Bounty Hunter (The Black Tulip Chronicles #1)

1. Vera

Chapter 1

Vera

Present Day

I smack an errant branch out of my face as I stomp through the forest. An unrelenting drizzle has my boots soggy. My contract was canceled last minute, and instead of moving on to the next job—or heading to Mr. Eddieren, who usually hires me between jobs—I have to take what Tatania, the leader of the Tulips, calls a happy break to attend the ‘yearly required meeting of the Tulips.’ I hear it in her sweet, motherly voice, but she doesn’t know what a stomach so empty it’s collapsing on itself feels like. She’s an elf, a rich one. I’m half-fae, half-human, all-orphan, and I’m poor. I’m a Tulip by blood, part of the exclusive group of women nicknamed for the black tulip emblazoned by magic at the base of our necks. A mark that designates us as protectors and strengtheners of kingdoms. It used to be an honor. A mark that tells the world that we can bridge with a king and combine our powers to protect the kingdoms. Except, no one knows if we can anymore. Even if we could, if people knew we still existed, we would be hated and hunted, just like we were before.

What once was a beautiful stone building covered in green, reaching vines and surrounded by well-kept beds of black tulips appears before me. A long-forgotten building that the forest has decided to overtake and claim as its own. The somewhat majestic entrance still commands, and a now uneven cobbled path leads up to a grand set of stairs that ushers visitors to the pillared doorway. Trees, bushes, and grass now grow where flowerbeds once lay, and invasive tendrils of long, vining plants have attached to the outside of the brick and claimed over half the front wall. The large wood doors are faded, the windows that line the front of the building foggy. A visual representation of the state of the Tulips, unfortunately. I sidestep a stone that sticks up more than the others on my way to the doors. There’s no way this place is still safe, but maybe no one cares since the Tulips are supposed to be obsolete. Before I reach the entrance, a soggy white blur soars toward me through the rain, and I smile, even though I know she’s going to plaster her wet little body to the side of my neck to get warm in the next few seconds. Rupi lands with a flustered flap of soaked wings and a pitiful sounding cheep as she nestles up to my neck.

“You can come,” I tell her, “but stay hidden. No shenanigans.”

Her responding chirp sounds a little saucy.

The handle at the entrance jiggles loosely beneath my grip, and I hope it doesn’t fall off in my hand as I open the resistant door. I step inside a grand main hall with a staircase that splits into two, each curving away from the other and connecting to a landing above. A once-charmed chandelier above hangs dormant. If the door handle hasn’t gotten the attention it needs, I highly doubt the chandelier has either, so I intentionally skirt the hall to make sure I’m not beneath it in case it comes crashing to the ground. The state of disrepair is somber, but I’ve never known it any other way. I pass the stairs, go beneath the landing, and enter the ballroom. I pull my cloak hood down and remove my hair from its messy braid, using it to conceal Rupi’s presence. Tatania would never allow a bird to enter the building. Renna and I jokingly call her the dictator of the Tulips, but it’s more truth than joke—she runs a tight ship.

The entire back wall is a series of floor-to-ceiling windows, two stories tall, that overlook a deep, green-filled canyon. I’ve always found it breathtaking. I imagine the deep green walls of the ballroom adorned with heavy curtains, music filling the empty silence, dimmed lights adding intimate warmth, and dancing couples twirling across the wood floor. It could be beautiful again. But the giant room sits empty except for the seven wood chairs placed in a neat semi circle near one of the back windows. To my left is a fragile-looking wood desk, and seated behind it is Tatania’s ever-joyful assistant, Lillath. She’s not a Tulip, but she’s trusted.

“So glad you’ve made it, and early . If only everyone was as eager as us to be here.” She smiles widely as she passes me a fancy envelope stamped with my name.

Yes, so eager. I put aside my work and am currently starving so I can sit amidst a group of women that pity me. I keep my mouth shut with my lips shaped into a firm sort of smile as I reach into my pack and pull out the money I’ve saved to pay the dues. Precious, hard-earned money. My stomach growls as I stuff it into the envelope and seal it with a somewhat messy blob of wax and my personal stamp. I slide it back across the desk and turn before I do something irrational, like snatch it back and head to the nearest tavern to spend it on a month’s worth of hot meals. But a sated belly would be exchanged for the loss of anonymity that would come from my bracelet lapsing due to lack of payment. Can’t have that .

Lillath busies herself writing something, so I step away to find a seat. Even though I try to step lightly, my boots make loud squishing noises as I cross the dull, wood floor. And unfortunately, as Lillath so happily stated, I’m early. I slump into a seat and try not to care about the puddle of water that is slowly forming beneath my boots as each drip seems to echo across the silent, empty room. I habitually hug the sleeves of the overlarge coat I wear down over my palms and grasp it with my fingers as I cross my arms and wait.

It’s not long before a tall woman in a beautiful sea green gown just a shade lighter than the moody green of the walls around us enters the room, pushing a dainty cart full of tiny, feminine pastries, teacups, and a kettle. A large vase of fake, silky-looking black tulips adorns its center. Another Tulip in a gown just as fine walks beside her. Rupi’s feathers begin to turn quill-like, scratching at my neck.

“Avenera,” Tatania greets me with a smile.

It’s strange to hear my given name—the only ones who use it are those who attend this meeting and Mr. Eddieren, the odd fae who’s a master at potion making that will take my help whenever I offer. I sit up a little straighter in my chair, smile, and give an awkward half-wave. I never know how to be around these people. The woman beside her, Maven, smiles in a friendly way.

The two women wheel the cart to the middle of the semi circle as the rest of the Tulips begin to trickle in at random intervals. Each seals an envelope with the dues and gives it Lillath, as I did on arrival. I watch as Nova, another noble-born Tulip with a willowy frame, hair of spun gold, and clothed in a silky-looking day dress, takes a seat. Nessa, a mild-mannered woman with pale skin that contrasts starkly against her dark brown hair, sits beside her, and they dive into a conversation. Those two have been close since I began attending the Tulip meetings as a young girl. One after another, two more enter, children of wealthy merchants and traders, Fina and Petra. Petra has a flawless, tawny-brown complexion and dresses in the latest fashions. Today is a sage green day dress that even I might wear.

Fina steps into the room with a look to die for. Her dark brown hair is separated into three, thick, intricate braids, and she flashes me a radiant white smile. Her tan skin glows with healthy, sun-kissed color. Leather, form fitting pants hug her long legs, encased in tall boots, and completed with a shirt that blouses out of a cinched waist piece, and which effortlessly emphasizes her bust just enough. I refuse to think of my worn trousers, soggy boots, and man’s shirt that neither clings nor emphasizes anything in a complimentary way. In fact, I’ve been mistaken for a teenage boy on three occasions.

Finally, Renna enters, in a hurry now that she’s late. I watch as she quickly stuffs her envelope and practically tosses it into Lillath’s hands before she walks over with an apologetic look on her face and promptly takes a seat to my left. She’s as poor as myself—I should know since we live together in another city. She’s my closest friend, practically my sister. Before I can ask her how her last job went, Fina takes a seat beside me, graceful and ladylike, but with a touch of danger about her. Last I heard, she’d contracted with a second-born prince from one of the low kingdoms as a ship commander to head their exploration and exporting efforts. I can’t help but feel small beside her.

Tatania stands before the tea cart, her beauty no more diminished than when I first met her fifteen years ago. As an elf, she ages much slower than the rest of us. I can’t decide if that would be a blessing or a curse .

“Welcome to our annual tea, Tulips. I have so missed your presence over the last year. Let’s begin with Nova and update everyone on our current accomplishments, shall we?” She gestures to the first woman to her left, and she begins.

Our magic seems to have a taste of all the factions within it, which means as Tulips, we can choose which faction to mask ourselves with. Most of them, like myself, act as Originators since they are our closest match, though all but Renna and I have permanent positions originating lucent magic for healers, weapon charmers, and builders. We’re too poor to be chosen for permanent, prestigious positions such as those. Nova has chosen to work under the guise of a hunter, working with animals and training. They make good money since they’re rare. All of them have perfectly respectable and appropriate work because they’re nobles. And now it’s my turn.

Every year I botch my work description, but I’ve been rehearsing a little, and I think I’m better prepared this time. “I am still working with all five kingdoms’ government offices apprehending criminals for reward. Mostly Class B and C, rarely Class A. Class A is pretty dangerous, so I usually avoid assisting with those.” I realize I’m saying too much and finish up quickly. “I work with healers sometimes, too.” I laugh a little. There. That was professional. At least, I think it is until I see the other women’s faces.

They blink at me, some look at me oddly, unable to comprehend what my jobs actually entail. Renna offers a supportive smile, but of course she would. I pretend to miss the flash of pity that crosses Nova’s eyes because I hate it—the others have varying looks of distaste at the thought of my choice of work or open mouthed looks of genuine confusion over why I would ever choose to do what I do. I don’t blame them—they don’t understand. Not only are the majority of the Tulips not forced into the working class because of their upper class birth, but working with bounty hunters is a unique job choice for a woman who isn’t of the hunter faction. Especially a woman of my small size and who is untrained in weapons. But they are all wealthy nobles, which makes it much easier to get a permanent position for respectable work with healers, builders, and weapons masters, if they so choose. Those like Renna and I, poor lower class citizens, are forced into contract work, usually in hunting positions, jumping from job to job to survive.

Fina looks at me thoughtfully, and I’m glad that at least there’s no judgment in her eyes. I resist the urge to defend myself, knowing it will only worsen their opinion. So, I seal my lips shut and let Renna stumble through her own awkward update, mentioning how she’s taken a contract position as an Originator for a Lucent River captain. I force my cheeks not to burn for her. It’s the one Originator position most would never want. The Lucent River is more gloam than lucent and very dangerous to travel regularly anymore.

Tatania must sense the tense vibes and quickly invites us to taste the delicate pastries as she serves tea. I waste no time filling my plate, and soon, the awkwardness around Renna and I’s choice of work has cooled, and Tatania begins again.

“As our leader, the eldest of our group, I recognize that it is my honor to protect you as best I can.” Her eyes scan the seven of us still seated. “I have heard nothing of concern, but as always, please keep your marks hidden and your chosen status as a Tulip a secret. It is for the protection of us all.”

Here begins the annual reminder. I honestly don’t know why we have to go over this every time. Tulips are obsolete, and no one really knows about us anymore, or cares for that matter. Being a Tulip no longer brings honor and prestige. The last time a Tulip bridged was over two hundred years ago. And to top it all off, we pay for the protection and anonymity magic offers. The cost alone should save me from another torturous lecture, but it won’t. So, I fill my plate again, force a pleasant look onto my face, and settle into my hard, edgy chair.

“Never trust the kings.” Tatania’s light blue eyes turn frosty. “Many, many years ago, the High King approached Lucentia, the gifter of magic. Such a worthy man was he that she allowed him to find her field of Tulips and even granted him entrance to her very presence. And here is where our account differs from the royals.” Her voice lowers in a dramatic, ominous fashion. “Lucentia gifted that king and the kings thereafter the Tulips.” Her gaze crosses the room, touching on each of ours in the silence. I stop chewing the buttery biscuit in my mouth momentarily. It just doesn’t seem right to be eating biscuits and pastries with so solemn a mood. But I had to punch another hole in my belt and cinch it tighter two days ago. I can’t afford to not eat when it’s offered.

Her gaze moves on, and I continue chewing.

“For many years, the High Kings married and bridged with Tulips, ensuring the strength and balance of lucent magic across the kingdom. The kings connected to this very kingdom, and the Tulips ensuring that lucent magic stayed lucent. It was a happy, peaceful time.” She smiles as if she were alive then, remembering it fondly. “Then the Originators became jealous, specifically one, Sorana. She claimed that a powerful seer had seen a Tulip bridging with an ancient enemy, resulting in the kingdom being overtaken with gloam and destroyed. What had always been seen as a benefit, our ability to bridge and offer more magic, became the basis of her turning the kings against us. She twisted history and manipulated their minds so thoroughly that soon the Tulips were hunted down and murdered, so dangerous they were said to be.” Her voice turns light and wispy, “So detrimental. So useless.” Tatania’s eyes grow sorrowful. “Because the kings grew so unworthy, hunting us down instead of offering protection, magic no longer sent Tulips powerful enough to bridge. It was many, many years before another Tulip was born bearing the mark of Lucentia herself, the Black Tulip—it was, in fact, me. We assume there is still no king worthy enough and not one of us has shown signs of having the vast power needed to bridge.”

She looks around the room. “Our power with lucent magic was more powerful than the most powerful Originators in the kingdom. To my knowledge, none of us bears that amount of magic.” She looks around the group, and the other women shake their heads.

I continue chewing.

“So, though we bear Lucentia’s mark, we do not appear to have the power our earlier Tulips had. While it would be quite miraculous if one of us was able to bridge at all, we still take precautions so we are not hunted and killed.”

She continues, but I try with very little effort to keep my attention tuned to her lilting voice. I’ve heard the history of the Black Tulips at least fifty times. It’s a tradition to share the story and all its warnings every year. Just in case one of us happens to forget not to bridge, I suppose. Or like they fear we might trip and find ourselves accidentally bridged with a king. I pick up a fluffy, scone-like pastry next. In addition to the bracelet we pay dearly for, Tatania says our magic isn’t even strong enough to bridge. I trust her, so I continue to eat and think about my next contract.

Tatania is still talking, and I realize I’ve devoured a ridiculous amount of pastries and at least three cups of tea. A testament to my lack of concern over this issue and my ravenous appetite. In my entire twenty-six years, I’ve never met the High King or seen him, and even if I did, he would never recognize me. Thank you, magic bracelet . And if he did see me, he’d probably think I was a boy. Thank you, raggedy men’s clothing. I sip my tea tartly in my baggy shirt. I think the chances are pretty slim this is any sort of concern for us with the precautions we take and the apparent weakness of our magic anyway. Right now, food tops my list of priorities, but the other women sit uptight and still, concern creasing the corners of their eyes.

“In closing, we all wonder, and I’m sure you have observed, that magic has yet to add a truly magic-gifted, powerful Tulip to our group in many years. See it as a positive.” She smiles comfortingly. “The only reason Tulips were so powerful before is because the kings were worthy of them and the close proximity and working partnership between kings and Tulips fostered strong magic. Until they change their ways, Lucentia, our wise gifter of magic, will not send one powerful enough to bridge.”

A few of the women nod, nervous. This topic is always uncomfortable for them.

“I do encourage you to find a nice man and marry, as it will protect you from any future attempt by the king to force us into servitude again. They can’t very well bridge with a married woman.”

A great reason to marry . I drain another cup of tea.

“Now remember that Tulip dues are to be paid by the last day of the sixth and twelfth months, or the protections of your bracelet will lapse. I see you’ve all paid today, so your bracelets are in service and will continue to be. You are safe.” She holds out her hands. “Let us finish with our precious oath. Stand with me, Tulips.”

We all rise and begin at the same time, our voices echoing against the walls of the bare room as one .

“We will never remove the bracelet and will always pay our dues on time. We will never reveal our Tulip identity. We will never work with soldiers, armies, or kings in any way. We will always attend the annual meeting. We will never bridge with a king.”

In the silence, Tatania’s smile grows wide. “I will see you all next year. Stay safe, Tulips.”