I watch as the girl—no, a young woman now—stares back at me, an audible gasp slipping from her lips as her breath hitches in her throat. The look on her face is a mirror of my own reflection: like we’ve both just seen a ghost.

  I knew coming here was a bad idea. Gods damn Jorrik for being out of town! Had he not left Henry in charge of the bar while he was away, I’d be tossing back shots of whiskey before my meeting with Kyros instead of downing bitter dark roast.

  If I didn’t need a stiff drink before, I sure as shit need one now.

  ‘That makes two of us.’

  “Ashe, is that really you?”

  I blink and shake my head as if trying to shake away a phantom. “Dani?”

  Her eyes, shining like bright emeralds beneath skin the color of moonlit sand, are just as enchanting as I remember; my pulse races just as it did the first time I saw her. To a scrawny eight-year-old welp sitting all alone on the steps of an orphanage, seeing her smile from across the street was like watching the sun rise.

  Oh gods, what am I doing?

  Before I can stand, Dani propels herself up and wraps me in a tight embrace. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

  For half a heartbeat I’m fifteen again—her fingers twisted in the front of my shirt, the wind tugging at our hair, the taste of honey on my lips. The space between us stretched thin and dangerous.

  My back stiffens and every instinct screams at me to run, to push her away and draw my blades before she attacks. A hunter’s body is a weapon, our minds broken down over years of intense training and refined into efficient killing machines. We’re not supposed to know fear, or anger, or love. We don’t show emotion.

  And we definitely don’t hug.

  After what feels like an eternity she finally pulls away. To my dismay, she takes a seat in the chair across from me. I stare into her eyes, watching her pupils dilate as she stares back.

  Even after all this time, I still can’t read her.

  ‘But it’s nice to see her again.’ A sense of excitement tingles in the back of my mind as Zeph stirs. ‘We’ve missed her.’

  What am I supposed to do?

  ‘Say something!’

  Thankfully, Dani decides to break the silence first.

  “My gods, you’re . . .” She hesitates, biting back whatever word she was searching for, and I quirk a brow.

  “Grown?”

  She laughs nervously, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she runs fingers through her caramel hair, and my stomach churns.

  “Yes, so you are. Gods, it’s been so long.” Why can’t she stop smiling like that? “How are you?”

  An exasperated sigh rumbles in my chest; I’m not getting away anytime soon. And, even more infuriating, I can’t shake the small part of me that doesn’t want to—Zeph’s infatuation with this whole situation isn’t helping matters, either.

  “Fine. And you?” I wave a hand between us. “How’ve you been?”

  Why are we still here?

  “I’ve been good. Due to graduate from the college soon, if you can believe that.”

  “Magic school?” I tilt my head even as Zeph recoils in disgust. She had never expressed interest in following in her father’s footsteps, at least not to me. “I seem to remember you wanting to be a musician when you grew up. ‘Performing onstage for all the gods to hear’, that’s what you used to say.”

  A flashback suddenly infiltrates my mind and I vividly recall listening from outside her bedroom window as she slid the bow across her cello, coaxing a haunting melody from its strings. I heard her play it only once, and only in secret—she was always so nervous to perform for anyone other than her apartment walls.

  But Zeph and I had never before heard a sound more beautiful.

  “I haven’t played in years.” Her lips twist into a frown and she lowers her chin. “I guess we don’t always get to achieve our dreams, do we?”

  No, we certainly don’t.

  “What about you?” She looks back up. “Did you ever join the Caelysian Knights like you talked about?”

  I almost laugh at the thought; Zeph, however, doesn’t bother holding back. Bastard.

  At one point that was my dream, I guess. Enforcers of Caelysia’s laws, serving the Tetrarchy and keeping peace and order in the land, life in the knighthood meant adventure and prestige—everything an unwanted orphan didn’t have. I used to think that I’d find a sense of purpose if I joined their ranks.

  ‘Oh please, everyone knows the Knights are a joke.’

  You didn’t think so back then. Besides, we found a better calling didn’t we?

  “Life had other plans for me, Dani.”

  She nods. “It seems we have that in common. You know, you were my closest friend growing up. After you told me you were being adopted, I thought that would be the last day we ever saw each other.”

  For a moment I feel her grip in my shirt again, as if holding on could keep me from walking away. The way she looked at me that night, like leaving was something I was choosing.

  ‘She was our friend. How could you leave her behind?’

  We were adopted, Zeph. We didn’t have a choice.

  ‘Well, we do now.’

  You know we can’t.

  ‘Why not?’

  Godsdamn it, Zeph, quit being childish! I’m not explaining this to you again!

  Dani reaches out without warning and grabs my hand, silencing my thoughts as her touch prickles my skin. “I’m so glad you’re back, Ashe.”

  All I can do is stare. I don’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

  “How, um, how’s your hand?” I ask instead, pointing to the wrist that she was not-so-subtly favoring.

  “Hm?” Dani glances down. “Oh, it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt all that much.”

  I may not be able to sense what she’s feeling like I can in others, but she isn’t a very good liar. “That was a pretty nasty fall you took.”

  ‘It was actually pretty funny.’

  “I think I bruised my pride more than anything.” Her face reddens as her eyes flick to the stain covering my stomach. “I’m so sorry about that. I’m usually a lot more coordinated and a lot less accurate. It didn’t burn you, did it?”

  It was more of a shock than anything else. “I’ll live. Can’t say the same about the shirt.”

  She chuckles as Spooky jumps up on the table and demands to be petted, and I smile despite myself. He hasn’t forgotten about her, either. The khaji are known to be a clever species and can be just as mischievous. I wouldn’t be surprised if he orchestrated this whole reunion.

  Little shit.

  “Yes, Mr. Fluffenstuff. I remember you, too.”

  ‘See? Spooky missed her too.’

  I sip my coffee, the bitterness enveloping my tongue as I watch them bump noses, and it’s like we’re children again and no time has passed. The world around us slowly fades as fragments of our younger selves fill the void, an unspoken familiarity settling between two old friends. Echoes of the memories that I had buried deep within the recesses of my mind.

  This is all too surreal.

  The dull chime of the central clock tower resonates somewhere in the distance, snapping me back to reality.

  Fuck, it’s already half past nine. Roren had said that the dinner reservation was at ten; with the Gilded Crown on the other side of town, at this rate I’m already late.

  As much as I’d love to keep Kyros waiting, I can’t stay here any longer.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Without a word I stand and click my tongue. Spooky obediently climbs up my back, his fur tickling my ear as he perches on my shoulder. Gods, he’s getting too big for this. “I have to go.”

  As if reminded of her own appointment, Dani curses under her breath.

  “Shit, I’m late!” She jumps to her feet like a whirlwind and quickly shoves her chair under the table. But, before she can run out of the coffeehouse, she freezes in place. Her gaze lingers on me as uncertainty furrows her brow. “Will I, uh, will I see you again?”

  ‘Yes, say yes!’

  Every rational fiber of my being is yelling at me to stop this here and now. Entertaining the ghosts of my past will only jeopardize my future as a Bladesworn and I can’t afford to be blinded by such reveries. I won’t be in this city for much longer and no good will come of it.

  But my heart declines to listen and, against my better judgment, I give her a terse nod. The look of relief that washes over her is like a punch to the gut.

  ‘Liar.’

  I can feel Zeph’s disappointment radiating inside my head; it tastes sour on my tongue, but I stand by my decision.

  False hope is all I can promise. It’s better this way—for both our sakes.

  ***

  “You’re late.”

  “Were you waiting long?” I smirk as I take a seat. “How inconsiderate of me.”

  The man snorts and waves a waiter over. “It’s nice to see you, too, Ashe.”

  A young girl on the cusp of adulthood, blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun and dressed in a pristine white button-up and black slacks, hurries over with a fresh bottle of uncorked wine and tops off our glasses. Given the hour there aren’t too many patrons to attend to in the dimly lit eatery, but at the price they charge for room and board the service better be quick.

  After she sets the bottle on the table and retreats, I pick up my drink and raise it in a toast. “Wish I could say the same, Kyros.”

  “Still so sensitive.” He tsks and sips from his own glass. “And here I thought we were friends.”

  I frown. “You really think that, after all the shit you pulled while we were trainees, I’d forgive you that easily?”

  ‘We never forget.’

  Surviving those six years was hard enough without Kyros tormenting me every chance he got. At fifteen I was already two years behind my peers when Roren adopted me from that orphanage in Delkai; the special instruction I received from Aeito only further isolated me from them.

  “Careful now. Holding grudges will age you.”

  ‘Let me eat him.’

  Maybe later.

  “A luxury that you won’t have if you continue with these false pleasantries.” I down the rest of my wine and pour another glass. Perhaps I’m a little more agitated after my run-in with Dani only a short while ago, a living reminder of the life that I was supposed to forget, but Kyros has always known just what buttons to press. Some memories are best left buried and the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can leave this all behind. “We’re here to talk business so let’s talk.”

  “It’s bad luck to talk on an empty stomach.”

  ‘He’s not wrong.’

  I gnash my teeth as he calls the waiter over once more. “You’re stalling.”

  “I’m hungry Ashe,” he says, combing a hand through the top of his thick chocolate brown hair as his dark blue eyes study the menu in front of him. “I’ve had a long journey and the, uh, rack of lamb sounds good. With roasted red potatoes and grilled aspergras.”

  The waiter turns to me but I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

  A sudden growl from my stomach betrays me and Kyros smirks. “Don’t be so modest. I’m buying.”

  How generous. Still, at these prices I’d be foolish to refuse a free dinner.

  “In that case I’ll have the same.” ‘And tartberry cobbler!’ “And a slice of tartberry cobbler. And a six ounce filet to-go, rare, with a side of cooked unseasoned snow peas.”

  Kyros laughs. “Glad to see you brought your appetite. Speaking of wild animals, where is that damned cat of yours, anyway?” he asks as the waiter takes the menus and walks away to place our orders. “You never go anywhere without it.”

  “He’s back in the room. Doesn’t much care for your company but I’m sure he’ll appreciate the meal.” I quirk a brow and lean back, appraising Kyros for the first time since I sat down.

  His appetite for the fanciful hasn’t changed much, judging by the black leather vest and matching silk tie he wore. Even the collared dress shirt, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looked expensive. With his chiseled jaw and defined cheekbones, muscular build, and the faint three-lined scar over his right brow and trailing across the shaved side of his scalp giving him a rugged edge, some might consider him handsome—he certainly thought so.

  Always concerned more with his appearance than anything else. Some things never change.

  ‘Prideful. Arrogant. Tasty.’

  Shut up, Zeph.

  My gaze shifts to the fresh ink curling around his knuckles and up his exposed forearm, the silver-infused demon blood still glistening with a dull sheen that’ll wear off the more he calls upon the power he’s borrowed, and I find myself wondering just how busy the brandmaster’s been lately. The tattoo isn’t as extensive as his father’s but he’s definitely added to it since our last encounter.

  Clearly Kyros has been reaping, too.

  My blood boils at the thought of him slaying demons and stealing all the fun while I’ve been stuck in this mage-infested city for months. He’s an arrogant fool to be brandishing his mark so openly, though. Although not many outside the Blades Society would recognize the patterns for what they are, it’s an act punishable by death if he’s ever caught.

  But far be it from me to snitch on the headmaster’s son.

  He arches an eyebrow as he appraises me in turn. “Nice to see you clean up for a change,” he says, gesturing to my shirt as he inhales deeply. “Firebean coffee? How fitting. Bitter smells sweet on you.”

  ‘He insults us.’

  Like I had time to change. “Where are your lackeys?” I ask, hoping to refocus the topic away from my soiled attire.

  “Damen and Selene?” He shrugs. “They aren’t—”

  ‘They’re here.’

  “I was being rhetorical. They’re seated two tables down.”

  “So you were casing the place.” He chuckles but isn’t surprised by my answer. “What, you don’t trust me?”

  “No.” And I didn’t need to case the restaurant; even now, I can sense them. Besides, Kyros never goes anywhere without his loyal flock. “Why don’t they join us? Are they scared?”

  “Of you?” His laugh deepens and he motions with his hand. “Hardly. They didn’t want to put you off, is all.”

  I watch as two more hunters join us at the table, a scowl twitching on my lips as unpleasant memories begin to resurface. Maybe this was a bad idea, but I dare not let them see my discomfort. I’d rather die than give them the satisfaction.

  “Well isn’t this a nice surprise,” Selene says, flipping the ends of her long black hair over her shoulder as she looks at her twin. Gods, they still dress the same. “When’s the last time we were all together like this, Damen?”

  “Since we passed initiation and took our blood-oaths, I reckon.” He pours himself a glass of wine, almond eyes locking with my own. “It’s like a little family reunion.”

  I’d barely call them comrades in arms, let alone family.

  “Four years now? Where has the time gone?” A low whistle flies from Selene’s plump red lips and eagerly she leans toward me. I involuntarily flinch back and hope to the gods that she didn’t notice. “Have you added to your mark?”

  ‘Can I eat her, at least?’

  Stop talking, Zeph!

  I have half a mind to show them what true power looks like—my living curse against their borrowed ink—just to see them squirm. How tough would they be if they knew what I really am?

  But Roren made me swear years ago, made me promise not to breathe a word of my burden to anyone. So instead I offer her a shrug.

  “I’ve been stationed here for the last six months, Selene. It’s been a while since my last reaping.”

  At least that much is true. I haven’t slain a demon in almost a year. Why does Roren keep me from them? What good am I to the Society if he won’t let us hunt?

  “Oh, you’re missing out then, Little Squeak.”

  I bristle at the nickname but she doesn’t seem to notice as she pulls aside the collar of her shirt and exposes her bare shoulder. Dark concentric circles cover her honey-colored skin, the tiny runescript painted between the lines detailing the victory of her recent battles.

  I watch as it shimmers like the silvered edge of my daggers under the enchanted firelight of an overhanging chandelier, a contrast to the faded black of her older tattoos as the blood from her latest kill pulsates like a living thing, the otherworldly power held at bay only by the silver powder ground into the ink.

  “Let’s see yours.”

  My throat tightens. “What?”

  “Oh come on, Squeak. You’re always covering your tattoo. Let’s see it.”

  Her request may seem like an innocent curiosity on the surface, but I can hear the challenge hidden beneath her words. Some of the other Bladesworn made it a game to compare their marks, brandishing them like a tally of their kills. The more demon hearts you take, they reason, the better hunter you are.

  But the bandages I wear under my clothes bind me to a different set of rules, an oath of secrecy that I dare not break. They hide the truth constantly biting at the back of my throat and writhing just under my skin. The birthmark on my chest is organic, it’s not branded into my flesh the same way their tattoos are.

  Their power will fade as the ink dries and they’ll require a new heart to make more. My veins burn eternal with it.

  I don’t just kill. I consume.

  I force a grin. “And spoil the mystery? Come now, Selene, you know I’m not one for show and tell.”

  “Maybe she’s ashamed,” Damen interjects as he takes a long drink. “Maybe she doesn’t want to show you her mark because there’s nothing to see. Not all hunters have the stomach for it.”

  He doesn’t know how close to the truth he really is.

  “That’s too bad. Reaping is such a rush.”

  “That’s enough, Selene,” Kyros says, his tone low. “No one likes a showoff.”

  Damen shakes his head as his sister purses her lips but she covers herself back up all the same. “You boys are no fun.”

  Our conversation fades as a trio of servers brings us our dinners, setting the plates carefully around the table before scurrying out of sight. As one of the Society’s safe houses, the staff are accustomed to waiting on hunters. Sworn to secrecy out of fear of retribution, they know better than to linger in places they are not wanted—they aren’t privy to our secrets, though, and Selene’s loud mouth may be her undoing one day.

  I can only pray that I’m around to see her downfall.

  “Please tell me that we’re getting to a point in this happy little reunion where you give me what I came for?” I say once we’re alone again.

  Kyros makes a show of tucking his napkin into his vest. “And what would that be?” he asks, a metallic shink! shink! filling the air as he drags the steak knife across his fork like he’s sharpening a killing blade.

  ‘He’s stalling again.’

  In a rage I slam my fist down on the table, rattling the dishware and knocking over the empty wine bottle. “Don’t fuck with me!”

  “Someone’s cranky,” Damen mutters between a mouthful of salad. Selene’s shrill laughter only grates my nerves even further and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to reach over and strangle the life out of her.

  ‘If we’re taking them down, then the annoying one is mine.’

  One day, maybe, but tonight is not that night.

  Zeph stirs wildly, his flames burning in my chest as my anger becomes his. ‘Let me feast on their souls!’

  Unperturbed, Kyros flicks the tip of his knife in my direction. “Relax. Eat.”

  I take a deep steadying breath, counting down from ten as I reel in the red hot tendrils pulsing in my veins like Aeito had taught me to do whenever my anger got the best of me.

  A trick to center myself and keep the demon from taking over.

  A necessity to stay in control.

  I grimace as Zeph fights, resisting my attempts at holding him back. We need to calm down before we’re put down!

  “I’m just here for a name, Kyros,” I say once my anger has subsided and Zeph has retreated to the corners of my mind once more. “Give me that much and I’ll leave.”

  “The headmaster was clear in his instruction,” he replies without missing a beat. “I’m sure you’ve already been briefed on most of the details so you know the risks involved. We’re all going in on this one, Ashe, and it’s happening tonight so I suggest you eat up. This is high profile. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

  Seven hells, does he get enjoyment out of pissing me off or is being a dick just in his nature?

  My jaw clenches. “Just give me the godsdamn name.”

  Kyros stares for several long moments, blue eyes cutting through me as he takes another bite, and for a fleeting moment I wonder if he can actually see the darkest parts of me. Then, wiping the corner of his mouth, he leans closer. A wild gleam alights his eye as he holds up an obsidian medallion and gives the name of our target, and my heart sinks at his words.

  “The Hand of the Imperium Arcana, itself. Supreme David Vossler.”