Mask of Shadows

by Linsey Miller

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  Copyright © 2017 by Linsey Miller

  Cover and internal design © 2017 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover art by Sasha Vinogradova

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Fire, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  www.sourcebooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Miller, Linsey, author.

  Title: Mask of shadows / Linsey Miller.

  Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Fire, [2017] | Summary: The gender fluid thief Sal Leon enters a competition to become a replacement member of the Left Hand—a quartet of the Queen’s personal assassins—but must first survive the training and the contests while putting the reason for auditioning into motion—revenge.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016050928 | (alk. paper)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Gender identity—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.M582 Mas 2017

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016050928

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To my father.

  It’s not a picture book about a figure-skating alligator like we planned, but I think you would’ve liked this one.

  One

  The thick, briny scent of sweat-soaked leather seeped through my cloth mask. A guarded carriage rattled down the road upwind of me. I leaned out of my tree and caught a flicker of light from a carriage lamp. The carriage’s blue paint shone, gilded and mud-splattered.

  I groaned. “Nobles.”

  The branches beneath me creaked as footsteps scraped along the bark. I flipped a knife into my palm. The sentence for robbing nobles was hanging.

  But only if they caught you.

  “Lords, Sal! Where you at?” Rath burst through the leaves and tripped over my perch.

  “Point of hiding is to stay hid.” I shoved him backward and yanked his mask down over his face. “What do you want?”

  Rath tapped my nose with his baton. “You up to robbing Erlends?”

  Erlends were stiff and cold as the lands they ruled and merciless as death. They’d hold a picnic at the gallows.

  I tightened the knots at the back of my mask. “You up to keeping quiet?”

  Rath slapped a hand over his mouth and nodded toward the carriage below us. I crept along my branch far as I dared, eyeing the coach’s window. If I had no shoulders, I’d fit through easy.

  “This’ll be fun.” I shook my head.

  This would hurt.

  “Fun-fun?” Rath rubbed the stump where his little finger had been. “Or ‘you miss and we all get hanged’ fun?”

  “Fun.”

  Rath huffed, scrambling out of my tree. His footsteps whispered over the deadfall, and a long, low bird whistle echoed between the trees. One call, one carriage, and one shot at meeting our quota.

  Horses clomped over the dirt, carrying the soldiers closer to our nets hidden in the trees. Ten mounted and armored guards circled the coach. They looked right and left, but they never glanced up. I exhaled and tightened my grip on the branch. The carriage rolled beneath me.

  We dropped the nets. The soldiers howled, spears and arms tangling in the lines, and the driver jerked the coach to a stop. Rath whistled.

  I flung myself from the tree. My boots tore through the carriage’s curtain and took out a passenger with a sharp heel to the head. My shoulders scraped both sides of the window frame as I slid into the carriage. I waved my knife.

  “Your money or your lives?” I asked, twisting round to the noble.

  “Money.” The noble was barely older than me and half a head shorter, but she squared her slim shoulders and glared at me over wire-rimmed spectacles. She nodded to the unconscious servant I’d kicked aside. “For her too.”

  I swallowed my usual command of “hush and drop your knives” and nodded. “Deal—jewelry, money, and all manner of fancy things in your lap.”

  Finally, someone smart enough to know they weren’t winning this fight.

  She yanked the rings from her fingers. I rid the servant of her purse with one hand and held my knife to the noble with the other. Clever as she seemed, I didn’t trust a noble not to plant a hatpin in my back. She cleared her throat.

  “Problem, Erlend?” I glanced at her.

  “No.” She stared at my knife. “And you may call me ‘my lady’ or nothing at all.”

  I grinned and bowed. How Erlend of her—better than screaming and fighting though. “Of course, my lady.”

  She shifted. Her jewelry was a puddle of silver in her lap, with her purse half-closed over crumpled paper. She’d laced her fingers together to hide her trembling.

  “You missed one.” I lifted a small locket from her neck, doing my best not to scare her. Wasn’t like I enjoyed scaring people, especially not the ones being smart when I robbed them. Being efficient got the same results as being mean. “And I’m not going to stab you unless you stab me first.”

  “You’re robbing me at knifepoint.” She jerked away. A sneer twisted her pleasant face into the Erlend expression I knew so well. “It’s not valuable.”

  “It’s got real rubies.” I turned it over. Twisted-copper rose petals with inlaid ruby slivers adorned the front of the locket. I snapped open the clasp. Two portraits were glued inside—one of a child with chubby cheeks and the other of a
woman veiled in blue who shared this lady’s long nose. I slid my knife into the sheath on my belt and dropped the necklace. “Take it off.”

  Her hands flew to her throat. “It’s not valuable.”

  “Shush. I’m not going to take it, but you need to hide it.”

  Wouldn’t do for Rath to bust in and find the lady with jewels still around her neck. He’d laugh at me for days and take the necklace.

  She fumbled with the clasp and hissed when her hair tangled in the chain.

  “Quiet! Hold still.” A dark curl was knotted around the thin chain. I tugged it free, inhaling a deep breath of her rosewater perfume and stumbling over my words. “My boss finds out I let you keep this, he’ll take my hand.”

  “I’ll try to keep your mercy out of the warrant description.” She smiled. Barely. “But thank you.”

  First time anyone thanked me for robbing them. She was frightfully pretty too, with her dark curls and confident chin, standing up to me without fighting. Talking someone down took nerve and smarts.

  She pulled away and her warm scent went with her.

  “Hide it. Sorry I mucked up your hair.” I gestured to the curls behind her ears. Lusting after Erlends would get me nowhere but dead.

  “Well, I am being robbed.” She slipped the locket up her sleeve into a hidden pocket and patted down her hair. “You’re young for a road agent and nicer than the stories I’ve heard.”

  “And you’re young for a member of the queen’s court. Bet that pissed off all your old Erlend friends.” I held up her silver ring stamped with Our Queen’s entwined lightning bolts. She couldn’t have been more than a year older than me. “You piss them off too much and they might send you out here with too few guards and refuse to pay your ransom.”

  I’d not put it past those warlords to turn on their own for profit.

  A scream ripped through the window as the scuffle outside pitched into shouts and clashing swords, and the lady lurched away from me.

  “Sorry—not kidnapping you. Only joking.” I pocketed her ring and bowed. “Apologies for scaring you, my lady.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not for the robbery?”

  “Only for scaring you.” I whistled once—I was done, time to go—and nudged the servant with my toe. “And for kicking her. Tell her I’m sorry for that.”

  “And the robbery?” She didn’t even flinch, just lifted her chin.

  “Lords, girl, and the robbery. You harass everyone?” I twisted round, memorizing the line of her jaw, the fall of hair over her light-brown cheeks, and the smear of freckles along her nose. Least I’d have one bright light among my list of bad, bloody memories.

  “Only the ones robbing me.” She smiled, lips closed and eyes narrowed. “You’re not one of those who’ve been kidnapping, are you?”

  “No, they’re vicious as cottonmouths and running the southern roads. Stay clear of there.” I gestured at her, waiting for Rath’s answering whistle. “But tell them I was mean. For my warrant.”

  Those fools kidnapping nobles would steer clear of our roads if they thought we were meaner than them.

  “Terrifying,” she said with a mock gasp. “A giant, monstrous beast with knives and a mask as hideous as their manners. It’ll save my guards their egos.”

  I opened my mouth to make her take back the manners jab when the carriage door flew open. Rath ripped the top hinge clear off.

  “More guards,” he hollered, shaking his head and flinging blood across the carriage.

  Fast as he’d appeared, he’d vanished into the trees. Outside the carriage, soldiers and thieves flailed in the darkness, a tangle of limbs and blades. I glanced at the lady.

  “You want that warrant, then you have to escape.” She shoved me out the door. “Go.”

  I leapt out of the coach and into the night, her image scorched into my mind.

  Two

  “Road patrols swapped routes.” Rath tore through the underbrush, stolen spears slung across his shoulder and bouncing on his back. “I nicked their reins, but they might follow. Most loyal guards I’ve ever seen.”

  “You get much off them?” I stopped and turned an ear to the forest behind us. Nothing coming.

  Even if the guards chased us, they’d pass out from heat sickness. I could barely stand the humid air in trousers and a shirt. Armor was sweaty torture.

  “Not enough.” He skidded through mud at the edge of a lake and jumped onto a rock, leaving a track straight into the water. He leapt from stone to stone along the water’s edge. “Think having only eight fingers is acceptable?”

  Grell da Sousa—our gang leader who ran every street fight, robbery, and gambling house in the district of Kursk—took Rath’s little finger when we were nine. Rath had only skimmed enough for room and board, but that day, we’d dropped below quota. We hadn’t missed quota since.

  “Who needs fingers?” I ripped off my mask, timing each breath with my strides. Breathing through linen was like gasping underwater. “I lifted some pearls and gems. Should be enough to cover us. Let’s go.”

  Rath veered right back onto the bank.

  I followed. I had to. Grell had sucked me into this profession when I was eight. He gave me the option of either paying him a tribute or losing a finger for every coin I stole in his district. Eight-year-old me liked my fingers. Rath and I worked together, saving wisely and rigging bets liberally, but I’d no sooner trust him to guard my back as Grell. Least Grell was upfront about clipping fingers.

  Grell had lost his own finger in a fight, learned from it, and saw no wrong in teaching us how to live by breaking us down piece by piece.

  I slipped my hand into the lady’s purse and pulled out her small silver ring. The band scraped over my busted knuckles, but it was prettier than anything I’d ever owned.

  “You’re dawdling.” Rath turned to me, now running backward. A tree loomed over his shoulders. “Losing focus in your old age?”

  “Sharper and younger than you still.” I studied the crest on the ring. Running and robbery went hand in hand, and I could outrun Rath with my eyes closed. “Mind yourself.”

  “Always do.”

  He smacked into the tree.

  Rath was a terrible thief. He wanted a real licensed shop with customers and as little fencing as possible, but he’d never make enough to buy his way into the merchant class running under Grell. He’d never make enough without me either, and he couldn’t double-cross me because of it. Grell let us keep enough to get by and took enough to keep us crawling back to him. I’d set my sights on cheaper dreams.

  Buying my way into the military.

  I hefted the purse from my belt, tugged Rath out of his tangle with the tree, and slowed our pace. Rath peered over my shoulder into the purse.

  Igna’s shiny new silver coins and Erlend’s useless old gold clinked around next to a piece of paper. After Our Queen Ignasi ended the civil war between Erlend and Alona, she combined the two nations into Igna and created a new set of currencies. It was meant to unite us or some such nonsense, but I kept finding Erlend gold in Erlend pockets. They couldn’t let go of the past.

  “Skimming?” Rath elbowed me. “Not like you.”

  “I’m not reckless.” I held up the piece of paper, hiding my fingers behind it as I lifted the ring and squeezed it over an old broken knuckle. “And I like my fingers intact.”

  “Excuse you.” Rath touched the last three fingers of his uninjured hand to his lips, thumb and forefinger curled against his palm. “I’m recklessly ambitious, and who needs fingers?”

  “An ambitious ass.” I unfolded the paper and grinned. “Praying to the Triad won’t grow that finger back.”

  Rath scowled and made the motion again, exaggerating the move. “What’s that?”

  “Poster.” Emblazoned across the top were branches of lightning striking the green tree of Erlend over the blue waves of Alona. The Alonian words beneath were repeated in Erlenian, and both were useless to me. “What’s it say?”

  I c
ould read a handful of words—names and numbers mostly—but Grell preferred to have us totally at his mercy.

  “Auditions.” Rath traced the Alonian and squinted. He was from the southern coast of Alona, and it showed in the bronze hues of his dark skin and the gray flecks in his black eyes—salted eyes, he called them. “Our Queen of the Eastern Spires and Lady of Lightning requires a new Opal for her Left Hand. Auditions are open to those who receive an invitation or individuals displaying appropriate skill and determination.”

  Opal was dead then. I picked up our pace. Our Queen’s Left Hand was her collection of assassins and personal guards named for the rings she wore—Ruby, Emerald, Opal, and Amethyst.

  They belonged to her and did as she pleased, killing those who threatened her rule. Like the Erlend holdouts, the ones holed away up north who’d started the civil war with Alona. They’d used their territory, Nacea, as a distraction to save themselves when the war went rotten. Now Nacea—my country and my people—was dead and gone. It would take me years to get into the military so I could hunt down the Erlend lords responsible, but if I auditioned, I’d have a way into the palace. They’d be mine now.

  They’d no right to live while Nacea stood razed and empty. Rodolfo da Abreu, the mage who’d done what we’d all dreamed of and murdered the Erlends who’d created the shadows, had the right idea: kill them and make sure they couldn’t stir up trouble again.

  Of course, he’d ended up dead but so had the Erlend mages fueling the war. I could finish what he’d started and avenge Nacea in one fell swoop.

  Six days till the audition. I smacked Rath’s shoulder. “Read it to me again—the invitation part.”

  “Auditions for those with an invitation or appropriately displayed skills.” Rath stuffed the poster into my chest pocket. “Who you think got invitations?”

  “Young nobles and their friends,” I said without hesitation. “Keeps it fair if they think one of theirs is part of the Left Hand and will be for years to come.”

  I’d never killed anyone, but if Our Queen asked, how could I take issue? She ended the war and corralled the nobles. She was the only person keeping us safe from noble greed, and they courted assassination when they betrayed her—just like Rath and I knew we could hang for thieving.

  But I’d have to win to get close to nobles, and I’d never fought trained opponents in a straight bout.

  Surely, assassins didn’t fight fair.