by Cayla Keenan
“I’ll come with you,” Kell offered.
“You’re a wanted felon, and I’m the one who can sharp,” Jayin said. How he failed to understand how little she wanted to do with him was beyond her. “Go to bed, traitor.”
“Deal me in,” she said, sitting at one of the card tables. A portly, balding man looked her up and down, his lip curling.
“You know how to play Dead Man Sevens?”
“Do you?” Jayin fired back.
“Deal the girl in,” said another man, this one with sandy hair and dark eyes. “She’s allowed to lose her money just like everybody else.”
Jayin inclined her head and accepted the cards as they were dealt to her. Sevens was a game she knew well, one she used to play with the other sahir in the Palace. Until they realized that she was sharping them and banned her from playing. It wasn’t her fault. At least, it wasn’t at first. Divining the other players’ cards took so little magic Jayin hardly realized she was doing it. Before she got caught, Jayin learned a thing or two about cheating. In the Gull, knowing how to sharp had come in handy when money was tight.
The trick was not to win every hand. Jayin knew if she won too big, too quick, it would be suspicious, and these didn’t seem to be the types of men to take kindly to being sharped. Especially since two of them were cheating themselves. Jayin didn’t mind, allowing herself to be played for a couple of rounds. Then slowly, one card at a time, she started winning her money back. By the end of an hour, Jayin had tripled her lira. It was enough to get them to Pavaal, and if she survived this, to the Isles like she’d planned.
“I’m out,” Jayin said finally, setting her cards down and scooping up her winnings.
“Don’t tell me you’ve given up on us,” the dark-eyed man said. He had nervous hands, fiddling with his cards or the hem of his sleeve. “You’re the only interesting one here, and by far the prettiest.”
Jayin raised an eyebrow. “I know when to call it a night,” she replied. She thumbed the trigger on her forearm sheath. The man’s aura was sugary, cloying and sticky like molasses.
“Come on,” he insisted. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“I hate to break it to you,” Jayin said. “But I’m married.”
“Bachelors everywhere weep at the loss of you,” the man said. He took a step closer, and Jayin lowered her shields, seeking him out. There was something off about him. She’d just found the answer when something pinched her side. “You know, you’re very good,” the man said. His voice began to morph, lowering in pitch, and around her, the room began to spin.
She needed to go, but she couldn’t remember why. Some small part of her mind seemed to realize she’d been drugged and she tried to stagger away or call for help, but the poison stole her voice.
“Easy there, love,” the man said, steadying her. The moment his skin touched hers, Jayin remembered.
“Bounty hunter,” she slurred.
“Man’s gotta make a living.” The swirling was giving way to nothingness, and Jayin fumbled for a dagger. “Ah ah, none of that. Don’t want anyone getting hurt, do we?” the man said, pulling her hand away.
“You’re making a…mistake,” Jayin mumbled. Her head felt too big, too heavy, and she had no choice but to lay it against the man’s chest.
“I don’t think I am,” the man whispered, pressing his lips to her temple. Jayin flinched violently, shoving away from him. She managed to stand up straight and take a single step under her own power before she earned another sting for her efforts.
“Get away from me,” Jayin said, swinging her fist.
He laughed, batting her hand away. “You’re trouble, but I think you’ll be worth it.”
Chapter Twenty:
Maddix
The witch was gone. She was gone. Vanished in the night. Maddix knew he should have stayed with her, but he hadn’t wanted to test his luck. Even with the bracelet, the look she’d given him promised violence. So he’d gone to bed and let her out of his sight like a fool.
And now she’d run away.
Maddix hadn’t bothered waiting up for her, shutting himself in his room and trying to get as much sleep as possible. The witch never voiced a word of complaint as they trudged through the countryside, but Maddix knew he was slowing. For such a small person, she seemed to have reserves of energy the rest of them lived without.
They barely said two words to one another, and Maddix told himself he didn’t mind. He was too busy planning ahead. Once this was all over and done with, he had his whole life ahead of him. There was a whole world out there, and he’d spent enough of his life trapped in one place. He wanted to see Vandel and the Isles. Maybe leave the Three Kingdoms altogether and travel to the colonies across the sea. He would go everywhere and see every corner the world had to offer.
But he would never get the chance if he didn’t find the skyforsaken witch that was his only chance at clearing his name.
“Hey,” Maddix said to the barman behind the counter. “I’m looking for my, uh, my wife?” He tripped over his words, trying to remember the story. “She was playing cards last night. Small, dark, short black hair. Long coat. She probably won a bit of money.”
“Aye, I remember her.” The man gave him a pitying look and Maddix’s stomach swooped. “I think yer girl might be stepping out on you, laddie.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw her leave with one of the regulars. A man named Oskar, he plays cards a couple of nights a week. She looked like she’d drunk her weight in whiskey, swaying all over the place.”
“Can you tell me where to find him?” Maddix asked, not bothering to hide the desperation in his voice. Let the barman think he was an idiot newlywed looking for his missing wife, maybe it would garner him some sympathy. “Please. I think she might be in trouble.”
“Far as I know, Oskar’s got a place on the edge of town. Real run down, near the water. Yer girl might be there.”
The house was exactly as the barman had described, a rickety shack at the river’s edge that looked like a strong gust of wind might blow it over.
Please, please, please, Maddix prayed as he crept to the side of the house. No sound came from inside, and he couldn’t see anyone from his vantage point.
The lock on the door was easy to pick and the door itself was practically falling off of its hinges. Maddix let himself in, barely breathing in case he wasn’t alone, but it didn’t matter. The place was empty. Dust and debris piled under the broken windows, and winding vines snaked in through the gaps in the walls. Something shifted against the wall, and Maddix whirled, his hand flying to the sword on his hip. A single piece of paper was tacked to the wood and Maddix’s heart plummeted as he recognized the face peering back at him. The witch wasn’t as hard around the eyes and her hair was longer, but it was undeniably her.
Maddix cursed, ripping the poster down.
She’d been taken then. The bounty hunter must have recognized her in the tavern. Or perhaps her magic had made a trail straight for them. It didn’t matter now; she was gone and he had to get her back.
“Falling skies,” Maddix swore, putting his fist through one of the crumbling walls. He cocked his fist again before something tugged at his wrist. Maddix went still, his eyes flicking down to the cuff.
Again, the bracelet pulled at him, more insistently this time. Slowly, step-by-step, Maddix allowed himself to be led along by the strange tug in his gut. It wasn’t physical, he realized after a little experimentation, but something else, something deep inside of him. When he went in the right direction, the pull lessened.
Fiddling with magic had never served in the past, but he couldn’t go forward without her. Maddix was the one who’d dragged her on the path back to Pavaal. He was the one putting her in danger. He needed her. She was the only one who could help him, and he wasn’t willing to give up on two years of planning because someone had stolen his guide.
Maddix quickly realized following on foot was impossible. Whoever had her, they w
ere moving fast, and he couldn’t keep up.
He needed a horse. Maddix sidled up to the first barn he saw and made easy work of the lock. The only horse in the stable, a whickering palfrey, snapped at him, but allowed Maddix to bridle her once bribed with an apple.
Maddix’s hand went to his throat as he rode out of town as fast as he could, praying against all odds that no one would notice him on his stolen horse. For once, his fickle star shined in his favor; the town was practically deserted. The farmlands had been dying for years, and every spring more and more people crowded into the cities to find jobs and shelter as their crops withered. The more hopeful among them remained, waiting for help that would never come. Maddix set a hard pace, trying to close the gap between them as quickly as possible.
Then the witch woke up.
His arms burned even though he wasn’t bound, and his head snapped to the side from a stinging backhand. She was definitely awake and fighting. As promised, Maddix could already feel bruises forming, mottling his skin black and blue. After the second slap, Maddix thought of maybe taking the bracelet off, to spare himself pain. But then he wouldn’t have any idea how to find her and nothing to go by.
The connection pulsed insistently as he got closer, turning off of the main road onto a path so overgrown with weeds it was hardly visible. That, he supposed, was the point.
Carefully dismounting, Maddix tied the palfrey to a tree and left her with the last of the water from his canteen. Maddix had one hand on his sword as he made his way forward, the connection thumping inside of him like a second heartbeat.
Whoever had taken her—this Oskar—had a serious liking for rundown buildings. This one was in even worse shape than the other, and Maddix could hear voices coming from the inside.
“So what’s the plan here?” the witch asked as Maddix crept towards the structure. “Because right now, I’m not impressed.”
Stars, Maddix thought desperately. Stop talking.
“Been kidnapped before, have you?” a thin voice replied. Oskar. Maddix moved around the building, looking for a way inside.
“I’ve seen my fair share of scum,” she said. “And as far as monsters go, you do not measure up.”
“It’s not me you should be worrying about, love,” Oskar said, and even from outside the walls, Maddix could hear the man’s leering smile. “It’s the people I’m going to sell you to.” The witch sucked in an audible breath. “Sahir fetch such a wonderful price.”
“Your buyers are going to be very disappointed then,” she said without inflection. The witch was an impressive liar, but Maddix could feel his own heart pick up in response to her fear.
Stepping over bits of splintered wood and broken glass, Maddix picked his way through the house. He was sure Oskar would hear him, but the man seemed too busy grandstanding to notice much else.
The witch was facing him, tied up in a chair with her arms wrenched behind her. A white stone hung around her neck.
Her eyes widened as she saw Maddix through the walls and he quickly put a finger to his lips. Distract him, he mouthed. Hopefully, she’d keep talking and give him a way to get Oskar out of the room. Maybe then he could slip in and free her without the man noticing that he was there.
He should have known better.
The witch started laughing. She looked half-mad, tied up and helpless, obviously disarmed—her knife belt lay discarded in a corner though her magicked gloves remained—cackling like a moon-struck loon.
“Have you lost it then, love?” Oskar asked. His fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against his leg. Maddix understood the feeling. The witch had that effect on people.
“No, but you’re about to.” He had no idea how she’d managed it, but suddenly she was free and moving. She sprang at Oskar, and Maddix took it as his cue. He burst into the room, brandishing his sword. For a moment, they had the advantage. The witch was adhered to Oskar’s back like some kind of Dark monkey, her arms wrapped around his throat.
Maddix was able to back him into a corner before Oskar shook the witch off. He threw her away from him, and she went flying, hitting the wall with a crack. White stars danced in Maddix’s vision, and he nearly went to his knees as the pain reverberated up his spine. Out of the corner of his eye, Maddix could see the girl’s motionless body, her limbs splayed wide. Please be okay, he thought, forgetting if she’d died on impact, it would’ve killed him too.
Oskar snarled, swinging his sword down. Maddix parried the blow. Not fast enough. The blade cut him high on his leg and blood gushed. “You should not be interfering in my business.”
The clang of metal shivered through the air and with every blocked strike, Maddix felt himself slowing.
He wasn’t aware that the crystal around his neck had come loose until pain exploded in his head. Maddix didn’t even have time to scream, his knees giving out beneath him. He was able to hang onto his sword, but he was in no shape to fight, not with splinters of agony ripping inside of his skull.
Somewhere, he could hear the witch hissing ragged curses. Maddix had just enough presence of mind to be grateful she was conscious
“Freaks, both of you.” Oskar pulled his sword back and Maddix closed his eyes, bracing for impact that never came. His blade clattered to the ground, landing just shy of Maddix’s midsection.
The witch’s voice sounded above him, furious and vengeful. “Khayald.” The word was an accusation, a condemnation, a death sentence. Her hands were outstretched, fingers twitching, and Oskar screamed like he was being ripped apart. “You want a monster? I’ll give you one.”
“Stop,” Maddix ground through clenched teeth. Through the splitting pain in his head, he managed to stand. Darkness swirled around the witch’s hands, twisting between her fingers. “Val—stop! You’re killing him.”
“I mean to,” she said. Her voice lost its anger, leaving only perfect, terrible calm behind. She clenched her fist and, what was left of Oskar fell, hitting the floor with a heavy thump. His skin was gray, mouth was stretched into one last, eternal scream. Maddix sucked in a breath, a vision of the souls trapped in the Dark witch’s robe rushing to the forefront of his mind.
“Put this back on,” the witch ordered, tossing him the white gem necklace. As soon as it touched Maddix’s skin the pain in his head vanished, taking the vision with it. He snuck a glance at her hands but there was no trace of Darkness left.
“What did you do to him?” Maddix gaped, rubbing the back of his hand against his forehead. The thing on the floor hardly looked human.
“He deserved it,” she said, not looking at the corpse as she retrieved her black duster from its discarded place in the corner. She clenched and unclenched her fist, and Maddix felt a rush of gratitude for the cuffs that bound them. However he died, he didn’t want to go out like Oskar.
“No one deserves that,” Maddix said. “A sword in the back would’ve been kinder.”
“I did not mean to be kind,” the witch said. Her shoulders slumped slightly, weighed down by some unseen load. “He was like me.”
“What?”
“He was sahir,” she said, rounding on him.
You animals even turn on each other. Hale’s voice echoed in his head. Fire burned emerald in her eyes and Maddix had to steel himself from backing away from her.
“A witch, capturing and selling his own people. To the sahirla to be killed for sport or rich dayri who want magical slaves or to Vandel or Kaddah to be taken apart. I did not mean to be kind. I hope he burns.”
He’d assumed Oskar was a bounty hunter, someone after Jayin for the reward. Not this. Nothing like this.
“He deserved it,” she repeated, her voice ragged. Maddix had a sudden, ridiculous impulse to lay a hand on her shoulder. He balled his fists by his sides, telling himself it wasn’t worth losing a finger.
“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested when he couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
The witch didn’t say a word, ducking her head so he couldn’t see her eyes. It was od
d to see the sun waiting for them outside after everything that had happened. It felt like it should have been the dead of night not early evening with the sky still a cheerful blue above them.
The witch followed him out of the shack, making a small noise of surprise when Maddix didn’t immediately walk away. Instead, he fished in his bag for a book of matches and offered them to her. She took them without a word, and within minutes, the dilapidated house was ablaze with Oskar’s corpse still inside. They stood and watched it burn for a long time, neither speaking until the girl spat on the ground. It was more blood than saliva.
“Jayin,” she said without expression.
“What?” Maddix said, his eyes still on the fire.
“My name is Jayin.” She stalked away from the burning building, a dark smudge against a backdrop of smoke and fire. Jayin. The name echoed in Maddix’s ears. It was too delicate for her, too soft to belong to this girl with her daggers and scars.
The palfrey wasn’t waiting where Maddix had left her, the reins bitten clean through. No doubt the animal had panicked when she saw the fire. He hoped she would find her way home and sent silent thanks down the road where her hoof prints led.
He and the witch—Jayin—walked without speaking to one another. Maddix found himself as half of a duo shrouded in tense silence, making their way to the next town as if this day had been just like all of the others. As if Jayin hadn’t been kidnapped by one of her own people intent on selling her to whoever could pay. As if she hadn’t just killed someone.
When he was young, Maddix entertained himself with notions of the glory of battle, of proving himself through the trials of war and blood. And then, as a greenblood Guard, he knew he would kill, and see his comrades kill. It was a part of the job, a part of life. Death was something he knew and understood.
But not like this. The way she killed was like nothing Maddix had ever seen. Again, he heard Hale’s voice hissing in the back of his mind. Unnatural. Evil. Dark. She had killed Oskar with little more than a gesture and sheer force of will.