When Kaila Dwyn discovered her Gift, everything was taken from her: her father, her home, her faith. Hunted by the very heroes she once worshiped, Kaila had no choice but to join the Elysian. But the power of the Magisterium is absolute, and the ancient enemies of humanity can do little to prevent their inevitable slide towards extinction.
Some still fight. Elysian thieves, hidden amongst the underground of Tah’raus, they find their own small ways to resist. Kaila delights in taking what revenge she can against those who destroyed her life. But it’s not enough—until the crime lord Ambrose Braider hatches a plan to steal the Aegis. It is the most powerful artefact in the Magisterium’s possession. Without it, their hold over the world will crumble. Can Kaila and her ragtag group of friends pull off the heist of the century and steal it back—or will their reckless gamble doom the Elysian rebellion forever?
Become a paid subscriber to access early chapters of this series, plus many of the other series I have written! You can even take a free 7 day trial to see if my books are for you. You can find my other books on my website.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Kaila blinked. Her eyes and thoughts had been on Eliza. Her old enemy had finally surrendered to the pain and lost consciousness. They’d moved her to a cot Garrick had set in the corner and brought cold water and ice to cool her burns. Even so, Eliza would be scarred for life.
If she even recovered from her wounds. Kaila shuddered, recalling the sight of Eliza’s skin bubbling, and her screams, the terror in her eyes. Despite their past, she couldn’t stand back and watch while her enemy suffered, not like that...
…her hand went instinctively to the collar she now wore. The gold was cool to the touch, unmarked by whatever twisted magic the Magisterium had used against its original owner. Yet again they had outdone themselves—except this time, it was against their own followers.
But Theron had asked her something, and blinking she finally tore her gaze from the sleeping Daughter.
“Am I ready?” she croaked, fingers tightening around the gold collar. “No?” Her voice cracked, tears springing to her eyes. “Theron, I don’t know—”
Theron drew her into a hug.
She was surprised. He had kept her at a distance since that night in Iselador. It hurt—but she accepted it. After learning the truth about agimet, she hardly even cared. All that mattered was revenge. But now…now Kaila hugged him back with a desperation she hadn’t known lay inside of her, sobbing, burying her head in his shoulder as all the anger and fear and hatred came rushing out.
“Theron, what am I doing?” she gasped. “Quintin was right. I’m not cut out for any of this!”
“No, Kaila.” His arms held her tight. “You’re stronger than you think. Believe me, if I didn’t know you could do this, I wouldn’t have let you put on that collar.”
She swallowed, the cold metal pressing against her flesh. It terrified her, recalling what had happened to Eliza. But Theron was right—she had come too far now to turn back. Slowly, painfully, she rose from that empty pit in her heart and found herself clinging to Theron like he was the only thing solid in a world of chaos.
Remembering herself, she released him and stepped back. He wore a little twist on his lips that looked a lot like pity. Thankfully, the squeal of the hidden door saved them from further awkwardness.
“Doesn’t look like she’s been missed yet,” Quintin announced as he descended. “It’s getting late though; if she’s still doing this, it’s time we got moving…” He trailed off as he reached the basement and saw the pair of them.
Or rather, saw Kaila wearing Eliza’s face. There was a moment where the Psionic just stood there, lips pursed and sharp eyes watching. Then he gave a grunt.
“Well, I see Ambrose hasn’t lost his touch,” he muttered. “And that’s her real collar?” When they both nodded, the crease in his forehead deepened. “Were the stories…”
“Afraid so,” Theron confirmed.
“Trickster be damned, Theron,” Quintin muttered. “That changes everything—”
“It doesn’t change anything,” Kaila interrupted, lifting her chin to meet the man’s eyes. “I still need to take her place to stop them looking for her.”
The Psionic sighed. “Agimet save us all, there’s two of them,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Well, come on then, I’ll escort you to the gates of the Sanctum.”
That gave Kaila pause. “Not Theron?”
“Theron Falkenrath,” Quintin grunted, “should already be tucked away safely in his bed. He definitely shouldn’t be seen wandering the streets with random Daughters that are not the princess.”
Kaila pursed her lips. The man had a point.
“Remember, all you need to do is pretend to be your friend. That should be enough to keep them off our backs,” Theron said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “If you find out any information about the prince or the princess, that’s just a bonus.” He hesitated. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”
Nodding, Kaila glanced at the cot in the corner. “And Eliza?”
“Ambrose will keep an eye on her.”
“I’m sure he’s going to love that,” Quintin muttered.
***
The Sanctum loomed in the darkness, its enormous dome silhouetted against the night sky. Shadows seemed to stretch and twist around it, as if its very presence was a stain upon the heart of the city. Kaila’s steps faltered as they neared the gates, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
Quintin walked beside her, his face grim. “Almost there.”
The words did nothing to calm her nerves. Suddenly her mouth was parched. She could almost see the gates. A tremor shook her. Was she really going through with this? Up until now, it hadn’t fully struck her, the magnitude of what she intended to do. Impersonating a Daughter was one thing, but disguising herself as one to sneak into the Sanctum itself…
Suddenly, her entire body was shaking. In her mind, she was back in the Iron Pinnacles, watching the Warden’s inexorable climb toward them, feeling the suffocating weight of his magic pressing against her mind. She came to a halt in the street and Quintin glanced back at her with a frown.
“I’m going to mess this up, aren’t I?” the words came tumbling out before she could stop them.
Quintin didn’t respond. She wondered if he was using his powers on her again. His eyes lacked the glint of atar, but she knew now there were ways to mask that, lenses like what Ambrose had given her. But if the Psionic was using his Gift, she didn’t feel any different. Rubbing a hand through the stubble on his chin, he studied her before giving a shrug.
“Probably.”
Kaila blinked. “Ah…”
“Not what you were expecting to hear?” Quintin asked with a grin.
She jerked her head from side to side, the heat of fear seeping through her limbs, eyes burning. It’s just the lenses, she told herself.
The older man crossed his arms. “Would you prefer I lied to you?”
Gritting her teeth, Kaila forced herself to meet his gaze. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
This time it was Quintin’s turn to blink. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m angry,” she said, “because I hate them.”
To her surprise, Quintin chuckled. “Perhaps I was a little harsh on you earlier,” he said. “But it’s only because it pains me to see another young Elysian following down that same well-worn path.”
Her stomach churned. “Maybe you’re right,” she whispered, unable to meet his eyes. “When I saw Eliza, all I could think about was hurting her. But when the time came…” She swallowed. “I was a fool.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. But I’m proud of you all the same.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because even though you had every reason to kill your old enemy, you spared her instead.” He offered a wistful smile. “It makes me think there might be hope for the rest of us as well.”
Kaila hung her head. “But I still screwed up.”
“We all screw up at times—even Theron.”
“Sure he does.”
“He does,” Quintin said, surprising her with the vehemence in his tone. “He just expects it, is all. That’s the secret to this profession, you see. You can’t just stroll through this world thinking you’re never going to make a mistake.”
“Why would I want to make a mistake?”
“It’s not a matter of want, it’s a matter of fact. It will happen.”
“Not if I plan—”
“For everything?” Quintin smirked. “Believe me, smarter men and women have stood where you are now and said the same thing. Do you know what happened to them?”
She shook her head.
“They froze,” he said softly, “they became too afraid of their mistakes to make an actual decision.”
“So, what?” Kaila pressed. “I just make mistakes on purpose?”
“Now you’re being purposely dense.” His eyes shone with amusement. “My oldest is like that. No, you don’t make mistakes on purpose, but you accept you will never be perfect. You prepare for when you do inevitably mess up. Like painting a wall—you know you’re going to make mistakes. Eventually, you’ll get paint somewhere the paint shouldn’t go. But if you have a damp cloth on hand, you can wipe those mistakes away without ruining the entire job.”
Kaila frowned. “Ambrose told me a metaphor about painting earlier as well.”
“That’s how we all met,” Quintin explained, “didn’t you know? Before Ambrose was…well, Ambrose, he was like the rest of us—bowing and scraping for coin, hoping to save up enough one day for a piece of agimet on the black market.”
“So you painted houses as a cover?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes we just needed food.”
Do these hands look like they’re used to hard labour?
She swallowed, grappling to reconcile the image of the impeccably dressed tailor with that of a common labourer.
“So…” she said at last, forcing the conversation back to more pressing matters. “You’re saying I need to be ready for things to go wrong.”
Quintin offered a warm smile. “Exactly. And realise it doesn’t have to be the end of the world.”
She sighed. Given her circumstances, the end of the world wasn’t exactly outside the scope of possibilities, but she took the point. If she let those worries consume her, how could she possibly move forward?
“Alright,” she breathed. The trembling receded.
More out of habit than anything, she reached into her pocket to check the compartment Ambrose had added. Her fingers brushed against the hidden crystal. Normally she would have feared just to touch it while in public, but the tailor had assured her the weaving and lenses combined would hide the faint glow in her eyes, and she needed the reassurance of its atar.
Instead, she froze as her hand closed around the crystal and she felt…nothing. The shaking returned a hundred-fold as she looked up at Quintin. He must have seen the sudden terror in her eyes, for he frowned and drew her into the shadows of a nearby alleyway.
“What is it?”
“My agimet,” she whispered, drawing out the crystal and holding it in her palm. “I can’t use it!”
“What?” Quintin hissed.
“The atar inside, I can sense it, feel it, but I can’t draw from it. It’s like my Gift is—”
She broke off as realisation dawned on her. It must have come to Quintin as well, for they each stood staring at each other as the seconds ticked past.
The collar.
Her hand went to the cold metal around her throat. “It’s blocking my Gift,” she whispered. “How is that possible?”
“Eliza said the Aegis was involved…” Quintin rasped, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We have to call this off.”
“What?”
“Kaila, we can’t send you in there alone without your power!”
“I don’t have a choice!” she replied desperately, fingers closing around the collar. “If it can block my Gift…”
The panic built inside her as she followed that trail of thought. If it could block her Gift, did that mean the protections were also in place? The collar tightened like a noose around her throat as she remembered Eliza’s screams.
“We’ll find another way, Kaila,” Quintin whispered. “When we take the Aegis—”
“There won’t be a heist if they come looking for Eliza,” she replied. Lifting her chin, she met the Psionic’s eyes. “I have to do this, Quintin.”
He pursed his lips, looking doubtful. “What about the weaving? It’ll fail without your power.”
Her skin crawled. He was right. Gritting her teeth, she turned her vision inwards and called upon her Warden’s power. The nexus flickered into sight, curls of power drifting through the city. Trembling, she reached for one—and was surprised when it responded to her command, swirling down to touch the crystal in her hand.
“It works,” she breathed, relief washing through her. Her head lifted. A frown still creased Quintin’s brow. She forced a smile. “Be ready for things to go wrong, right?” she repeated his words back to him.
Shaking his head, the Psionic let out a sigh. “Theron is going to be apocalyptic when he finds out.”
Kaila exhaled her relief. “Thank you, Quintin,” she said quietly, “for believing in me.”
He nodded. “Don’t make me regret it.” Then he hesitated, his gaze lingering on her face. “Incredible. There’s not a hint of atar…” he trailed off, lips twisted as though in thought.
Goosebumps tickled Kaila’s scalp. “I’ll manage,” she whispered and slipped the crystal back into her pocket. “I survived most of my life without it.”
“You know what they’ll do if they catch you.”
Almost as one, their eyes drifted to the dome that loomed above the alleyway. They were almost there. Kaila’s legs began to shake again. She swallowed. She needed to go now, or she would never do it.”
“I think it’s time I went on alone,” she whispered.
The Psionic opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it again and nodded. She reached out and squeezed his hand, then turned and headed for the street.
“Anything you’d like me to pass on to Theron?”
She froze as the question chased after her. Warmth flushed her cheeks as she recalled Theron holding her, comforting her. My rock amidst the storm.
Then she remembered his own part in all this, imagined him with the auburn beauty of the princess, the pair of them close, and Theron leaning down to kiss her…
“No,” she said quietly, not daring to look back. “He knows what he’s doing. I’ll see you again when all this is over, I hope.”
Without another word, she turned the corner and started up the street towards the gates of the Sanctum.
Lingering in the shadows across the street, Jenna Frye watched the Daughter that had met with Theron in the tailor’s shop re-emerge from the alleyway. Theron’s servant appeared a short while later and headed in the direction of the Falkenrath mansion.
She lingered, even after both had disappeared from her sight, considering what she had learnt. It wasn’t much, if she was honest. Clearly, something was going on—but then, that wasn’t altogether surprising with a family like the Falkenraths. Much as Iron Hands might protest at the inference, he was still a powerful man and thus as much involved in the politics of the realm as any other noble.
But whose game was he playing—her father’s or the Matron’s? Or perhaps the elder Falkenrath had some other agenda all of his own on the books.
Jenna pursed her lips, considering her options. She could do the diplomatic thing and demand answers from her father and the general. But the king was just as stubborn as his daughter and would likely spend days evading the question, and it could be weeks before she received a response by pigeon from the frontier.
What’s a girl to do?
There was another option of course—go straight to the source. Smiling, she reached into her bodice and drew out the dagger concealed in the cleavage. The razor point shimmered in the moonlight. Most of the court might think the princess was just another pretty face, but she hadn’t always wanted to be a Daughter. There had been a warrior woman in her father’s court when Jenna had been just a child. Years ago she’d disappeared, but not before mentoring the young princess in the way of the blade. Even now, Jenna kept up her lessons with her tutors—maybe that was why her mother so despised her.
But now it was time to put them to some use—and pay Theron Falkenrath a home visit.
Become a paid subscriber to access early chapters of this series, plus many of the other series I have written! You can even take a free 7 day trial to see if my books are for you. You can find my other books on my website.
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.