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.
Repositioning herself on the concrete edge for what had to be the hundredth time that day, Kaila took another peek through the strange device Theron had called a spyglass. It confirmed the crown prince of Fresia was still seated safely at his desk. Gritting her teeth, she rose and paced another lap of the rooftop.
She had found this little nook on her first day scouting his apartment, after revising every document and note Ambrose’s people had collected about the prince. Which wasn’t much, just that Rohan had left the Magisterium the day after his Trials, moving to the merchant quarter to live alone. He only had a few servants and no personal guards—though the building boasted a platoon that kept watch day and night.
But despite her early success, a week had now passed and the sun of another day was settling into the ocean behind her, and the only thing Kaila had learned about Rohan Frye was that he was quiet possibly the most boring man in Tah’raus. Most days, he didn’t even leave his penthouse. Hell, he’d barely left his desk long enough to eat a meal today.
Unlike Theron’s plan to win the hand of the princess, she had no means of integrating herself into his life. That was just fine by Kaila. Her skin still crawled at the memory of Eamon pressing his lips against hers—and he had only been a minor noble. How much worse must be a prince, with all the privileges afforded to his birth?
Despite his severance with the Magisterium, Rohan lived in one of the most opulent buildings in the merchant quarter. It was a modern tower of concrete, glass and agimet, and his fifth-floor penthouse was the most extravagant of all. It had floor-to-ceiling glass windows and the latest agimet machinery, much of which Kaila could only guess at its purpose. A broad balcony wrapped around the entire floor, though the dome of the Sanctum would mar his view across the harbour.
Her spy nest had been afforded by a building across the street, where an old warehouse stood abandoned. From the soot staining its walls, Kaila thought it had once been a coal store. There were people living inside now, but disguised as a beggar, she had passed amongst them without drawing attention. Rohan’s penthouse was two storeys higher than the rooftop of the warehouse, but its enormous windows still afforded her views directly into his study and dining chambers. She had taken up residence in the hope of learning something about his interest in the throne.
Instead, she’d spent a week watching the man read. Day after day, night after night, each passing hour more painstaking than the last. The only breaks to her monotony were in the evenings after the prince retired, when she would meet Theron in one of Ambrose’s shops. They were using it as a base of operations, since she could hardly show up on the doorstep of the Falkenrath mansion dressed as a vagabond. The shop had a hidden basement where they could practice with her Gift. Moving things. Deflecting projectiles. She was getting better, slowly, though her shoulders ached from last night when Theron had thrown her into a wall. He claimed it had nothing to do with the night before, when they’d gone up to the rooftop to practice lifting each other and she’d accidently launched him into the sky. At least she’d caught him!
Tonight, however, she wouldn’t even have the pleasure of his company. After a week spent preparing his credentials and cover story with Quintin and Ambrose, Theron would be attending his first ball at the Sanctum, where he hoped to make his introductions to the princess.
Her stomach twisted, a sick feeling gnawing at her insides. Clenching an old iron bar sticking out of the rooftop, Kaila tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. This was all part of the game. Theron was just a character, like she had played with Eamon. And the princess was only a means to an end. Whatever passed between them meant nothing.
Unfortunately, knowing that was one thing, convincing the knot of muscles in her chest of that much was something else entirely.
Twisting her fingers in her frazzled hair, Kaila growled and rose to pace the rooftop some more. The prince remained at his desk, reading over a book thick enough to serve as a doorstop. What was on those pages that he found so much more interesting than the delights Tah’raus could provide? The spas and the markets, the shows she had seen plastered on walls outside the theatres, the jesters who performed in the great plazas—or even the less savoury entertainments enjoyed by some amongst the nobility. Rohan Frye could have done anything.
Instead, he chose to remain in his apartment all day and read. Kaila had enjoyed many of the books Sister Eurador had given her, back when she believed the stories spun by the Magisterium. But this was something else entirely. An obsession.
Settling herself back on the ledge, Kaila removed her dinner from its paper bag. Today she’d brought sandwiches from a vendor down the road, trading a lump of coal for the meal. It was a common currency amongst the disenfranchised in Tah’raus. While merchants and the nobility traded in gold and gemstones, the common folk were given ration chips that could only be used in official offices. Yet another way the Magisterium kept the populace under their thumb.
But for every law in Tah’raus, there were those willing to break it. So long as they didn’t make any noise, stalls like the sandwich maker seemed to be tolerated.
The rumble of a carriage in the street below interrupted Kaila’s thoughts. She darted back to the edge of the rooftop, but only caught a glimpse of blonde hair before the guards ushered a young woman through the front door. She frowned as the carriage drew away. It was probably nothing, just another resident returning for the evening.
Then she glimpsed movement in the penthouse apartment. The prince had risen from his desk. Rather than stairs, the building had one of the new elevators Kaila had seen in modern buildings, but her vantage point didn’t give her a view of the doors.
Her blood began to race. Did the prince actually have a visitor? Curious, she watched him move into the dining room, where his personal servant was busy setting two places at the table. He did! Though taking his seat, the prince did not wait for their arrival, gesturing for his manservant to fetch his food. By the time the blonde woman stepped into the room, he already had a fork to his lips.
The newcomer froze as she entered the apartment, and even from the awkward angle, Kaila could see her confusion. The distance and the reflection on the glass obscured the young woman’s face, but she must have said something, for the prince made a gesture without even looking up from his meal.
Everything from the prince’s posture to his discourtesy suggested he wasn’t at all happy to have a visitor. Kaila wouldn’t have been surprised if the woman simply turned around and walked back into the elevator.
But if the prince was opposed to her presence, the young woman must have been equally determined to make the most of her visit, because after a few seconds hesitation, she slid into her chair. The servant had set the two at opposite ends of the long table, which made for a slightly humorous sight.
As the woman took her place, however, there was something about the way she moved that snagged in Kaila’s thoughts. Frowning, she leaned closer, trying to work out what had drawn her attention. The few inches did little to help with her view, but she did catch the glint of gold about the woman’s neck.
The breath caught in Kaila’s throat.
The prince’s visitor was a Daughter of the Magisterium!
She scrambled for the spyglass, which lay forgotten alongside her. Maybe her presence here wouldn’t be a complete waste after all! If the prince was treating with a Daughter, did that mean he was making a move for the throne after all?
When she pressed the spyglass to her eye, the apartment appeared blurred. She quickly twisted the cylinders and the lenses inside shifted. It took a few adjustments before she got it right. She focused first on the prince. Her stomach rumbled as she saw the plateful of meat and roast vegetables set before him—the meal put her miserly sandwiches to shame. Though maybe she should spare a thought for the Daughter, who had only been served a sparse plate of what looked to be pea soup. Shifting the lens, Kaila focused on the woman’s face…
And felt her heart stop.
For the longest time, she just stared at the building across the street, where the prince of Fresia dined with a Daughter of the Magisterium. The woman was saying something now, though of course Kaila could not hear what was said. She doubted she would have heard even had she been in the room. Blood pulsed in her ears, sucking the sound from the world until only the screaming in her mind remained.
She knew this Daughter.
It was Eliza, her old rival from Elgoss.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The last thing Sister Eurador had done was send Eliza off to the capital to become a Daughter. Kaila had even pretended to be the girl just a few days ago, when wooing that fool Eamon.
But seeing Eliza here, in the flesh in Tah’raus, dining at the table of a prince, it struck Kaila like a brick to her face. Even after everything that had happened in Elgoss, a part of Kaila had still preserved an image of the village in her mind. Of a peaceful people, innocents turned slaves by the lies of the Magisterium. It wasn’t their fault what had happened to her, no more than it was Theron’s or her own. It was the Magisterium. The Sisters and the Wardens and nobility that controlled them all.
But here was the lie to her fantasy; proof that at least someone in Elgoss had known what was happening.
Eliza Wrenn was here.
Her anger, always simmering so close to the surface nowadays, thrummed in her skull, the embers that had slowly built over the past months roaring into an inferno. It stained Kaila’s vision scarlet.
Crack!
She gasped as the spyglass snapped in two and shards of glass sliced her palms. Trembling, she let the device fall and stared at her hands. Blood welled there, the pain following slowly, radiating out through her flesh. The shaking wouldn’t stop, the roaring, the anger and the fear and doubt. It was like learning the horrible truth all over again.
Lies upon lies.
Eliza had known. She had to have known. Her father was the Earl. They controlled the flow of agimet out of the village. How could Eliza have watched while everyone she had ever known sacrificed their lives for a lie?
Kaila couldn’t have said how many hours passed while she crouched on that rooftop watching the pair. All she knew was that eventually the dinner ended and the prince returned to his book. Eliza lingered a while, seemingly intent on making conversation despite the prince’s obvious disinterest, and then…
…the next Kaila knew, there came a bang of the doors below as the Daughter erupted from the front doors of the apartment building. There she paced, the tap-tapping of her heels against the concrete street loud even from the rooftop above. She kept on like that for a few minutes, casting glances up the street on occasion in search of her carriage, until deciding she’d waited long enough.
Kaila blinked the scarlet from her vision as the young woman set off down the street on foot. Eliza Wrenn. Her once upon a time friend. Her enemy.
Suddenly, Kaila was moving. Before she even knew what she planned, she was slipping into the stairwell of the old warehouse and descending to the street. Her heart was racing; Eliza was her last connection to Elgoss. She had to see her, if only this one last time. To look into the eyes of the evil that had consumed her entire life.
Lost souls watched her from the shadows as she dashed through the warehouse, but they made no move to intercept her. And then she was outside.
The street was empty.
No, no, no.
Eliza couldn’t be gone. Kaila needed her to know. To understand what she had done to her, and her father, and Leonardo, and Caellum, and everyone else in Elgoss.
Eliza needed to pay for the lives she had destroyed.
She spun around, looking one way, then the next—and from the end of the street she caught a glimpse of blonde as someone turned the corner. Kaila didn’t hesitate. Fire burned inside her as she reached for her crystal, atar filling her veins. The glow of her eyes cast back the darkness, glinting against the shadows.
Heart pulsing, Kaila raced after her nemesis, Theron’s instructions and all his words of caution, the entire plan, forgotten.
She couldn’t stand by while this ghost from her past slipped through her fingers, while Eliza got to live her dreams and be a Daughter, to enjoy a life of luxury while everyone else back home suffered.
While Kaila suffered.
She still didn’t know what she planned to do as she chased her old nemesis down the street—only that she couldn’t do nothing.
To say Eliza was irritated as she left Prince Rohan’s apartment would be an understatement. Her jaw ached from clenching it so tightly and only an imbecile could have missed the rage conveyed by her various sighs, tisks and clearing of her throat throughout the dinner.
Which meant the prince must be an imbecile, for he hadn’t picked up on a single signal.
Now as she stalked through the streets of Tah’raus, too irked to wait for her carriage, Eliza was already steeling herself for the wrath of Sister Vera. She should have listened to the other Daughters when they’d tried to warn her off the prince and his frustrations. But Eliza didn’t have options like the other Daughters, most of whom hailed from Tah’raus or others of the great cities like Bermish or Rivergate. Their families had real power to trade, while Eliza was from a tiny village in the middle of the Iron Pinnacles that didn’t even exist anymore…
Fire burning in her eyes, she came to a stop in the middle of the street. No, she couldn’t think about that. She needed an explanation of her failure for Sister Vera. It seemed like nothing she did was ever good enough—not how she ate, or sat, or curtsied. Even how she spoke was apparently wrong. She had more marks against her name than all the other newly anointed Daughters combined. The other girls were already calling her barely a Daughter—some even to her face.
So when the Matron herself had called on suitors for her son, Eliza had been one of the few Daughters desperate enough to take a shot. And now…
The breath hissed between her teeth as she started walking again. The First Matron could damn Rohan Frye to the pits of hell for all she cared! Who did he think he was? A private dinner with a Daughter was meant to be a privilege—and he’d started eating before she even arrived! The nerve! Any other man and she could have had his name forever tainted in the records of the Magisterium.
Instead, it was her who must go crawling back to the Sanctum to explain why she had failed to lure the estranged prince back into the fold.
Seriously, who couldn’t even take a few minutes to chat about the weather? The ever-changing climate of Tah’raus was endlessly fascinating compared with Elgoss, where the sun shone three hundred and twenty days of the year. Not that Rohan Frye would know anything about that, locked away in that penthouse with his books.
Though that wasn’t far from the life Eliza had lived in Elgoss after her parents had decided she should become a Daughter.
Another tremor rippled through Eliza’s gut. Her parents. Her home. Elgoss. She’d never thought she would miss it. Her eyes lingered on the lanterns that lit the streets. Agimet. Her parents had explained the truth about the crystals the night before she’d departed Elgoss. How it was used in the great cities to create wonders. How the Magisterium controlled its supply, using it to control the Dominances and maintain the pact that had held humanity together for centuries.
There had been a certain sense to those words, at least at first, when she’d still been high in the mountains of the Iron Pinnacles. But now she had witnessed the miracles performed by the crystals, the life it granted those in the capital, the extravagance and the excess, Eliza couldn’t keep a seed of guilt from taking root. There was just so much. Surely some could have been spared so those back home didn’t go hungry…
I have no home anymore…
She felt a tear streak her cheek and angrily batted it away. Bad enough she would appear before Sister Vera a failure; she would not ruin her mascara as well.
As her legs began to ache, Eliza paused to rest. Back in Elgoss they had walked everywhere and the steep streets had built the strength in her legs—the size of her quads had been yet another complaint by her tutors. But it had only taken a few months with the luxury of agimet powered carriages to lose her fitness.
And of course the high heels didn’t help.
Taken by a fit of impatience, she pulled them off and set off down the street again. The act was strangely liberating, even if it was completely inappropriate for a Daughter of the Magisterium to walk barefoot through Tah’raus, alone, at night. Too bad. Afterall, she was only barely a Daughter.
A sigh slipped from her lips. If only tonight had gone differently. She found her mind returning to the dinner. Maybe if she’d just been a little more attentive, or a little more forward, she might have gotten the prince to open up. That would have changed everything. To be the Daughter that won him over, brought him back to the Magisterium. There were even rumours—
Crack!
Eliza flinched as something shattered against the wall above her head. She cried out as porcelain scattered across the street, the remains of what looked to have been a vase. She was still trying to work out where it had come from when she sensed movement behind her.
Spinning, she found a dark-cloaked figure rushing towards her. Panic left her no time to think—she hurled her shoes at their face. For once her aim was true and Eliza heard a satisfying thump as the ivory stilettos connected with her assailant. She didn’t stick around to find out if they’d done any real damage. Shrieking at the top of her lungs, she took off at a sprint in the direction she hoped was the Sanctum…
…only to find herself suddenly airborne.
For a second, she was too surprised to scream. She hung suspended a few feet above the ground.
Then a snarl came from behind her, and suddenly Eliza wasn’t just floating, but hurtling through the air. This time she did scream as the pavement rose to meet her. Red flashed as she struck and something went crack. Agony followed a few seconds later, a terrible rending in her arm and head.
Footsteps approached. Panic welled in her chest and she tried to lift herself, but her stomach heaved. A moan rasped from her lips as she collapsed.
The last vision Eliza had before the darkness claimed her was of silver eyes and an old friend’s face.
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.
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