by K. A. Linde
“I’m not ready to go back,” Kerrigan said.
“But …” Darby began.
Hadrian put his hand on her arm to silence her. “Whatever you want to do, Ker.”
“Let’s go to the Wastes. No one cares that you’re a half-Fae there,” Clover said.
It was a lie. Someone always cared. But it was the closest thing she had to sanctuary.
“All right,” Kerrigan said. “Sure.”
“I’m going to escort Darby back,” Hadrian said. Such an official way of bowing out of the Wastes. He hated it there.
“Scared, sweetheart?” Clover taunted.
Hadrian leveled her with a gaze. “Some of us have standards.”
“Leave it,” Kerrigan said, in no mood to fight. “We’re still celebrating.”
She hugged Darby and Hadrian, telling them to get home safe, and then headed out of the Square with Clover.
“Must you antagonize him?” she asked as they threaded out of Central and to the Dregs—the primarily human slums in the north and western part of the valley that housed the city of Kinkadia.
“I must,” Clover said with a laugh.
As soon as they crossed the border into the Dregs, Clover pulled a cigarette out and lit up. Clover’s cigarettes were laced with loch—the most addictive drug on the market and the only thing that kept back the debilitating pain from which she suffered. Clover’s hands immediately stopped shaking. She’d gone too long without, but she couldn’t exactly smoke loch in the Square.
They were silent as the streets grew narrower and filthier and darker. More and more people were crammed in less space. Taverns were on every corner, blaring with music and laughter. Everyone worked harder and played harder here. Human life spans were so much shorter than the Fae that it was inevitable.
Kerrigan walked into the opening arms of the Wastes. It was a multilevel pit with a floor for drinking, gambling, whores, loch dens, and at the very bottom was the Dragon Ring, where she had fought with magic for the last year of her life. It was where she had met Basem Nix, the leader of the Red Masks. He tried to ruin her life after losing to a half-Fae. He slung the same slur in her face as the man in the tavern. The same ignorance made him rise up against her after she won the tournament. They’d fought not two days ago, and now, he was awaiting trial in the Draco Mountain dungeons. And it had all started here.
Kerrigan received the same reception in the Wastes that she had at The Dragon Scales. Except here, the clientele was predominantly human and half-Fae, and she was their real champion.
As she passed through the cheering crowd, she found a frowning Dozan Rook, the king of the Wastes.
“Red,” he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black pants. He was in a full suit with a red cravat at his throat. His burnished hair shone in the light, and his all-knowing golden eyes stared back at her. As menacing and handsome as she had ever seen him.
“Your champion has arrived,” she said with her arms wide.
He arched one perfect eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’re out on a victory parade.”
“Why? Don’t I deserve to celebrate?”
His lip quirked at the side as he stepped into her personal space. She fought the urge to step backward. She’d been obsessed with Dozan once. He’d even offered her a place at his side as the queen of the Wastes. She knew he only wanted her for her power, but the connection they’d always shared didn’t go away with the logic.
“You deserve everything that’s coming to you,” he said sensually.
“That sounds ominous.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Still took down a Fae male twice my size.”
“I thought you’d have already run back to your mountain.” His eyes trailed over her face, as if awaiting an answer she didn’t know how to give. “Considering Basem Nix just turned up dead.”
2
The Murder
“What?” Kerrigan gasped.
Her mind was spinning. She needed to sober up immediately because she absolutely could not have heard Dozan correctly. Basem Nix was in the Draco Mountain dungeons. The only people with access to him were Society members. The guards were the best of the best and acquiesced to binding spells to prevent any sabotage. It was impossible to infiltrate. Except …
“Ah, you’ve reached the same conclusion that I did,” Dozan said as if he could read her mind.
“He can’t be dead.”
Dozan smirked, a dark, dangerous thing that she’d once adored. “Not if your precious Society is everything that you think it is.”
“The only people who can get into those dungeons are …”
“Society members,” he finished for her.
“Gods,” she breathed.
She put her hand to it to try to stop the buzzing in her head and the dizzy feeling creeping through her limbs. How much had she had to drink at The Dragon Scales? More than normal, that was for sure, but it wasn’t like she’d had faerie punch. It was a dangerous magical concoction that lowered inhibitions. She’d tried them all for fun, and this headache blossoming behind her eyes reminded her of the green kind she’d had a few summers ago with Lyam. She winced at that recollection of her murdered friend. Another casualty of Basem Nix.
“I have to go,” she said at once, turning to Clover.
Clover’s eyes were wide. “What’s wrong?”
She blinked to right her vision. “I need to get back to the mountain.”
“But we just got here, and it’s your last night in town,” Clover said.
Dozan shifted behind her. “Your last night?”
Kerrigan ignored him. He had to have known that she was leaving with Fordham in the morning. He just wanted to have it out with her about joining the House of Shadows, a place that hated humans and half-Fae alike. No, not just hated them, that tortured and killed them. A thousand years ago, the Society had reviled the House of Shadows so much for their continued enslavement of the humans and half-Fae that they went to war against them—the Great War. The House of Shadows had lost and were trapped forever behind a hidden magical barrier. Until Fordham appeared in the dragon tournament.
Now in a twist of fate, Kerrigan was one of them, and the House of Shadows beckoned. It had been the right decision at the time. Between a lifetime in Bryonica, chained to a life she’d been discarded from by her father at five years old, or a new life with Fordham, she’d chosen Fordham. Even though now, things were problematic.
Kerrigan turned to leave, but Dozan reached out quick as a viper and latched on to her arm. The one still sticky with ale. His face showed distaste. “You can’t go run off into the night alone.”
“And why not?”
He removed his hand from her, brushing it against a handkerchief from his pocket. “Don’t you remember what happened when you went off alone after the last tournament?”
Kerrigan glared right back at him. Didn’t she remember? How could she forget? She’d been twelve years old when the first human in history had won the dragon tournament and then left the next day. Kerrigan had gone out to celebrate the victory, was cornered by a group of Red Masks, and brutally assaulted. She’d thought for so long that Dozan had saved her that night, but it turned out that she’d saved herself by the force of her own magic.
That was the night of her first vision. The night of her first using her spirit magic. The start of everything to come.
But things were different now. She was a fighter, a skilled magic user, a member of the Society. Not that she was naive enough to believe that would protect her, but it was not the same as it had been five years ago. She’d made sure of that.
“I’ll be fine.”
Dozan nodded his head at Clover. “Go with her. Ensure she makes it safe.”
“What is Clover going to do that I can’t?” Kerrigan demanded. She winced at Clover’s irritated face. “Nothing against you, Clove.”
Clover was a hundred percent perfectly human. She didn’t have a lick of magic in her veins. Fe
w did in Alandria. Even most half-Fae only had enough for parlor tricks. Kerrigan was an anomaly because she was strong enough with all four elements to join the Society. Another target on her back.
“She can watch your back,” Dozan said. His finger slipped down her jaw, tilting her head up to look into his bright eyes.
“Dozan,” she growled.
He grinned wickedly and released her. “Do try to stay out of trouble and come back to me in one piece, Red.”
“I’m not coming back to you.” She huffed at the insufferable arrogance and then tipped her head at Clover. “Let’s go.”
She refused to look back as they left the Wastes the way they’d come in. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She also didn’t want him to see how much she was flagging. Those drinks had really knocked her on her ass. Maybe it was better to have Clover with her.
“And you get on me for antagonizing Hadrian,” Clover said with a snort.
“Dozan is … Dozan.”
“Yeah, and he wants you bad.” She whistled low.
“He wants my power. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“That’s not what you were saying a year ago when you ended up in his bed.”
“Hey!”
Clover cackled. “All right. I’ll leave it be, but one day, you two are going to have to figure out this sexual tension. It’s uncomfortable to be around.”
Kerrigan rolled her eyes. “That’s not what’s important right now. It’s that Basem Nix is dead.”
“Gods,” she whispered.
Kerrigan couldn’t have said it better herself. The gods themselves needed to answer for this crime after all Kerrigan had gone through to get him in prison. There would be no public trial to show the world that what he’d done was wrong. He’d be buried six feet under with no justice.
They passed out of the Dregs and back down the main thoroughfare through Central. Kinkadia was made up of six main quadrants—Dregs, Central, Row, Riverfront, Artisan Village, and Draco Mountain. Row lay to the east, filled with wealthy, aristocratic mansions and sprawling parks. The Riverfront spread across the South River. The newly wealthy who couldn’t gain access on the Row were building copycat homes along the waterfront. To the southeast was one of Kerrigan’s favorite parts of the city—Artisan Village—with the Opera house, bookstores, and little Painter’s Row. Finally, they came upon Draco Mountain—the home of the Society and dragons as well as the tournament arena. It was the largest peak in the semicircle of mountains that surrounded the Kinkadian valley. And it was home.
“Never gets old,” Clover whispered as they stared up at the heights of the mountain.
“It really doesn’t.”
“I’ll leave you here. I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”
Clover bounced back and forth on her feet, as if she were actually anxious. Kerrigan smiled and threw her arms around her friend.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
“You’d better be. Dozan said those things to rile you up, but don’t let your guard down in the House of Shadows. I want you to come home.”
“I won’t let my guard down.”
“This thing with Fordham …”
Kerrigan shook her head and took a step back. “I don’t want to talk about Fordham.”
“You’re going to be alone with him for two weeks.”
“Just don’t.”
Clover sighed. “Okay. But I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t take care of you.”
Kerrigan laughed. “I’d like to see that.”
“I’m scrappy.”
Kerrigan hugged her again and then hurried toward the mountain before she could get sappy. It was two weeks. How bad could it be?
Kerrigan’s steps slowed as she approached the front entrance to the mountain. A few days ago, she’d thought that she would leave the mountain behind, join a tribe, and become a full citizen. Now, the mountain was her forever home. So much had changed in so little time that it was hard to believe any of it was true. One day, she had been discreetly deposited into the care of the House of Dragons by her father. Twelve years later, she was a Society member.
Thinking of her father—Kivrin Argon, First of the House of Cruse—only soured her mood further. He was next in line for one of the four ruling families of Bryonica, and she’d been a princess, the lost Princess Felicity. Everyone had been looking for her after her “disappearance.” Unbeknownst to them, her father knew precisely where she was. He’d left her there himself before the softly pointed ears that revealed that she was half-Fae were visible. She’d hidden her heritage from all but her closest friends for twelve years, and now, her secret was out. She was almost happy to be out of Kinkadia to avoid Bryonican royals and the upcoming Season.
Almost.
She nodded at the guards at the entrance and then headed toward the dungeons. If news had already reached Dozan, from his spies inside the mountain, then others likely had already heard as well. Her first indication that something was wrong was the increase in guards. Guards patrolled inside Draco Mountain but not like this. She saw more guards here that she didn’t recognize than she did. She didn’t know what use it would be if the person who had murdered Basem Nix was a Society member. Guards didn’t even usually have much magic. Just enough to keep the populace in check.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a guard asked, stopping her at the entrance to the dungeons.
“Official Society business.”
The guard looked skeptical. Kerrigan didn’t blame her. Not only was she drunk, but she was also an underage half-Fae. Her eyes darted to Kerrigan’s softly pointed ears and back.
“I’ll look the part when I get my black robes,” she half-joked.
“Oh,” the guard said, hastily stepping back. “I didn’t realize it was you.”
Kerrigan shot her a hopefully warm smile before careening down the stairs. The temperature dropped precipitously, the farther she wound her way deeper into the dungeons. Kerrigan hadn’t been here in years. Lyam had dared her to run to the bottom of the dungeons one summer. She’d done so just to taunt him. But they’d also thought that the dungeons were empty. She shuddered at the thought of the man she’d found with his guts hanging out.
She gagged on the memory. Lyam had wanted to prove he could do it, too, but she hadn’t let him go. That was back before Lyam had confessed his feelings for her, back when he’d been the fourth member of their quartet, back when he’d been alive.
Voices drifted up out of the gloom, bringing her back into the present. Lyam was gone. His compass still tucked away in her pocket. There was nothing she could do to change that, but Basem’s death was a different story. A new mystery for her to solve.
“Yes, Corinna. Thank you so much for your assistance,” someone said. “We have all that we need here. I’ll let you continue with your investigation.”
“Thank you, Bastian,” Mistress Corinna said. Corinna was the current Chief of the Guard. She’d vouched for Kerrigan before the council when her place in the Society was being debated. “I have my best men here. We’ll find who did this.”
Kerrigan surreptitiously rounded the corner and found Master Bastian and Mistress Hellina standing before Mistress Corinna. Both Bastian and Helly were on the Society council—the highest rank of any member. Bastian had been a dragon tournament adjudicator this year, as Helly had been five years ago.
She was still listening in on the conversation when her foot slipped on the last step. “Scales,” she hissed under her breath.
But it was enough.
Helly whipped around, and when she saw Kerrigan, she sighed heavily. “Kerrigan, what are you doing here?”
Kerrigan straightened and marched forward with what she hoped looked like purpose. “I heard what happened.”
“And how did you hear that?” Helly asked. “We haven’t even announced anything yet.”
“Isn’t that her specialty?” Bastian asked with a warm smile.
“Sticking her nose in where i
t doesn’t belong?”
Kerrigan shrugged. She wasn’t about to say that Dozan Rook had told her. They couldn’t hope to purge all his spies. “This concerns me.”
“It does not,” Helly said. Then, she wrinkled her nose. “Are you drunk?”
“Uh, a bit tipsy,” Kerrigan confessed.
Bastian laughed softly. “You can’t blame her, Hellina. You couldn’t even stand on two feet after you celebrated your tournament win.”
She flashed him an irritated look. Black thumbprints from exhaustion were apparent under her eyes. She’d been running herself ragged with the Basem investigation, and now, it was all starting again. “That is beside the point.”
Corinna covered a laugh with a cough.
“Is he really dead?” Kerrigan asked.
Helly sighed and put a hand on Kerrigan’s shoulder. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Did we at least get any information from him about the Red Masks before this?”
Corinna shook her head. “No. Nothing.”
“This was an inside job,” Kerrigan told them.
“Yes, we came to that conclusion,” Helly said. “And no, you are not part of this investigation. You will let the Society handle it this time.”
“I’m part of the Society now.”
“You have a year of training first. And if I’m not mistaken, you are leaving in the morning.”
“It’s not a crime that she’s invested,” Bastian said. Helly shot him a look full of wrath. But he dismissed her concerns. “I am not suggesting she delay her travels or training, just that you cannot expect her to have no feelings on the matter. She is the one who brought him in.”
Helly nodded. “How about this? I will keep you up to date on the investigation.”
“I would appreciate that.” Kerrigan paused for a moment before leaving. She should let it go, but a part of her couldn’t do it yet. “Are you going to question Society members too?”