The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus

by Bethany Hoeflich

  “Excellent.” He whistled between his teeth and the assassin detached from the wall with fluid grace. His face was fully covered save for a small slit in the fabric that revealed his eyes. He pinned her with an icy glare, and Mara shrank back. She’d thought that no one could move as smoothly as Mikkal, but she was wrong. Darby was liquid in motion, flowing across the floor like a river. Suddenly, she was having serious doubts about following him anywhere.

  He pulled a vial from his belt and smashed it on the floor. A thick cloud of smoke billowed out and enveloped their corner of the room, shielding them from sight. Mara’s throat constricted, and she doubled over coughing. She blinked as the smoke burned her eyes. Darby yanked back a tapestry from the wall to reveal a hidden passageway burrowed into the rock. She couldn’t tell if it was a few feet deep or if it went on for miles.

  She ducked into the crawl space after Darby, and Betsy’s disembodied voice chased after her. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Mara shivered. She couldn’t help but feel like she had made a mistake. But what choice did she have? It wasn’t like she could stand in the corner and ask the guards nicely to let her go—oh, and please don’t tell the emperor that you found me in a super duper illegal underground market, thanks—and that was on the off chance that she wasn’t eaten by a wild animal first.

  With the light fading the further they crept through the tunnel, Mara had to squint to make out Darby. He blended in with the shadows like he was born there. Not even a flash of fabric would give away his position. She tilted her head, listening for the scuff of boots on dirt or his breathing, but he embodied silence so completely it was like following air. An occasional brush of cobwebs against her hair had her itching her scalp, convinced something was crawling in her hair.

  They had to be far enough from the market by now. Where was the exit? “Darby?”

  No response.

  “Darby? How much further?” She hugged the parcel to her chest. He couldn’t have disappeared, not truly. But where could he have gone? She had thought the tunnel was a straight passage with no offshoots, but in the darkness, how would she have known? He could have slipped off to the side as she passed and . . . what? Gone back the way he came? Trapped her in here and alerted the guards? Or maybe he was watching her struggle and having a nice laugh at her expense.

  Mara chewed the inside of her cheek and her stride faltered. Was she being too cynical? It’s possible that they still weren’t safe, and he was keeping silent to protect them. Then again, he was an assassin, and she had been betrayed before. If anything, she had been too trusting.

  Her pace quickened. If she kept walking in a straight line, she would eventually come to a door, right? Get out without getting caught. Get back to the palace. Give Ethan the ingredients. And figure out how to back out of the deal with Betsy without dying in the process.

  She was so focused on her task that she missed the figure step out from the shadows until it loomed over her.

  She screamed.

  “Are you always this uptight?” Darby growled.

  Mara lit a ball of light in her hand and held it up to illuminate the passage. He made to bat it away, but she jumped back out of reach. His hands were empty, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pull a weapon in a heartbeat. He crossed his arms and stepped back while she assessed him. He was shorter than she’d thought, maybe only an inch or two taller than her, but he had an air of danger around him that sent her knees shaking. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t see his expressions. Did he cover his face for anonymity, or did he enjoy the way it set everyone on edge?

  “Where were you?”

  “Scouting ahead to make sure the path is clear. It wouldn’t make much sense to lead you here, only to get caught at the exit.”

  Leading was a bit of an exaggeration considering he’d left her to stumble blindly in the dark, but she let it go. “And?”

  “Safe. This tunnel backs onto a quiet alley. Your Shield is two blocks that way.” He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder.

  “He’s not my Shield, he’s—” Mara’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know he’s with me? How long have you been spying on me?”

  If he were offended by her choice of words, he didn’t show it. “Long enough to know that I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley, escorting the woman he’s supposed to protect. Death clings to him like an old friend.” He shuddered.

  That pulled her up short. They were talking about the same person, right? Mikkal with his dry sense of humor and steadfast spirit. When she’d first met him, Mikkal was Shield for Steel, the crown prince of Crystalmoor. He’d seemed aloof and preoccupied with keeping Steel safe. Then in Tregydar, Mikkal had confessed to taking money from the Miestryri to assassinate Steel in order to save his niece’s life. He didn’t go through with it, but Steel had exiled him. Later, Mara had found him in Merrowhaven, and they’d become close friends since. She didn’t feel anything but safe in his presence. It was hard to picture him through Darby’s eyes.

  “So . . . what now?”

  “Now, you walk through that door, find your Shield, and stay away from the markets.”

  “What? But I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. It’s too dangerous for the likes of you.” Darby’s voice was hard enough to cut through rock. He reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “It will be three weeks at least before the market is back in business anyway. Come to this address next time and come alone. My father knows your order by now. And he knows what you’re making.”

  Mara’s head snapped up.

  “Just remember that when you’re dreaming up ways to back out of his deal.” Darby brushed passed her and disappeared down the tunnel.

  She couldn’t breathe. Shaking, she leaned against the wall of the tunnel, crushing the paper in her hands. Two more people knew her secret. But . . . just because Betsy knew what she was making . . . it didn’t mean he knew what she was doing with it. Right? Even if they went to the emperor, Ethan could always claim that he was brewing the Soperallias elixir for the Order. As a Magi, he could claim to have foreseen a spike in the number of births and decided to prepare for it.

  A flimsy excuse and she knew it.

  It would only take a brief observation to connect the massive quantities of elixir to the sharp decline in the dreg population.

  Five minutes later, she found Mikkal pacing outside an apothecary that had seen better days. He looked her up and down. Whatever expression she wore made his face drop. “What happened?”

  What hadn’t happened would be an easier question to answer. Just how much should she reveal? It wasn’t like she could tell him that an assassin and his father roped her into a shady favor and were blackmailing her to keep it. Mikkal’s protectiveness could be overbearing at times, and he would likely lock her in the palace for the foreseeable future.

  She let out a breath. “There was a raid.”

  “Did anyone see you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. One of the vendors helped me escape before they spotted me.”

  He nodded, but she could see him calculating the risk of letting her go in the future. “Maybe it’s time you let someone else handle this.”

  Her heart sank. “I need to do something. Besides, it will be a few weeks before they find a new location for the market.”

  They stepped out onto the main road leading out of Merrowhaven. She looked automatically toward the gate. Mikkal followed her line of sight and asked, “Would you like to go visit Evelyn now?”

  More than anything. The blind woman had been Ruby’s best friend. Now, she had taken charge of the dreg encampment, serving as their unofficial leader. If anyone could ease her spirits right now, it was Evelyn. The package was a lead weight in her arms as she shifted it to the side and reached into her pocket for the vial she knew was empty. “How much elixir do you have left?”

  Ethan had developed an elixir that would mask their movements from Cadmus, making it impossible
for the Magi to Read her plans, but it didn’t last long. Even for short trips, a single dose wasn’t enough. Ethan was working to improve the formula, but progress was slow. He had gotten it to thirty-two minutes now, but it wasn’t long enough. As a result, Mara had taken to carrying a bottle of the elixir with her anytime she left the palace. If there was one thing she wanted to keep hidden from Cadmus, it was the fact that she was building an army to fight him.

  Mikkal pulled a vial from his tunic. The green liquid shone faintly in the streetlight. There was only a mouthful left for each.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Not enough.”

  “I’m sorry, Mara. I should have realized.”

  “It’s no bother. They can manage for a few days. Let’s just get this back to Ethan so I have something to show for it.”

  He nodded. “Meet me in the training yard in an hour.”

  She’d hoped he’d forgotten.

  ***

  Mara paused in the doorway of the alchemy room. Ethan leaned over a burner, carefully mixing the contents of a pot. He hummed softly under his breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead but his eyes were bright and a small smile played on his lips. He was so absorbed in his task that he didn’t see her standing there watching him. Her eyes ran down the sharp planes of his face, taking in his long, black hair pulled back in a leather tie. He had rolled up the sleeves of his black Magi robes—a sign of his disgrace in the Order, but he wore them with pride—revealing the lean muscle of his arms.

  Only a few weeks ago, he had kissed her in this very room. She lifted her fingers to her lips, remembering the feeling of his mouth moving against hers. The sweet taste of mint on his tongue. How perfectly she’d fit into his arms. How, for a moment, it had felt like home.

  Then she’d pushed him away. Nothing could happen between them. She was betrothed—however unwillingly—to Isaac, the crown prince of Esterwyn. If she were free, things might have been different. Maybe they would have had a shot. But she was engaged. Growing up in Stonehollow, marriages were arranged by the elders. This was no different. She’d always wanted to have a family of her own but as a dreg, that dream was as ridiculous as a rabbit sprouting wings and flying. She never expected to love her husband, not at first, but shouldn’t she feel something at least? But try as she might, she couldn’t summon the barest hint of emotion when she thought about marrying Isaac. She went through the motions as the empress and her entourage planned the celebration, smiling and nodding when it was expected of her while she died a little more on the inside. Oh, he was sweet and kind and nice enough to look at, but there was no passion between them. It was like trying to start a fire with sodden tinder.

  But Ethan . . .

  She shuttered that line of thought. Being engaged to Isaac meant she could help thousands of dregs. She could offer them Gifts and better lives. And maybe, just maybe, she could destroy the organization that oppressed them. Wasn’t that worth sacrificing her happiness?

  The fact that her heart stuttered when she looked at Ethan meant nothing. It couldn’t mean anything.

  Now, things had become awkward. She’d embarrassed him by running away and denying their attraction, but giving into it would only lead to hurt feelings in the long run. At least, that’s what she told herself when it felt like her heart was caving in.

  Not wanting to disturb him, Mara tip-toed inside and set the basket of ingredients on the nearest table. Ethan was too absorbed in his task to notice her. She held her breath, hoping to get in and out without his notice. As she turned to leave, her foot connected with a stool, causing it to tip over and crash to the floor. She caught herself on the nearest table and froze.

  Ethan jumped, dropping his spoon into the pot, and looked up in surprise. “Mara! I wasn’t expecting you so soon. I take it everything went well at the market?” he said, putting an emphasis on ‘market.’ She threw him a sharp look. While anyone passing by might assume she had gone to the ordinary market in the middle ring, she didn’t want to risk the emperor digging further and warning Cadmus of their intentions.

  Not when they were so close.

  “It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just your normal, everyday shopping trip.” She forced a laugh and swung her arms awkwardly, wishing she could disappear beneath the floorboards. Why did he fluster her so much? It was just Ethan.

  His brows furrowed, and she knew he could detect her lie. His eyes traveled along her body, darkening at the bruises on her arm from Betsy’s iron grip, before stopping on her hair. Had she missed some cobwebs in her hasty attempt to look presentable? Self-consciously, she smoothed a hand down the strands.

  Before he could comment, she gestured to the pot. “How are things going here?”

  His face brightened. “Excellent! I’ve discovered a method of distilling xenolyte root and binding it with the rhythlas extract. When heated slowly over low heat, the molecular bonds break down, enabling new bonds to form. This will stabilize the solution and—” he broke off, his smile wavering. “You don’t understand a word I just said, do you?”

  “What gave it away?”

  “The slightly glazed-over look in your eyes, mostly,” he teased, and Mara’s stomach flip-flopped.

  “In my defense, we didn’t have advanced alchemy classes in . . .” Her heart clenched painfully. “Back home.”

  Ethan’s eyes softened, and he gave her a sympathetic look that bordered on pain. “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. Even though Ethan had nothing to do with Cadmus’s plans, he still felt responsible. Mara wondered if that’s why he spent so much time helping her. If it was some way for him to make up for his father’s evil. “So, how did you learn so much?”

  “Would you believe that I’m naturally gifted in alchemy?”

  She made a show of tilting her head and pursing her lips as if she were thinking it over. “Nope. No one gets two Gifts. That’s too many special things for a single person.”

  “The alchemy room was my retreat. My safe space. Growing up, I didn’t like using my Gift. It felt like I was invading a person’s privacy, digging into their memories and stealing glimpses of their future . . . it felt wrong. But when I fell behind in my studies, Cadmus would punish me for not living up to his expectations. I found my safe place surrounded by vials and pots and ingredients.”

  When Mara was a child, Tobias had said that Gifts were more of a curse than a blessing. That once you were Gifted, you were restricted in what you did with your life, regardless of your interests. She couldn’t help but feel like he was right. And yet . . . Ethan had managed to avoid that curse. Despite the fact that Ethan was a Magi, he loved alchemy, and he wouldn’t let his Gift stand in the way of his passion.

  “Plus, the palace has a pretty amazing library. You wouldn’t believe the books they have.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” Mara said with more than a little regret. Between etiquette lessons, wedding preparations, training, and plotting a rebellion, she had no spare time to read. “So, what does this mean?”

  “To make it simple, this will cut future brewing time in half, and lower the risk of it exploding in my face again.”

  “Again? Has that happened often?”

  He winced. “Only ten times or so, but who’s counting?”

  “I’m amazed you’re still standing,” she said, finding it too easy to slip back into their usual banter. He made it easy.

  “I’m surprisingly resilient.” He grinned. Then his eyes widened, as if he just remembered something. “Oh! I forgot to show you.”

  “What?”

  He hurried over to the shelf along the far wall and pulled down a clay jar. Mara followed him, leaning closer to get a better look. Her arm brushed against his and she took a sheepish step back. He took the lid off and held it out for her to see. It looked like someone had mashed up bunch of dried weed clippings. She inhaled, hoping for a clue—it was surprisingly pungent, the smell of sage overpowering the rest—and she sneezed.

  “What is that?”
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  “It’s a blend of herbs to help the newly Gifted. You mentioned that some of them were having a hard time getting through their transition, and the fever was lasting longer than it should. Fewer dregs were stepping forward to be Gifted as a result. This will help. It should cut the recovery time to a day. Maybe two.”

  “Really?” He nodded and her face split in two. “That’s fantastic! We’re going to be able to help so many people now.”

  Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him. That tiny jar would make a huge difference for the dregs waiting to be Gifted. The smell of sandalwood and smoke tickled her nose. After a moment, she realized he wasn’t hugging her back. She dropped her arms and jumped away, face flaming. Way to make a fool of yourself, Mara. She peeked up at him, afraid to see his reaction. His eyes were tight, and his jaw was clenched. Great, she’d made him angry. She couldn’t blame him. After all, she had been the one to push him away, and now she was throwing herself into his arms? When the silence stretched, she rushed to the door. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll let you get back to work. Bye!”

  “Wait!”

  She stopped at the threshold, wishing she could take back those last few moments. It wasn’t fair to him.

  “Mara,” he said tentatively, “we need to talk.”

  She paused, chewing on her lip. “What do you want, Ethan?”

  He let out a sigh that seemed to carry all his frustration. “You know what I want.”

  The one thing she couldn’t give. Not now. Not ever. This was bigger than them. She gazed into his gray eyes for a long moment, feeling the weight of his unspoken words. It killed her to say it, but she had no choice. “And you know we can never have it.”

  His face crumpled. Before he could respond, she turned the corner and raced back to her room.

  3

  The sun was high. The dirt was firm. And someone was about to get his butt kicked.

  Hair whipping behind her like a lion’s mane, Mara thundered across the training yard and planted herself in front of the weapons rack, eyes roving over the display. Her hand inched toward the bow and arrows, but they were worthless in close combat. She might as well lay on the ground and ask Mikkal to beat her. With a look of regret, she turned away from the bow.