prologue
I have always been alone. I enjoy being alone. I do not have to rely on anyone; I do not have to feed anyone besides myself. It’s a long, lonely road I have grown accustomed to. You can’t miss something you never had. I have gotten along just fine by myself.
Until I was sixteen, I thought I was weak. I ran away from the orphanage at fourteen. I figured begging was better than getting beaten every night—not only by the people running it, but by the other kids. After the war, many kids were left without homes. At least, that is what they told me happened to my parents for as long as I can remember.
Living on the streets wasn’t my favorite, but I didn’t play by anyone’s rules. I stole to eat, begged, and saved the little money I had. Soon, I had enough to buy my first knife. It wasn’t large, but it protected me from the other creatures on the streets. The blade was only five inches long and the hilt was small, but it had designs on it that represented the five provinces under Andla. There is Amus, Pretall, Enoya, Icoya, and finally Jahen. I was born in Icoya. That was until I met Leran. She took me in off the streets when I was sixteen, gave me food, new clothes, a bed, and most importantly, a bath. She brought me from Icoya to Dorth, which is in Jahen. She taught me everything I know.
It might seem that she brought children in from the street to live and eventually work in her brothels. Only those who volunteered worked there. What she had in mind for me was much worse.
So here I wait, in a dark alley on my trusted horse, Selna, waiting for Hopper—Leran’s “assistant.” The clock tower strikes. It’s midnight. He is never late. The bars are still full, so barely anyone is outside walking here in Gredorth, on the other side of Dorth. It’s the closest place I call home.
Selna starts moving a bit; she can sense when I am becoming unsettled. I brush the side of her neck. “Shush, girl. He knows what happens when I become upset with his tardiness.” She moves a little closer to my hand, almost as reassurance. Another minute or two passes by, and I hear shuffling coming from behind me.
“Your timely presence always rattles me. Can’t you just let me be here first?” Hopper comes out of the dark. He is the closest thing I have to a friend. He is a little older than I am—around thirty or thirty-one. He’s a tall man with a slender build, but he has defined muscles with scars racking all over his body. He had a rougher childhood than me. While I got sticks and fists, Hopper got whips. You can’t see them now since he is wearing a dark cape. You can see his roughly chopped dark hair and the long scar that goes across his face, from his ear to his forehead. It looks as if he moved mid-strike, leaving a jagged scar along his face. He has smaller scars too, but you must study his face to see them. I have never asked him how he got them, and he has never offered an answer.
“You must have some balls saying that, considering you’re late.” I look him up and down and shake my head, silently laughing. It was always good to see Hopper, but he will never know that. Seeing him reminds me I can get out of this eventually.
I kick my leg over Selna and hit the ground a little harder than I meant to. I pat her breast and walk over to Hopper. He wastes no time going into his pocket to grab the job. This is the only time you can see his entire body and what he is wearing—riding boots, yet I see no sign of a horse; black trousers with pockets I know are full of his specialty poisons and knives; an olive-green shirt tucked in; and a belt of throwing stars.
“Wow, I didn’t know I got you so excited you brought everything out.” This time, I really do laugh.
“Has Leran been in touch?” His face falls as he hands me the piece of paper.
“No. Why would she be? I’m contracted out now to the highest bidder. She’s not the only one I work for anymore. All contact she has with me is through you.” I take the note and shove it into my leg pocket.
“They are looking into her businesses. They have shut down her brothels and are now coming for her mercenaries. Stupid assholes can’t find anything since she keeps no records. Leran has been sending me to tell everyone to get out of town. You are the last person I needed to see. This is goodbye.”
I just look at him, blinking. Then it hits me. This could be the end.
“What do you mean goodbye?” He turns and starts to walk away. I try to catch my breath as I watch him jump onto an abandoned cart, pull himself to the top of the building, and disappear.
I don’t even notice Selna is next to me again until she nudges my arm. Then I remember the note—my last job from Hopper. I unfold it, and I understand. It only has one name. This is not the name I wanted to see. It’s even in her handwriting.
Leran Grayson
They must have found something. She wouldn’t put a hit on herself unless there was no way out.
I look at Selna, who looks as confused as I feel. I usually take her to the barn a couple of blocks away; the owners run a tavern. I pay them well to board and feed her, but I groom her myself. Who would I be to expect loyalty from an animal if I don’t take care of her? She usually goes there after I get my job, and we start the next day. This was different. I knew where she was and who she was with.
“I know, girl, but we need to handle this tonight.” I rub her jaw and grab her so I can climb back on. I pat her shoulder once I’m settled, and she starts forward in a jolt. “We are going to Leran’s.”
Without further direction, she leads the way.
Her office is on the ground level of her townhouse. We reach her street—townhouse after townhouse, all identical. It’s almost completely dark, except for the lanterns on the posts and one door. Selna stops in front of it, knowing this is where we need to be.
If she wanted this to be a straight, easy kill, she is mistaken. She taught me everything I know.
I climb off Selna and walk toward the door. It looks like it was busted in at the frame, but a new door hangs there now. I reach for the handle and find it locked. I laugh to myself. If she hired me to kill her, why lock the door?
I reach up into my hair and pull out my two long, slender hairpins. They almost look like rods, but if you look closely, they taper to fine, sharpened points. I use them in emergencies if I’m losing a fight. Men—and sometimes women—don’t expect weapons hidden in hair. They’re also good for picking locks.
I try to hold my hands steady. I’ve never been good at picking locks. I usually go through windows, but I’d rather not leave her house in disarray. After several minutes, I finally unlock the door. I had told her she needed better locks—maybe she kept them simple on purpose. I have no time to think about it. I just know I need to talk to her.
I walk down the narrow hallway I know well. Leran’s door is all the way down on the right. She has other business partners with offices here, but only those she trusted more than most. She didn’t trust many people. She had a strict rule—if they had no business with her, they left before ten. After all, this was her home.
“If you’re looking for me, I’m in here, Aura.”
I slowly pull out the long blade secured to my thigh and round the corner. I push the door open and see her sitting behind her grand mahogany desk in a leather chair. Her elbows rest on the desk beside a bottle of finely aged whiskey she normally never drank. A glass sits nearby with melted ice—she’s been drinking for a while.
“Come in, darling. Want to join me? We need to talk.”
“You fucking think?” I almost scream, but force it down until it comes out strained. She’s already pouring me two fingers. “First you put a hit on yourself, then you offer me a fucking drink like it’ll fix anything—and don’t forget you called me by the name you gave me.”
She walks over and presses the glass into my hand, then sits on the desk and motions for me to sit. “You might want to sit down for this, love.”
“You need to stop calling me pet names if you want me to kill you.” I smile at the absurdity. It fades as I lift the glass to my lips. I usually shoot my whiskey, but I let it linger this time, savoring the smoky maple flavor. Once it burns enough, I swallow and feel the warmth spread through me. I don’t sit. “I was over that eight years ago, when I started all this. You should be proud—you taught me everything.”
She scoffs. “Aura, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I’m sure you’re confused about why I sent Hopper. He didn’t know whose name was written—I doubt he would have given it to you.”
She reaches behind her and tosses me a pouch. It’s heavy. Inside is far more than she normally pays—at least a thousand silver.
“Now listen to me. They have me cornered. I either go out my way, or I die by them. They want my side of Gredorth. You’ll receive an envelope with papers—everything I own will be yours. Do what you want, but don’t let those rats take it.”
I don’t answer. I down the rest of the whiskey and throw the glass at the wall behind her. She doesn’t flinch.
“I can’t answer your questions right now,” she says. “But you’ll understand.”
Before I can speak, she pulls out a knife and drives it into her heart. She taught me how to sever the aorta—I can tell by the angle that’s exactly what she did. I should feel something, but there’s nothing as I watch her collapse, scarlet flooding the rug.
That’s where I leave her.
I ride Selna back to the barn without looking back.
As I reach my room at the inn, I see my door cracked open. I crouch and slowly grab my knife. Making my way forward, I hear nothing. I stand and kick the door fully open.
Nothing.
The room is trashed. The homemade mattress is flipped and dragged aside. The dresser drawers are emptied, but I keep nothing important there. I don’t have anything important. Everything I own is carried with me.
Not caring what happened here, I fix the room and lie down on the bed, thinking over everything that followed. I look out the window—there’s only an hour or two before sunrise.
I am alone once again.
