The Hand.

  Not a member of their order.

  Not one of their elites playing court on their High Council.

  One of the three godsdamn Supremes that sit at the top of the Imperium’s Triad. And even then, it had to be him.

  The gods must surely hate me. Why else would they bring Dani back into my life only to send me on a mission to assassinate her father?

  The David Vossler I remember was devout in his role, dedicated to overseeing the relationships of the Imperium’s political partners and cultivating a positive image of weaving magic within the media. He was a nice man, if a little stern, but that hardly fits the profile of an apostate.

  But telling them that would call into question my loyalty to the Blades Society and to our cause.

  ‘Hunters must never question their headmaster nor harbor any doubts about themselves or the Society. To doubt is to spread the diseases of fear and dissension, and such illnesses threaten the wellbeing of our organization as a whole.’ The sixth tenet of the Bladesworn’s code.

  A hunter’s blade is a tool for neutrality, sharpened to perfection and wielded to uphold the balance in the world. The Society may take commissions to further that goal but rarely do we ever get involved in politics. Besides, all bounties that come through Moonshadow Hall are fully assessed and vetted for credibility before being accepted by the headmaster, himself. If Roren approved of this missive then there must be a good reason for it.

  Who am I to question his judgment after all he’s done for me?

  ‘What about Dani?’

  What about her?

  ‘She was a friend, Ashe. We don’t hurt friends.’

  That was another lifetime ago, Zeph.

  I can sense his disappointment as he withdraws into his corners again, like a child who failed to get his way and has stomped off to pout. But I understand his strife; I feel it, too.

  This is exactly why a hunter disconnects themselves from their past. Fostering old connections blinds us to the truth—that no one can be trusted. Holding on to the threads of who we once were and the people we once knew clouds our minds to the job we must perform. It makes us doubt and doubt makes us weak.

  So then why does the thought of going through with this turn my stomach?

  “When do we move?” Damen asks, breaking the silence that had fallen over us.

  “Tonight.”

  “Well no shit, Kyros,” Selene scoffs. “But it’s not like we can just make him disappear. People will notice if someone like him goes missing.”

  She’s not wrong. Despite the allegations that led to the Imperium taking out a blood bounty on their own Hand, a scandal this big requires finesse. If the Society is implicated in the murder of a Supreme or if word got out that the Imperium had an apostate seated within their own Triad . . . well, I don’t think either organization would survive that kind of backlash.

  Do they know the full weight of the consequences of this assignment?

  “I’ve met with our contact—”

  I snap my head up. “You met the contact?” At his nod I frown. “That’s not how we do things.”

  “This is my mission, Ashe. The headmaster entrusted me to take lead and I’ll run it how I see fit.” I bristle at the arrogant smirk that crosses his face. “The orders are clear. It’s to look like a targeted attack on Imperium grounds. No cleaners, no cover-ups. They want the body to be found.”

  “Roren said this was to be dealt with quietly. How does framing the hit as a public assassination constitute as ‘quiet’?”

  Kyros swirls his wine. “Quiet simply means that we aren’t implicated. By passing the blame to someone else, we’re giving the Imperium a martyr instead of a tragic accident.” He takes a sip. “In this way, we get to solve two problems: the Imperium is cleansed of a traitor and the Covenant takes the fall.”

  The Covenant. Nothing but a bunch of heretics and hedge mages.

  Sure their movement has been a thorn in the Imperium’s side ever since the Fracturing became mandatory for anyone wishing to practice magic, but why would they want to frame them for the death of a Supreme? And a Supreme who is accused of being an apostate, no less?

  One possibility comes to mind and my stomach churns.

  Only the Caelysian government has the authority to declare war but the Tetrarchy tends to tread carefully whenever magic is involved. Rogue mages have always been the Imperium’s problem and they in turn have always entrusted the Blades Society to handle it. If they were looking for a reason to rally the regents behind their cause, maybe even untie their hands, then feigning an assault within their own walls was sure to garner political attention.

  After all, if an apostate could infiltrate the highest ranks of the only institution that governs magic, not even the Tetrarchy would be safe from scrutiny—especially with elections only two months away. And when the news breaks that the Imperium’s Hand was murdered in an attack that the mages will surely claim could have been prevented, they will have little choice but to comply.

  ‘You’re reaching.’

  Maybe. But everyone has their own house to clean and cover-ups create opportunities. Why stop at one defector when the Imperium can use murder to take out the whole lot of them.

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

  Saving face is one thing, though. Using it as a tool to incite another purge so they can root out practitioners of unsanctioned magic weaving is a whole other matter.

  Does Roren know what he’s getting us all into?

  “Of course,” Kyros adds, “if apostates are the scapegoat then this means no weapons.”

  Selene huffs. “Well that’s no fun. How do you expect me to work when you won’t let me play?”

  I nearly roll my eyes. Hunters are trained to be lethal in more than just weaponry, though it is objectively less fun.

  “Poison, obviously.” After considering several viable options I quirk a brow. “Nightbloom?”

  Kyros nods and leans back, patting the leather satchel at his side to indicate he already has an elixir on hand. Gods, even his accessories are expensive.

  “It’s effective and undetectable once ingested, but we only get one shot at this. Our contact is making a drop at midnight. They’re giving us our window of opportunity”—he tosses the napkin over his empty plate with a smirk—“so all we have to do is show up and get the job done.”

  The waiter arrives with my to-go order and I stand. None of this feels right.

  Kyros raises an eyebrow. “Where are you off to?”

  “To feed my cat,” I say, waving the container. “If we’re doing this tonight then I need to prepare. And change into something more appropriate.”

  “Don’t go getting cold feet, now, Squeak.” Selene smirks as I flip her a middle finger.

  “She’ll be there,” Kyros says, and I can hear the warning in his tone as he tosses a roll of colored scrips and three gold coins onto the table. His gaze finds mine and my blood turns to ice in my veins. “I’ll come get you when the drop is made. Make sure you’re ready.”

  ***

  “Fuck!”

  Spooky hisses as I toss the container of food at the couch, scurrying out of the way as it bounces off a cushion and onto the floor. The lid pops off and its contents spill out. Peas and steak juice go everywhere, but that’s the least of my concern.

  ‘Told you to let me eat him.’

  “Zeph, by the gods I swear I will kill you myself if you don’t shut up! Just, let me think, alright?”

  Tearing off my coat, I toss it on the bed and run my hands through my hair as a frustrated groan rattles in my chest. I only have half an hour at best until Kyros comes looking for me. Maybe a shower will help ease my mind and stop my pulse from racing.

  I strip out of my clothes, rip off the bandages wrapped around my arms and torso, and crank the temperature control all the way up. Steam quickly mists the bathroom and my skin reddens as scalding water falls over me like liquid fire, but even as I grit my teeth the burning sensation does little to distract me and the knot curling in the pit of my stomach continues to build.

  Seeing Dani after all these years apart, along with all the memories and emotions that our unexpected reunion stirred up.

  Working with Kyros and his lackeys again after all the crap they pulled on me during our training, along with all the repressed memories and emotions that that little reunion brought up.

  This new assignment that puts my loyalty as a hunter on a collision course with the convictions of my past, a contradiction of what I am now versus who I used to be.

  This is all too much for me to process at once.

  I’m a godsdamn hunter. I have a directive and I follow it without hesitation, no matter the cost. That is who I am, that is what I do.

  If David Vossler is an apostate and the Society was contracted to take care of him, then it’s my duty to hunt him down—regardless of whether it’s right or who it ends up hurting. If that means getting my hands dirty then so be it. They’re already stained.

  I shouldn’t be questioning my orders or what I think I remember of him from my childhood.

  I shouldn’t feel this conflicted about taking a life when I’ve taken hundreds of lives before without so much as a second thought.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about how this will affect her.

  I shouldn’t be feeling anything at all!

  A guttural scream rips from my throat as I pound a fist against the wall, cracking the tile.

  Despite the heat searing my flesh I can feel the fire burning within as Zeph stirs, fueled by my growing anger. My birthmark ripples with a dangerous urge as my veins begin to shimmer with the same iridescence, glowing under my skin like oil on water as the internal inferno builds, and quickly I squeeze my eyes shut and count backwards from ten.

  Calm the fuck down before we lose control!

  Calm the fuck down!

  Calm down.

  Calm . . .

  Taking a deep breath, I reach up with shaking fingers and grab the pendant hanging around my neck. The blackstone is cool to the touch, grounding me, and slowly I open my eyes and glance down.

  The sapphire gemstone winks under the bathroom light, taunting me with the promise I had made so many years ago. As if it would ever let me forget.

  “You have one, too?”

  Dani laughed as she held out her own necklace. My eyes grew wide at the pendant in her hand; other than the ruby where my sapphire laid, it was a mirror image of the one I wore.

  “Wow.” It was all I could think of to say as I held up my amulet. With childish giggles, we drew them closer until the smooth curves were almost touching. “Look, they match!”

  “Where did you get yours?”

  “Back at the monastery where I grew up, before I was sent here. The lady who gave it to me said I was wearing it the night I was born. Where did yours come from?”

  “I got it for my birthday last week. My dad said my mom left it to me when she died and that I should have it as a reminder of her.” A sadness clouded Dani’s eyes but in a blink it had disappeared as excitement filled her gaze once more. “We share the same birthday and now we share a necklace. You know what this means, don’t you?”

  I shook my head, the frayed tip of my braid brushing over my shoulder.

  “It means that from here on out we’re officially best friends! And as your best friend I promise to always be here for you, Ashe. No matter what.”

  ‘A . . . friend?’ Zeph was just barely a whisper then, not yet developed, but his enthusiasm had been overwhelming.

  I-I’m not supposed to talk to you, I had replied, taking care not to vocalize my thoughts. Growing up in the monastery the monks had always taught me to ignore the voice in my head, preaching about how I shouldn’t consort with the darkness feeding on my soul and punishing me if I failed to listen.

  But I wasn’t living at the monastery anymore. Not since the accident.

  ‘We’ve never had a friend before.’

  A fuzzy warmth rooted itself in my chest and my cheeks burned from the smile that spread across my mouth as I said, “We promise to always be there for you, too, Dani. No matter what.”

  I turn off the shower and wrap myself in a towel. My skin is hot pink but soon enough the heat ebbs away and the redness disappears, leaving behind only a few swollen blisters that will heal over within minutes.

  My veins are no longer glowing but my chest still feels tight and the knot in my stomach still feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. It’s like a battle in my mind between what I know, what I’m told, and what I feel, and I don’t know which side to stand on.

  For the first time since taking my oath as a Bladesworn, I’m conflicted.

  What the fuck am I supposed to do?

  ‘The right thing, Ashe. We do the right thing.’

  We haven’t seen her in over a decade. We’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much to get where we are now. Doesn’t that mean anything?

  ‘We promised her just like we promised Aeito.’

  My jaw clenches as the memory of him surfaces, a drowning weight that threatens to pull me under.

  Aeito must have known that he was slipping. That his own demons were consuming him after he had taken so many hearts. The night before my initiation, he made me swear to help him when the time came.

  ‘We kept that promise, didn’t we?’

  Gods damn you, Zeph!

  But I know deep down that he’s not wrong. A hunter is only as good as their word—Aeito taught me that. I didn’t know then that my promise would mean that I would be the one to end his life. I didn’t know that my mentor would become my first Reaping. But, despite the pain it brought me, I honored his wishes.

  To the Bladesworn, an oath is everything. No matter the cost.

  From his perch near the couch, Spooky licks his red-stained lips and stares up at me, unblinking, and just like that my mind is made up.

  I have to warn her. And, with no leads and no idea where she could be, I have no time to waste.