by Cayla Keenan
He had to keep going. The dust swirled as fresh air somehow found its way into the tunnel. Maddix inhaled deeply, ignoring his protesting ribs. He clung to the sharp, familiar smell of the dyeing vats and coffeehouses that whispered of home, of freedom. Maddix craned his neck to see a crack in the roof of the tunnel and through it, he could see something winking in the black of the sky—
The stars.
Chapter Four:
Jayin
Jayin hated the Pit. It stank of fear and hopelessness, all churning together in the dark. She’d been there before looking for information, though she’d never been there after a convict had escaped, and never with Maerta sniffing disdainfully only a few feet away. The Kingswitch had known better than to partner them on assignments, and Jayin could already feel her patience wearing thin.
This was going to end badly and, most likely, with Jayin’s fist becoming acquainted with Maerta’s nose. It would be a pity to ruin such a fine dress, but somehow Jayin would suffer through.
“I don’t recall it taking you this long before,” Maerta commented airily.
Easy for her to say, she wasn’t being swamped with every insane thought and suicidal impulse of the monsters being housed here. Jayin gritted her teeth together, trying to focus.
“Maybe your year of living among the rabble has dulled your abilities.” She sounded far too pleased at the prospect.
“Or maybe I need to concentrate,” Jayin replied, tilting her head up to look the smug witch in the eye. Jayin generally avoided eye contact, but she made an exception for Maerta. The pretty, benign smile was still firmly set in place, but there was an unmistakable flash of panic as Jayin’s green eyes met hers.
“The smell of your mistress’ perfume is lovely. Does your wife know that you’re having an affair? And with a dayri too,” Jayin said coolly. She raised an eyebrow, looking Maerta up and down. “Really, if you’re going to be sneaking around Laurel’s back, you might want to do it with someone that doesn’t favor floral scents.”
Maerta just stared, her lips pursing slightly. Jayin took that to mean she’d won this round.
“Now if you don’t mind.” Jayin gestured towards the door, and after a minute, Maerta backed out of the cell, leaving the torch behind. Angry, venomous thoughts spilled over her aura like ink, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Jayin didn’t let it bother her. Maerta had always been jealous, especially when it became clear that Jayin had surpassed her as the Kingswitch’s favorite.
Jayin shook her head, dismissing thoughts of the Palace. The sooner she found Maddix Kell, the sooner she could disappear, and this time she would vanish so completely they would never find her again. Jayin closed her eyes, pulling down her mental barriers bit by bit and fighting the urge to let them snap back into place. There was no way to focus her perception and no way to streamline it, so filtering through all of the energy in the air sometimes took more strength than she possessed.
Stars, Jayin hated the Pit.
The prisoner across the hall hadn’t been lucid in thirteen months. His mind was swimming with so much sensory overload it was a miracle the pain hadn’t driven him to cave in his own skull. Her head pounded from being so close to him, and she could feel her nerves fraying already. A woman in the cell above was carving up her own skin, her ragged nails clawing deep gouges in the meat of her inner arm. Jayin could taste blood in the back of her mouth, and the skin on her right forearm stung and itched where the woman was pulling her own apart.
“Burning skies,” Jayin swore, hanging her head in her hands. She hadn’t used her abilities like this since she’d run away. This was a hell of a way to get back in the game. Slowly, she inhaled through her nose, trying to focus. “Breathe,” she told herself. “Just breathe.” Her voice echoed strangely off the walls.
Jayin turned her attention to the cell’s missing occupant and staggered. It was a wonder she had noticed the other prisoners at all. Kell was everywhere. His energy clung to every surface, filling the air as if he was standing in the room with her.
And he was scared. He was confused and terrified and angry. Furious. Whatever the reason for his escape, Kell wasn’t just trying to evade the hangman’s noose. He was after something.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jayin muttered, sorting through Kell’s residual aura and following his trail into the hall.
“What is it?” Maerta asked.
“How long has this cell been empty?” Jayin demanded, pushing into the tiny space adjacent to Kell’s. It was vacant, though it had housed a prisoner just a day ago.
The guard shrugged, looking altogether unconcerned that not one, but two prisoners had escaped. He had the look of a man that spent more time on duty chewing violeaf than watching those under his charge.
“Unbelievable,” Jayin growled, snatching the torch from the man’s hands and searching the other escapee’s cell. There, practically in plain sight, was a hole in the floor easily big enough for two men to fit through. Somehow Kell must have picked the lock on his door and then this one, while his partner worked on the tunnel. And if the smell coming out of the hole was any indication, it led directly to the sewers.
“Do the catacombs run under here?” Jayin snapped at the apathetic guard. True to form, the man only shrugged, and Jayin turned away from him, rubbing her temples.
Jayin had long heard the rumors of whole colonies of people living in the tunnels under Pavaal, but she’d never checked them out. Now it seemed obvious. The Pit was already underground. Kell’s accomplice must have known that his cell lay above a sewage pipe, and if the stories about the catacombs were true, there were miles of uncharted tunnels beneath Pavaal. They could already be out of the capitol by now.
“Hold your breath,” Jayin said, lowering herself into the hole. There wasn’t much by way of a ladder and the smell only got worse as she descended, but Jayin was able to make it all the way to the bottom. “You coming?” Maerta peered down at her, disgust shimmering in her aura. Jayin rolled her eyes.
Of course not.
“Don’t get any ideas about making a new life for yourself down there, sweetling,” Maerta warned, her pretty features warped in the flickering light from the torch.
“We both know you’re more suited to skulking around in the dark,” Jayin said coolly, savoring the flash anger that twisted Maerta’s mouth into a scowl. “But if I find you a summer home, I’ll let you know when I resurface.”
Without giving her a chance to answer, Jayin took off down the tunnel. Kell’s trail was so easy to follow he could have been leading her himself. His energy took up the majority of her focus, but Jayin was able to sense his accomplice as well.
Something about the second man flourished in the dark. He was slimy as Kell was bright, and his intention wasn’t just to escape. He sought violence, keened for it, and suddenly Jayin knew that she wouldn’t like whatever she found at the end of the tunnel.
Time was hard to gauge without the sun guiding her, but it felt like she’d been walking for hours when Jayin found the cave-in. It was recent, within the last day or so, and the trail went straight through. Whatever had happened, it had trapped Kell and his accomplice inside.
“What I wouldn’t give for something more than flash,” Jayin muttered to herself. Years ago, when it had become clear that she had no physical magic, Jayin learned the use of parlor tricks. Most dayri had no idea what real magic looked like, so a few words in the language of the Oldlands and some smoke was enough to fool them. For those not so easily duped, Jayin found that serrated steel was all the magic she needed.
Thankfully, she’d chosen to wear her duster despite the heat of the day. The long overcoat earned her some strange looks in the Gull, but sahir were warm-blooded people, prone to chills. It was an old instinct, and one of the few that unified witches these days.
Searching inside one of her coat’s many pockets, Jayin pulled out two packets of blast powder and fished around for a light. She used the third packet to fashion a fuse and l
it it as far away from the rockslide as she could manage. Jayin turned and bolted, positioning herself well away from the explosion. Still, the shockwave knocked her off of her feet. Skies, Jayin thought blearily. That stuff has kick.
Jayin peered into the reopened tunnel, shaking off the dizziness and ignoring the ringing in her ears. Miraculously, her torch’s flame survived the explosion, casting shadows on the inside of the cavern. The stench was foul, and Jayin didn’t need magic to follow the trail to a body. Blood was spattered all over the tunnel walls and floor, originating from two different sources.
Only one was still alive.
Kell’s accomplice was small in death, curling in on himself like a child. Half of his head was caved in, blood and brains already congealed on the ground.
Jayin caught her breath, inhaling through her mouth to keep from being overwhelmed by the smell. It took some doing, but she managed to sort through the energy that hung in the air like the stench of the man’s corpse. She’d been around plenty of bodies, but this one was different. There was no anger here, no malice, not on the part of the killer. Kell was scared and injured, trying to defend himself. So much of his blood had spilled that it was a miracle he had managed to stay conscious, let alone walk away.
“Where are you going?” Jayin murmured. There was a hole in the roof, no doubt shaken loose by the cave-in. Kell’s blood made a clear, obvious path. Jayin breathed deeply, inhaling the fresh air as soon as she was free of the tunnel. She was never going underground again.
If he had any sense at all, Kell was on his way out of the city and Jayin should follow suit. She could find a way to the coast, maybe charter a ship to the Southern Isles. There wasn’t any love lost between witches and dayri there, but the Southern Council hated the King and Kingswitch more than they distrusted sahir.
“Thinking about making a run for it?” Maerta said, appearing by Jayin’s side as she brushed sewer muck from her clothes. Jayin twitched, composing herself quickly, and fought the urge to strike out with armored fists.
Maerta wasn’t alone. An enormous man loomed slightly behind her, every inch an enforcer and worse, a magical one.
“If I’m being tracked, it’s just good manners to tell me,” Jayin said. Maerta must have been following her progress aboveground. Probably using the same person that had been keeping tabs on her for the past year. Jayin eyed the enormous man, wondering if she could take out the enforcer before Maerta tried to stop her. The odds weren’t good, Jayin had been on the wrong end of Maerta’s magic before. It wasn’t an experience she cared to repeat.
“And ruin the surprise?” Maerta asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. “None of your replacements are half as good as you are, but they manage.”
“You had to replace me with more than one tracker? That’s adorable.” And pathetic. They really must have been scrambling once she defected.
Once again, the depth of her naïveté hit her in full force. Jayin should’ve known they would have people looking for her once she left; she should’ve known she would be replaced. She never thought they would need more than one person to do her job, but Jayin had also been sure she would be able to slip their net. If there was one thing Jayin was better at than finding people, it was getting lost.
“Kell is headed out of Pavaal.”
“Well, then you better get going,” Maerta said. Jayin raised an eyebrow. She was allowed out of the city? On her own? “Nel will be accompanying you. For your safety, of course.” Maerta gestured to the hulking man by her side.
“Of course,” Jayin said, turning her lips up in the parody of a smile. She eyed the enforcer up and down before turning back to Maerta. “I didn’t know you needed such extreme security.”
“The Kingswitch has concerns about my safety,” she said, sniffing imperiously. Maerta fancied herself undervalued and moaned about it constantly. “And despite my recommendation, his protection still extends to you.”
“Touching,” Jayin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Maerta clearly wasn’t going to make this easy, and after slogging through the tunnels for the better part of the day, Jayin was exhausted. “Well, if we’re going to find the most wanted man in the kingdom, we’d best get started. Come on, muscles.”
Jayin wanted to follow Kell a little further tonight, but there was no way she was bringing Maerta’s enormous lapdog back to her apartment. The Palace might already know where she lived, but if anyone from the gangs saw her come back with someone who was so obviously working for the King, there would be nothing to come back to. The carrions would burn the whole place to the ground on principle.
“Stay in contact,” Maerta said as Jayin and her new friend turned to go. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost again.” Jayin bit her lip, fighting the urge to say something she might regret. It was best that Maerta thought she was playing this little game.
“So what’s your story?” Jayin asked Nel when they finally stopped to rest. “Sit down, muscles, you’re making me nervous,” she said, falling into a chair in the crowded dining hall of the Fire and Feathers Inn. Nel glared at her for a moment before following suit. The chair groaned under his weight.
“You’re not dayri, that’s for damn sure,” Jayin tried again once a serving girl had taken their order. The food was good here, much better quality than anything Jayin could get her hands on in the Gull. The only thing she missed about the Palace was the food. She still had dreams about Cook Heida’s spiced plums. Jayin didn’t know what it was about non-witches that made them averse to spices, but dayri cuisine was staggeringly bland.
“I’m guessing that you’re some kind of kinetic,” Jayin said around a mouthful of warm bread. “But if you don’t want to tell me, I could always find out on my own. Who knows what kind of secrets you’ve got hiding up there in that tiny brain of yours.”
It was an empty threat. Jayin had no interest in Nel or his secrets, but he didn’t know that.
“Kinetic, like you said,” Nel rumbled. The thought of her prying into his thoughts was enough to get him talking. Jayin paused, waiting for him to fill the silence. Kinetics couldn’t create energy or manipulate elements like elementals; they just used what was already there. On bad days, Jayin would trade everything she had for their more manageable abilities. “Energy absorption and redistribution.”
A fancy way of saying that he was very good at punching things.
“Enlightening,” Jayin said, and Nel fiddled with his spoon. Clearly, he didn’t want to give her any more information. Jayin didn’t push, changing the subject. “So what did you do wrong?” she asked.
“What?”
“To get stuck with Maerta. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s horrible.”
Nel almost smiled. “She’s not that bad.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Jain said, raising her eyebrows. There was a reason why Jayin had shouldered the isolation of the Gull so well. Maerta was the Kingswitch’s favorite before Jayin arrived, and she did not adapt well to being second-best. The Palace was supposed to be Jayin’s home, the sahir her family, but Maerta made sure that everyone knew that Jayin was nothing but an upstart, a mongrel from the slums.
Jayin forced thoughts of Marta out of her head. She didn’t want to lose her appetite, and this could be her last decent meal for the foreseeable future.
As soon as her plate was empty, she stretched her arms over her head, yawning. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for the sparkling conversation, muscles.”
Nel stood quicker than Jayin would have thought possible. Idly, she wondered if she’d be able to loop her arms around his thick neck. Strangulation wasn’t her style but it never hurt to have options.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Look, I get it. You don’t trust me. And considering that you work for Maerta, I don’t trust you either. But I’m not going anywhere.” Nel glowered, unimpressed. Jayin rolled her eyes, fishing in her coat pocket. “Here,” she said, pressing a lock of black hair into his enormous hand. “If you
don’t believe me, give this to someone with real magic and they’ll be able to find me.”
Nel’s scowl deepened. It was a sore spot. Kinetics were widely regarded as the lowest rung on the magical ladder, brutish and only good as battle fodder, though Aestos hadn’t seen a proper fight in decades. No one wanted to go to war with a kingdom that fought with magic instead of steel.
“You keep hair in your pocket?” Nel asked.
“It never hurts to be prepared,” Jayin said with a wink and smile. “Goodnight, Muscles.” She turned away from him, climbing the narrow stairs to her tiny rented room.
As soon as she had locked the door securely behind her, Jayin turned to the window, where a familiar face was pressed against the glass.
“Hiya Jay!” Ravi said, waving cheerfully as if he wasn’t precariously perched on a third-story window. He had been following Jayin since she’d gone to meet Kane, something that might have earned him a stern lecture or a boxed ear on any other day, but not today. Today, she needed him. If there was something Ravi excelled at, it was tailing a mark. “Who’s the big guy?” he asked as he swung into the room.
“Someone I need to get rid of,” Jayin said. Ravi frowned, his dark eyes clouding over with worry.
“You in some kind of trouble?” he asked, teeth worrying at his lip. Jayin felt an unexpected pang of affection at his concern.
“Nothing I can’t handle with a little help from my favorite pickpocket,” Jayin said.
Ravi nodded seriously as Jayin laid out her plan, which was less of a plan and more of a harebrained gamble, but she was short on time. She’d had to give Nel something so he would let her go upstairs alone, but unfortunately, that something could actually be used to track her. She didn’t need that lumbering idiot as well as a team in Ayrie Palace on the lookout, which meant Ravi had to steal it back. Easier said than done, but Jayin knew he was more than capable.
Still, if anything happened to him, she’d kill Nel herself. Her arms might not be long enough to strangle him, but a knife in the gut would do just fine. Jayin forced the thought away; Ravi would be fine. He could handle himself.