In the Wake of the Wicked (Veridian Empire #1)

6. Leo

6

Leo

T he tournament had yet to start, and too many bodies were already piling up. Too many emboldened Veridians taking it upon themselves to solve the problems of this empire.

I should know. I was one of them.

I had no qualms with maiming or even killing rash Shifters and competitive highwaymen when they threatened innocent travelers. I just preferred to not have an audience while doing so.

As I hastily stepped into the stirrup and threw my leg over my black stallion, Nightshade, I reminded myself that the woman hadn’t seen my face. Even if she had, she was a foreigner—an Alchemist, surely, by her display of power. But she wasn’t from here; she wouldn’t know who I was. What I was.

That man she was with…he had fallen prey to the Somnivae curse, surely. I would know the signs in my sleep. Guilt burrowed its way beneath my skin, making a home in the crevices of my mind, as it always did.

I grabbed the reins and squeezed Nightshade’s sides. He took off through the night, the breeze knocking the hood of my cloak to my shoulders as we barreled down the familiar, darkened path. With so many hours left until sunrise, I couldn’t stop yet. It was the eve before the tournament. There was plenty of bloodshed to be found in these woods.

Attacks always ran rampant this close to the Decemvirate. I remembered them from the last time, when I was seventeen. Thieves and robbers stranding carriages in the middle of roads, looting travelers from the surrounding provinces. Angry capital natives who despised outsiders—”provincers,” as some called them—and used their intrusion as an excuse to send a message. People hoping to impede opposing challengers to give their province an edge in the competition. The motives for violence were endless.

Needless to say, tension was high, and morals were thrown out the window when magic came into play.

Clucking my tongue, I urged Nightshade faster. I’d already been seen once tonight, and I didn’t need to get caught by the roaming Royal Guards this close to the palace.

The sound of hooves beating against rock reached my ears. I quickly turned Nightshade to the right and into the shadows of a copse of trees, holding my breath and clenching my hand around the hidden pocket of herbs lining my cloak.

The rider came into view, and the sight of the familiar sleek, brown mare and gray mane loosened the weight on my chest.

“Leo, it’s me,” Chaz hissed. “Get out here. I’ve got news from Rissa.”

I tapped Nightshade with my heel and we sauntered out into the dark clearing. Chaz’s gaze met mine as I pulled my hood back over my head. He scratched at the black beard on his chin, the wrinkles on his umber forehead deepening.

“Fun night?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling with humor. I gave him a blank stare, and when his eyes flicked down to my boots, mine followed. Bits of flesh and drying blood graced the tip of the brown leather, white fur sticking to the outside. I must have stepped too close to where the woman had incapacitated the snow leopard Shifter .

I still didn’t know how she’d done that. I’d never seen a spell like it, and I wasn’t easily surprised.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I ignored Chaz’s pointed question. “What’s the news?”

“There’s a band of highwaymen monitoring Westhaven, north of the river. They’ve already attacked two passenger carriages since this morning.”

My jaw ticked. “Drakorum?”

Chaz lifted an eyebrow. “No, it's locals. Why? Have you had a problem with Shifters?”

“Not anymore.” I looked down at my boot again. Everyone was out tonight, it seemed. Natives and foreigners alike, all targeting guests for the Decemvirate, whether they be challengers or not. If I had to guess, the attacks over in Westhaven were simply a way to anger Emperor Gayl. Their message was clear: stop letting everyone cross our borders.

It was a vicious cycle with no end. The provinces needed the Decemvirate to replenish their magic, and the emperor desired it for the economic boost it brought him and Veridia City, but many who lived here resented the influx of people it brought. They didn’t want to compete for resources or dilute the power of the land. So the capital natives took to solving the problem the only way they knew how: attacking visiting entourages with fury. No matter their background, no matter their purpose for visiting. If they were intruders, if they were unwelcome , they had to be dealt with.

I may not be able to do much good here, but I could stop this. I could fight under the shadow of night. I could try to guard the peace of my home, however unstable it may be.

“Do you want me to handle it?” Chaz asked. “I can easily stride over there if needed. You look like you’ve had enough for one night.” He wasn’t wrong—being a Strider with ancestors from Celestria, Chaz could deal with the situation faster than me.

But I was restless. And so, it seemed, were the capital citizens.

“I’m fine,” I responded curtly. “Tell Rissa I’ve got it.” Tightening my hold on the reins, I swung Nightshade’s head to the west, in the direction of the river.

“She’s not particularly happy with you right now,” Chaz called to my retreating backside.

The corner of my lip twitched. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Nightshade and I tore through the night, racing along dirt paths and weaving in between unruly branches. The moon was bright tonight. Bright enough to light the way and leave shadows in our wake, and to make the Alchemist half of my blood writhe with anticipation.

Within twenty minutes, I could hear the rushing waters of the Scarre River, just south of Westhaven, where Chaz had reported the recent attacks. It was a common passing point for travelers coming in from the western provinces of Feywood, Iluze, and Celestria. By this time of night, I would think there would be no more passenger carriages until morning, but with the Decemvirate beginning in a mere twenty-four hours, stragglers were likely. People hoping to catch the festivals at the start of the legendary tournament before touring the capital and then heading back to their respective provinces.

Visitors came and went throughout the month of the Decemvirate. A rare few stayed for the entirety of the event. That was by design—a constant stream of new faces, new magic, and new coin, ready to empty their pockets on the goods of the capital.

I strained to hear hooves on gravel and wheels crunching leaves, but all that came to me was the soft hooting of a nearby owl and wind rustling through branches.

I needed more.

Letting out a sigh, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the other half of my magic, the half my mother possessed.

Slowly, my senses came awake. The once calm breeze now bit into my skin, and the scent of damp moss, sweet wood, even lingering meat and baked goods from the nearest town miles away flooded me. Opening my eyes, I took in the scene with bright clarity: the canopy of trees glowed in a golden haze, the darkened path now alight and focused. I could see each individual twig, each rock, each shadow of a branch.

And there—murmurings muffled by leather and closed doors. Wheels churning on a distant road. The snap of reins and snort of a horse.

“Let’s go, boy,” I whispered to Nightshade, nudging him with my knee and steering him toward the oncoming carriage.

Sure enough, less than half a mile from the unsuspecting passengers, I spotted a group of four figures lying in wait near a fork in the road.

Here in Veridia City, you could never be sure what magic one might possess. We were a conglomerate of magical blood; a rare few held mixed heritages like myself, while most inherited a single type from their parents. Since people from all across the empire had settled here over the centuries, we weren’t bound by a sole brand of magic like the six outlying provinces.

But there was almost always a tell. If one knew what to look for, they could find it.

These four were no different. I swiftly took in the sight: two of them were crouched low to the ground, leaning forward on the balls of their feet, like predators waiting to strike. Shifters .

One was playing with the fringes of his cloak, his fingers twitching at every sound. Alchemist, probably. Preparing to retrieve his stash of charms.

The final one lurked in the shadows of a tree, head tucked low. The darkness seemed to breathe with them, moving and swaying as if it had a mind of its own. Shadow Wielder .

Reaching into the inner lining of my cloak, I placed a pinch of blackthorn ash on my tongue. “ Slentium, ” I muttered, feeling the silencing charm take form around me. Nightshade weaved through the trees until we were at their backs, and I dismounted smoothly, pulling my hood low over my face as I stalked toward them.

“A bit late for a stroll, boys,” I said, letting the wind carry my words .

The four of them spun. The hood of the Shadow Wielder fell and revealed a tall woman with striking silver hair. Shadows collected at her feet as she sneered.

My eyebrow raised. “I stand corrected. My apologies.”

Before they could attack, I slammed my hands together, vibrations shooting up my arm from the rings I wore on my middle fingers. The charm held in the special henbane and amaranth infused rings thickened the air, and I embraced the familiar tightening in my chest as the incantation flowed from my tongue and burst from my hands.

In an instant, all four were on their knees, clutching at their throats as the oxygen left their lungs.

With a gasping breath, the Alchemist reached for his pocket.

“No, you don’t,” I growled, my body reacting instinctively. A long, dark brown tail wrapped around his wrist, yanking it to the ground with a snap . He recoiled and gave a half scream, half choke as my tail retracted and slunk back into the darkness behind me.

“You’re—one of them—” one of the Shifters said through pained breaths.

“So you’ve heard of me.” I flashed a smile from beneath my hood. “Good.”