After grabbing a corset, she padded over to the dressing divider on the opposing side of her room. It would do her no good to be vain in such tragic circumstances, but it was important to her that she looked as presentable as she could make herself. Even if no one else would care about her father, she would.
Kelia wanted to ask the Infant more about The Society’s role in her father’s death. He wanted a red ring. Where the hell was she going to find such a thing at headquarters? He insisted The Society had it, but would not explain it further. She could check the archives and perhaps the library. The Infant insisted there was nothing special or historical about it; it was something that had personal meaning to him.
Why The Society would take a mere trinket was beyond Kelia’s comprehension. Perhaps this was a farce. Perhaps there was no trinket and the Infant was wasting her precious time because it amused him. She was almost certain she would not succeed in finding it. Which meant her alliance with Drew Knight was still her best hope at solving her father’s murder.
She took in Jennifer’s makeup, the gift The Society sent her. She was almost tempted to use it, but refrained. Kelia had minimal makeup she only used when the situation called for it, and now was not such a time. She wanted to look presentable, but she didn’t want to detract focus from the purpose of the occasion.
She still hadn’t heard from the Sea Shadow. Granted, it had not even been a day, and he had promised she would hear from him within three. Her impatience was a weakness, but she did not understand why she needed to prove herself. Clearly, he did not trust her. But she had risked everything to meet him, and he had given her so little information in return. It was a colossal waste of time. The fact she went to him showed her desperate trust in him—that he would not take advantage of her, that he would not slaughter her, or slurp up her blood. Still, if that did nothing to show her faith in him, she did not know what would.
Why did she even care, anyway? It shouldn’t matter whether some Sea Shadow trusted her. She nearly threw up at the thought.
A groan temporarily relieved her thoughts, and her eyes shifted over to Jennifer.
“Jennifer?” Kelia asked slowly, tentatively. She did not want to wake her friend if she was still asleep, but she wanted to check on Jennifer’s status and see how she was feeling compared to how she was the previous night.
Another groan pierced the silent room as an answer.
Kelia paused, waiting for a sound, a noise, from her friend before slowly sliding on the corset, making sure it wasn’t too tight in the back. She taught herself how to do a decent job of lacing it up without anyone’s assistance when she was young, and she had turned into somewhat of an expert since then.
“Key?” a groggy voice asked. “Is that you?”
Kelia peeked her head around the divider. Jennifer’s face was smeared with yesterday’s makeup, her hair frizzy. Completely unlike herself.
Kelia straightened up and slid on her dress. “Are you all right?”
“Isn’t that my question to ask you?” Jennifer asked.
“Jen,” Kelia said. “You do not look like yourself. Take off your makeup. Wash your hair. Take the day.”
“But Rycroft—
“Rycroft is not going through whatever it is you’re going through,” Kelia said, running her hands down her skirts and smoothing out any wrinkles. “I know the sort of man he is. But his favorite place in this whole building is in that cushy office of his, with trinkets glittering all over the place. He was never a fighter. You aren’t going to be a Slayer in the spring, anyway. Why are you concerned with what he thinks?”
“You’re right,” Jennifer murmured after a moment of careful consideration.
Kelia’s lips curled into a small smile. “I know,” she said, coming around the divider.
“Oh, Kelia, this is all so tragic,” Jennifer said, struggling to sit up. She stifled a groan, reaching up to grab her head. There was clear pain distorting her pretty features. Kelia winced.
“I’ll be fine,” Kelia promised. “Why don’t you head down to the bathing rooms, take off your makeup, and have a soak?”
“I wanted to be with you today.” Jennifer opened an eye and peered over at Kelia. “You need me.”
“I don’t need—”
“Everyone needs someone,” Jennifer pointed out. “I’m not here to tell you you’re incapable of saving yourself. I’m just—” Her voice caught in her throat as another surge of pain danced on her skin. “I’m just trying to tell you that you don’t have to do this alone.”
A genuine smile touched Kelia’s lips. “Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate that. However, I will not have you ruin this moment for me because I’m worrying more about you than I am about me. I would prefer it if you chose to take care of yourself first, and then you can be there for me later. When you are up for it. Because right now, you are most certainly not up for it.” She skimmed Jennifer’s face. “And for the love of all that is holy, please take off your makeup. You look haggard. I’ll bring you a washcloth.”
Jennifer chuckled, and Kelia nearly beamed. At the very least, she still had her sense of humor.
Kelia made her way to the commode. She tried not to think about what life was like for the Sightless, but every time she saw a full water basin, it was a reminder of their lives as barely more than slaves.
The Sightless were to be treated as less than nothing to punish them for their actions. They were not to be acknowledged, which was why they did their menial tasks in isolation.
Shaking free of her thoughts, Kelia dipped a washcloth into the water and wrung it out before making her way back to Jennifer. She stopped beside the bed.
“I'm so tired, Key.” Jennifer yawned, a loud, obnoxious sound that was completely unladylike and uncharacteristic for her.
“It’s probably your makeup.” Kelia took a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Wearing makeup all day exhausts me.”
“True,” Jennifer murmured. “But I can hardly keep my eyes open. I’m too tired to do it.”
Under normal circumstances, Kelia would have called her a princess and ignored her. This time, however, Kelia slid her eyes over to her friend. “I can do it for you,” she offered.
“I can’t ask you to do this.” Jennifer snuggled deeper into her bed.
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” She held up the wet cloth to show her friend. “I’ll hear no argument on the subject.”
“Key,” Jennifer croaked. “You really need to go. They aren’t going to wait for you. You know that.”
Kelia lowered the cloth, making sure not to get her dress wet. Her eyes flickered to the open window. There was a slight breeze, but the sky was blue. The clouds were gone, almost as though they had vanished, and the sun was shining down despite the bitter cold. She loved this type of weather. It was perfect for studying, perfect for fighting. Not too hot, not too cold.
“But what of you?” Kelia asked, arching an eyebrow. “Will you be all right?”
“I’m certain I will be,” Jennifer murmured. “After I wash up, I bet I’ll feel much better.”
“When I come back, I will assist you to the bathing room,” Kelia told her, her tone no-nonsense. “A warm bath will make you feel much better.”
“Good luck,” Jennifer managed to get out. After reaching out for the damp rag Kelia offered, she began listlessly running it over her face. “With everything. If I wasn’t…” She let her voice trail off. Though her eyes were tired and there were dark circles underneath them, they were sincere. “I wish I could be there for you.”
“I know,” Kelia said.
After leaving her friend, she headed down the hall. She had never noticed before how people treated her, especially since she did not have many acquaintances and barely considered the opposite sex. Jennifer always told her enough about boys for them both, anyway. But now, as she trudged down the hall, she watched as the other girls glanced at her before quickly averting their eyes. The whispers grew as Kelia con
tinued. She could guess what they were saying.
She wanted to yell at them. Wanted to tell them not to feel sorry for her. Instead, she continued to proceed forward, her head held high.
Everyone moved out of her way. No one spoke to her. It was as though she was a wraith people both feared and were in awe of, and the slightest touch, the slightest acknowledgment, was not something they could handle.
After leaving through the back, she stopped at the edge of a dock, her eyes on a long, plain boat. She could not see her father’s body save for his telltale auburn hair, which gleamed in the sunlight. Kelia’s heart clenched, but she would not cry. Not here. Not in front of these people. And possibly not at all.
Kelia did not think she could cry if she wanted to.
“I’m surprised you did not push regarding your father’s body,” a voice said from beside her.
Kelia glanced up and found Ashton Rycroft standing next to her, gazing in the same direction. “The board just felt the body was too brutally mutilated for a girl of your countenance to see,” he said. “At least this way—” He nodded toward the boat a couple of Slayers were getting ready to burn “—you’ll be able to remember him exactly as he was.”
Kelia clenched her teeth so hard her jaw popped. She thought to call them out on the unlikelihood that her father had “brutally mutilated” himself before committing suicide, but she thought it better not to say anything that would reveal her distrust. Instead, she said, “Yet they sent me to acquire a rabid Infant?”
She probably should not have said that, but she couldn’t help it. She had been biting her tongue and holding back her questions regarding her father’s death even though she knew he was murdered. She let things go, little comments she overheard from fellow Slayers about how weak her father was, but she would not hold back right now.
“I suppose now is as good as ever to learn that life will not treat you fairly,” Rycroft said, no sympathy in his voice. “You’ve had a tragic life, Ms. Starling. Best not make the same mistakes your parents did.”
Kelia opened her mouth, ready to question what the hell that meant, but Rycroft was already walking away.
She let out a huff before turning her attention back to the boat. One of the Slayers dropped a lit torch on it, immediately sending it up in flames. The other pushed the boat away from the docks, toward the sea.
Kelia shifted her weight, simply watching. Normally, a priest commented something religious and managed to relate it to the deceased’s life. Kelia had no such talent. Her eyes caught the flickering embers, and all she could think of was that her father would have preferred it this way.
He did not like big crowds, and while he served The Society fiercely and loyally, there were many people here he did not like. The only person he cared for was Kelia, so it was fitting only Kelia would be present at his funeral.
Was it wrong that Kelia was angry? As she watched the fire dance on the water—what a thing to behold—she felt her brow furrow and her bottom lip get tucked underneath the bottom of her teeth. She did not know what kind of work he had gotten himself into, but Kelia was certain it was the cause of his death. Why else would Drew Knight tell her to investigate it? What could have possibly been so important that he risked his time with Kelia?
And now she was alone, trying to solve his death with a Sea Shadow and an Infant. These were her acquaintances. That, and Jennifer, her roommate who wore wedding makeup long before her wedding and who got unexpectedly sick and threw up out of their bedroom window.
“…Nassau?”
A voice caused Kelia to pause. She tilted her head in a subtle gesture to listen to the two Slayers who had set her father’s body on fire as they strolled down the docks. Immediately, she sprung behind a thick tree so she would not be seen.
“I’ve never heard of such a mission,” the second man said. “Then again, I was surprised when they dispatched the Starling girl to capture that Infant. Why not send someone more experienced?”
“Why go to Nassau for a feeding shipment?” the first one asked. “We don’t question The Society, Bruce. We keep our heads down and do our job. You know how they are. They have their reasons.”
“I understand that,” the second one said. “But we can get feeding supplies closer to Port George. Why go all the way to Nassau? That’s half a day’s sail, at least. And these Slayers can’t steer a ship, even if it means saving their life.”
Kelia felt herself breathe once they had passed and she could no longer hear them. A feeding supply? What did that mean? They typically got their food from Port George. There was a supply shop close to the public docks, and they gave The Society a discount for their protection and their large orders. Going to Nassau for supplies made no sense. She couldn’t go to Rycroft and ask about it. Though the two Slayers were speaking openly, it almost sounded as though they were discussing a classified mission. Which meant she wouldn’t be able to find out anything about it.
Her eyes flickered back over to her father. In an hour or two, he would be nothing but ash.
She almost smiled. He would have preferred that as well.
Kelia tilted her head to the side, trying to figure out if this feeding mission was worth pursuing. It could be completely unrelated to her father’s death. It probably was. But something said it was strange. Something said she needed to figure out what they were doing.
Unfortunately, if she wanted any information on a classified mission regarding feeding, Kelia would have to ignore Drew’s seventy-two-hour rule and risk meeting with him sooner than originally planned.
Chapter 10
Kelia was starting to become an expert in creative ways to sneak out of the fortress. She was grateful the sky was clear and the rain was temporarily kept at bay. She had not struggled to find her way back to Drew’s ship. After leaving the fortress, she thought she might. She did not have Emma there to guide her the way she had before. Instead, she was completely on her own, relying on her memory. However, with more concentration and sharp eyes, she managed to get herself back to Drew’s massive ship. It was almost as if he had been expecting her because the rowboat was rooted to the sand.
Kelia took the boat and pushed it into the water. The worst part about the travel was rowing to the ship. It worked muscles she did not realize she had, so by the time she finally reached port side, her arms were deadweights, anchors ready to be cast to sea. The fact that she had to meet him on the open water did nothing for her seasickness, but she was not about to let Drew Knight know her weakness.
Kelia knew she was in trouble when she met Drew Knight on his ship the next evening and his lips curled into a feral smile. She could not help but feel drawn to the smile, could not help but stare at it longer than necessary. It softened the hard edges of his handsome face, his dark eyes promising wicked things she might actually enjoy. Which she did not think was possible.
Drew stood at the helm, his overcoat gone. He had a rudder in his hand, leaning on his left foot. His posture was entirely casual, almost indifferent. She hated to admit it, but he was beautiful. His short hair was slicked back, bringing out his sharp cheekbones and strong jawline. His dark eyes stayed on her, intense and fixed, as if he could see through her, to her very core. It made her shift with discomfort; he made her feel vulnerable, and all he was doing was looking at her.
His loose white tunic, tucked into his breeches, pressed against his body under a light breeze, with black boots that reached his knees. He looked every bit the pirate rogue he was, but the press of the material and the way he carried himself made him appear almost as though he were a gentleman.
A gentleman with ill-intentions.
It was still odd Drew Knight did not attack or seduce her. That he treated her like a person and not a meal. She had only exchanged a few words with him, but she had already begun to understand the lure felt by the Sightless. Even more, she began to question everything The Society had taught her.
“I told you seventy-two hours, and it has barely been twenty-
four,” he commented, pushing off the helm and striding over to her. He placed his hands behind his back, raising a sardonic brow. “Miss me already?”
His movements caused Kelia’s eyes to drop to his waist. Immediately, she blushed, jerking her gaze back to his face. “Why don’t you wear a weapon?” she asked him, ignoring the jest.
The question seemed to throw him off, and he glanced down as if searching for clarification. “I’m sorry?”
“You have no weapon,” Kelia pointed out.
“I have a weapon,” Drew said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Do you not realize you have the same weapons as well?”
“Weapons?” Kelia asked. She touched the hilt of her trusted blade at her side, as if to ensure it was still within arm’s reach. Just in case. “As in plural?”
“For a Slayer, you are not terribly intelligent, are you?”
Kelia clenched her jaw, trying to curb her quick temper. She took a deep breath before shooting him a glare.
“There,” he said, pointing at Kelia’s face. “You have a range of emotion littering your face.” He chuckled. “You’re easier to read than a book.” He grinned, flashing her another one of his brilliant smiles. She hated his stupid smile. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?”
Kelia bristled. She absolutely detested knowing that she was here because she needed his assistance. And, more than anything, he knew she needed him or else she wouldn’t be here.
“I found out some information,” she murmured, crossing her arms over her chest. The slight breeze lifted the hair from her shoulders, sending a smattering of goose bumps along her bare skin. “And I feel that you would be able to assist me in what to do with it.”
Drew’s smirk deepened. “Do share, darling.”
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes shining. It was hard to concentrate when he smiled that way. Kelia had known he was beautiful, almost dangerously so, but when he was directly in front of her, cocking a smile like it was a weapon and shooting it in her direction, she was completely powerless. And she hated it. She was never powerless in any situation.
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