I set my pen down.
“Why are you stopping?” Jase asked.
I chewed on my nail as if thinking it over. “Before I finish and sign, I do have one simple condition of my own.”
Jase’s chest rose in a deep breath. He knew it would be anything but simple. “And that would be?”
“No conditions,” Titus argued.
Gunner’s eyes bulged. “Is she blackmailing us?”
Mason huffed out a disbelieving growl. “I think that’s exactly what she’s doing.”
“Only because you choose to read it that way,” I said and smiled. “I prefer to call it payment for services rendered. A simple business transaction. You Ballengers understand that, don’t you?”
Jase’s voice turned flat and to the point. “What do you want?”
“Reparations,” I answered. “I want everything that was stolen from the Vendan settlement restored—with interest—and all their destroyed structures, pens, and fences rebuilt.”
Tempers exploded. A host of angry objections whirled between them. Jase jumped to his feet. “Are you out of your mind? Haven’t you gotten the message? We want them to leave.”
“It is their right to be there. Venda has gone to great expense and effort in establishing this settlement, and the King of Eislandia specifically approved the site.”
Jase growled. “The king who doesn’t know Hell’s Mouth from his own ass?”
I shrugged. “No reparations. No letter.”
“No!” Jase went off on a rant, walking around the room, his hands waving, punching the air, reiterating that his family hadn’t destroyed anything and helping the Vendans would be the same as posting a welcome sign for anyone to come and take what they wanted. All of his objections were punctuated and reinforced by the others. They fed off each other like a pack of jackals. “They are half the cause of our troubles in the first place! You let one encroach on your territory, and then everyone thinks you’re weak and they want a piece too!”
I sighed. “They are seven families. Twenty-five people. It’s not even land that you use. Are the Ballengers so very small that a few families are a big threat? Can you not see them as an asset instead? A way to grow your dynasty?”
They looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.
I leaned back, crossing my arms. “Those are my terms.”
Angry glances bounced between them, but no words. I watched their frustration mount, jaws growing rigid, nostrils flaring, chests rising with furious indignation. The silence ticked.
“We’ll move them,” Jase finally said. “And rebuild in another location.”
A heated chorus of grunts erupted. The others objected to this concession.
“But it has to be fair and equitable,” I answered, “water, good land, and still within a day’s ride of Hell’s Mouth.”
“It will be.”
“I have one other stipulation.”
Gunner’s hands flew into the air. “Can I wring her neck right now?”
“The Ballengers must do the work,” I said. “Specifically, the Patrei. You, Jase. You personally must physically help rebuild their settlement. It shouldn’t take long. A few weeks at most. They had so very little to begin with. I will stay on here—of my own free will—to make sure the work is done, and you will remove the guards at my door, so I will be a true guest, just as your letter so poorly tried to imply.”
Jase’s hands curled into fists. His gaze was deadly. “Sign the letter.”
“Does this mean we have an agreement?”
His chin dipped in a stiff affirmation.
Titus groaned.
A hiss burned through Gunner’s teeth.
Mason shook his head.
“Sign it,” Jase repeated and pushed the letter back in front of me.
I looked at him, knowing I had chipped away a large piece of the Ballenger pride, but knowing something else about Jase, too—or hoping I did. I saw it when he whispered stories to me late into the night, when he pressed a wish stalk to my blistered foot. I saw it when he held Nash in his arms then wiped away his tears.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I dipped my pen back into the inkwell and signed with flourish.
All is going well. In fact, after an unfortunate fire that destroyed some settlement structures, the Ballengers have generously agreed to rebuild them on a new site that will be even more productive. I know you’ve been busy with travel but I hope this news will hasten your arrival here. Please bring golden thannis as a gift of goodwill—our kind hosts deserve this honor. We look forward to seeing you soon.
Your ever faithful servant,
Kazi of Brightmist
Jase picked up the letter and examined it, looking for some sort of betrayal. “Thannis?” he asked.
“The thorny vine you saw embossed on my vest that the hunters took. It’s on the Vendan shield too. It’s a wild plant that’s native to our land—we take great pride in it. It’s our traditional gift we give to all visitors—unless, of course, you think a weed is beneath you?”
“I remember seeing it on her vest,” Titus said.
“A goodwill gift is fine,” Gunner interjected.
Jase nodded. “We’ll be sure to have a nice gift for her too.”
* * *
With the letter signed, I was returned to my room. Drake and Tiago escorted me to my door but then left, as per my agreement with Jase. When I went inside, I found a small bowl of fruit on the dressing table. Oranges. Three perfect oranges.
Had he already known I would sign the letter? Was this his thank-you?
I picked one up, my fingernail drawing a spray across its skin, and held it to my nose, breathing in its magic.
Or maybe this was the thank-you I never got for giving him the ring?
No, I thought as I peeled it.
This was just Jase remembering I loved oranges.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JASE
Even with both windows open, the air was hot, still, as if the world had stopped breathing. My back was damp against the sheets. It seemed impossible that only this morning when I woke I was lying on a bed of grass with Kazi nestled against my chest, a chain still connecting us.
It was well after midnight and I should have been passed out in my bed with exhaustion by now, but instead I tossed and turned and paced—in one of the guest rooms. Oleez had been afraid to tell me. I was finally back at Tor’s Watch and shut out of my own room.
I could have easily had Kazi moved, but there were other battles ahead and this one wasn’t worth fighting—and strangely, some part of me liked the idea of her being in my room. I wasn’t sure why. This room was larger, more comfortable, meant to impress guests, and I knew by now she had probably explored every thing in my room. What did she think? Had she gone through my books searching for the stories I shared with her? Rummaged through my clothes? The forgotten clutter in the bottom of my wardrobe? There were three knives that I could remember. I suspected she already had one on her. I wasn’t worried. Had she taken another bath? I saw the revulsion in her face when Titus threw the ears on the table. After she left, I grabbed him by the collar and threw him up against the wall. Don’t ever do that again, I had told him. We may have dirty work to do, but everyone doesn’t need to see it. Especially not her. I had seen her expression—the fear—when she thought I had harmed her friends. Killed them. The terror in her eyes had whittled through me like a dull knife. She had seen something in my face, maybe all of our faces. She knew death when she saw it.
The harm I actually did do hadn’t been hard for me, and I would do it again.
Foley had come to tell me what had happened.
When Mason, Gunner, Titus, and I walked into the warehouse, Lothar and Rancell already had them on their knees. Tiago and Drake hovered nearby.
“We spotted their wagon in an alley,” Rancell said. “When we lifted the tarp we saw the brewer’s boy gagged and chained. The other chains were still empty. They hadn’t gotten the rest of the
ir cargo yet.”
I stepped closer to the three men. Two of them began crying, begging for mercy. The third said nothing, but sweat beaded on his forehead. They were a more ragged crew than the ones who had taken Kazi and me. Their tattered clothing was ripe with stench, their knuckles creased with filth, but their story was the same. They’d been paid up front, but they didn’t know by whom. The fellow who approached them with a fat purse wore a wide-brimmed hat pulled low, and they weren’t even sure what color his hair was.
“Which of you took the money?” I asked.
“He did,” the two sniveling ones cried.
I looked at the silent one, his sweat the only indication he knew the gravity of his situation. My hatred for him rose to a different level. It was personal. The brewer’s boy was fourteen.
“So you’re in charge?”
He nodded.
“Have you done this before?”
“Not here. Other places. It’s good money. But he said it had to be Hell’s Mouth and—”
“You know whose town this is?” I asked.
He swallowed, his expression suddenly crackling with eagerness. “I’ll give you a cut,” he said. “We can make a deal. Half. You want half? Half for doing nothing.”
“You know what would have happened to the boy you grabbed?”
“A mine. He would have worked in a mine. That’s all. Good hard work.”
There was nothing good about dying in a mine. Nothing good about being shackled and hauled in the back of a wagon against your will. He couldn’t conceive that the brewer’s boy had a life, a future. He only saw him as an article of profit. I drew my knife.
“All. You can have it all,” he pleaded. “The money’s in my vest. Take it.”
“All of it?” I stepped closer and knelt so we were eye to eye. “That’s quite a deal you’re offering, but I’m in a hurry, so here’s a better one. I’ll kill you quickly instead of letting my dogs tear you to pieces—which is what you deserve.” I wasn’t sure the words had even registered before I plunged my knife into his throat. Blood sprayed my shirt and face, and he was dead before I had pulled my knife free.
I stood and my attention turned to the other two. They began wailing, trying to back away on their knees, but Mason and Titus stood behind them, preventing them from going anywhere.
“Want me to do those two?” Tiago asked.
I walked over, as if studying them. “Maybe not,” I said. “Maybe they’d be more useful to us as messengers. Would you two rather be dead or deliver a message?”
“A message!” they both agreed. “Please, any message! We’ll deliver it.”
I motioned to Mason and Titus. They jerked their heads back by their hair and in a swift second, an ear from each man was on the ground in front of them. Their screams bounced off the walls of the warehouse, but when I told them to shut up, they did. They had already witnessed what else could happen to them.
“Better. Now here’s the message. You go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and you let everyone get a good long look at your ears, and you let them know who did it—the Ballengers—and you tell them that this is the kind of trouble they’ll find in Hell’s Mouth, and no amount of money that anyone offers them is worth it. The citizens of this city are off-limits. And if I ever see either of you here again, even for a sip of water, we’ll be cutting off something much more valuable to you than your ears. My word is good. You can count on it. Understand?”
They both nodded.
“Good. Our business is done, then.”
I looked at Lothar and Rancell. “Get them bandaged up. I don’t want them bleeding out before they deliver our message.”
It was on our way back to the main house that Gunner said it was time for other messages to be sent too, the one my whole family was pushing for, and now I finally agreed. We had nothing to lose. Or so I thought.
I still couldn’t quite believe that to make good on my promise to my father, I had also agreed to rebuild a Vendan settlement. If the gods had carried that news to his ears, he was probably beating on his tomb walls, demanding to be let out, demanding to name someone else as Patrei.
I rolled out of bed and went to the window. It was dark, the work yard below quiet, a dim bluish light in the gate tower the only sign that anyone was awake, and then I saw a shadow moving through the blackness. Or I thought I did. It was just as quickly gone. Maybe one of the dogs patrolling. Barking erupted but quickly quieted again. Yes, only the dogs.
I stepped away from the window, paced, and wondered if she was having as hard a time sleeping as I was. I remembered her face when I came to her chamber, at first soft, happy to see me, but then it turned sharp.
What do you want, Jase?
I knew what I wanted.
She did too.
* * *
My hand hovered as I debated whether I should knock. It was late. The middle of the night. If she was asleep, I would wake her.
She’s not asleep. I knew it was impossible, but I sensed it. I could feel her eyes open, scanning the walls, pulling the drapes shut, opening them again, watchful, unable to rest, needing a story, a riddle, something to ease her into a dreamworld. I rested my hand against the door wanting to go in, knowing I shouldn’t.
What is this, Kazi?
What do you feel?
She couldn’t answer me before when I had asked. Or she wouldn’t. Maybe it was best not to know. Her loyalties were clear.
And so were mine.
I pushed away from the door and walked back to my room.
* * *
Candles glowed in red glass globes in the apse of the temple, and the heavy scent of amber hung in the air. I was the only one inside. The priests were asleep in the manse. They would find my offering in the morning. I took out my knife and nicked my thumb, squeezed it, letting the blood drip onto the plate of coins below me. A coin for every child in the city. This is only between you and the gods, Jase. Not the priests. Nor anyone else. This is your promise to protect them with your blood, just as Aaron gave with his blood to save the Remnant. Gold pleases men, but blood serves the gods, because in the end, your life is all you have to give.
The drops of blood trickled down the pile of coins and they shifted, a bare clink, echoing through the silent temple. My father’s last desperate words were ones he had heard from his own father, words every Patrei heard. I had read them in the histories and transcribed them at an early age.
The candlelight caught the glint of my gold ring. I gave it to you when it mattered. She had stepped forward willingly and helped me, and instead of thanking her, I questioned why she hadn’t given it to me sooner. Everything was more complicated now, even something as simple as gratitude.
Footsteps scuffled behind me. “You ready?”
Mason had caught me on my way out and insisted on coming with me. You lost your mind? Leaving without straza? And then he laughed. Let’s go.
He walked down the center aisle toward me and whispered, “The town will be waking soon. We should go while it’s still dark.”
We left, the streets silent, the roads dark. Halfway home he asked about Kazi. “How did you two end up being…”
He knew something had happened between us, but he stumbled with the rest of his question, as if he didn’t know how to craft it—as if he was still not quite believing it himself. He had seen her slam me up against the wall, threaten to cut me. He hadn’t taken it any better than I had.
“It was different out there,” I said. “She was different. So was I.”
“What about now?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve never seen you like this. I know you’re not asking for advice, but I’m offering it anyway. She might have been nice to curl up with out there, but back here she’s not someone you want to get tangled up with. She can’t be trusted.”
I hated to hear him say it, but it was true. Kazi had secrets. She performed a skillful dance around everything we said. Last night I had seen genuine fear
in her eyes when she thought I had hurt her friends, but then I saw how she played us too, the fear dissolving and being replaced by something skilled and calculating. It was the same look I had seen in her face when she had studied the driver, like in her head she was constructing something solid, stone by stone. Her shrewdness managed to get reparations we didn’t owe out of the deal. Even with her letter we had no guarantee the queen would come, but there was hope and that was a short-term bandage we needed. I’d use it to my advantage for now. Soon we wouldn’t need anyone tossing us crumbs of respect. Soon we’d have a greater share of trade on the continent, and it would be the kingdoms begging for a place at the table with the Ballengers.
We reached Tor’s Watch, but before Mason left to go back to his room and catch what little sleep was left of the dark morning hours, I said, “Tomorrow when we go into town, pull Garvin from tower security and put him on her watch. She doesn’t know him, and he melts into the background. Add Yursan as a decoy too.”
Mason’s brows rose. A decoy tail, especially for someone like Garvin who was good at what he did, was a grand admission of my doubts.
I hoped Mason was wrong. I hoped I was wrong. Because I was still tangled up with her and I didn’t want to be cut loose.
Miandre is our storyteller. She tells us stories of before.
It was a world of princesses and monsters, and castles and courage. She learned the stories from her friend’s mother. Someday I will tell the stories too, but my stories will be about different monsters, the ones that visit us every day.
—Gina, 8
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
KAZI
Books were piled on the bed around me, ghosts peeking from their pages, a whisper here, there … Hold on no matter what you have to do. The Ballenger ghosts sounded as desperate as those I had known. Survive, no matter who you have to kill. Maybe more desperate.
I spent a good portion of the night reading the books from Jase’s shelves. After thumbing through several, I realized that nearly all of them were handwritten—and most by Jase. Some of the first books on the top shelf were in a more childish scrawl. It seemed to be a part of his schooling, having to record the family history and stories in his own hand. Maybe that was another reason he knew it so well. Many of the histories were curious, not long stories but hundreds, maybe thousands of short journal entries, some of them bare sentences, beginning with the first one from Greyson Ballenger: Write it down, write down every word once you get there, before the truth is forgotten.
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