no visit?”
“Pretty sure you’ve noticed the pointy ears. Can’t really walk into a town or city in a country that will kill me on sight.” Leluna has the decency to wince slightly.
“Fair point,” Leluna says, then, “Well, this certainly makes things more complicated, but we’ll make do.”
“Mak
e do for what?”
“You’re coming with me. Your presence has been personally requested, and I’m already behind schedule. I was banking on the assumption that once I found you, we could just wisp there.”
“Luna, where are you taking me?”
“Coldwater Bay—Quenbluff, to be exact.”
“You’re kidding me,” I practically squeal incredulously. “By who?”
“The Queen of Pirates herself.”
“Last time we were in Coldwater Bay, we stole Ceryna’s ship.”
“Her favorite one. And sunk it.”
I squint at Leluna while deadpanning, “you wish me to be a eunuch, don’t you? She’ll castrate me!”
“The rebellion is seeking an alliance—we need her naval fleets to gain the upper hand in the war against Gedaley and the crown.”
“War?”
“You’ve missed a lot since you’ve been away in Orgard,” Leluna starts. “The lord and duchess of Laenberg were attacked—assassins, good ones.”
“Who are they?” Duck asks.
“Family of Cas—” I flinch at the careless sound of his name spoken from my lips. Leluna catches the sudden shift in my posture but doesn’t confront me about it. I ask, “Are they dead?”
“The capital certainly thinks they are. The royal family managed to escape through tunnel systems hidden beneath the keep that trail out to the harbor. They’re being hosted by Ceryna herself.”
“How diplomatic.”
“Yup. And they’re all waiting on us, so we better get a move on.”
“Nova, sir?” Duck asks.
I grunt in response, and he fidgets nervously.
“Did you want me to stay…here? I mean,” Duck gestures at the campsite. As nice as that might sound, I know I can’t leave him stranded in a foreign country geared to kill him.
“You’re coming with us, but you better keep up,” I chide. Duck instantly lights up bemused.
I turn back to Leluna and say, “We’ll need to stop in Hjornholm.”
“We don’t have the time—” Leluna starts, but I interrupt.