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

12. Leo

12

Leo

“ I bet you ten silver coins you can’t knock the apple from that man’s hands,” Chaz said to Horace, nodding at the shiny dart in the latter’s hand. Horace leaned back in his chair and eyed the man with the apple laughing across the bar.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Lark snapped. “You’ll take his eye out.”

“Nah, Horace is a great shot, aren’t you, big guy?” Chaz smacked him on the shoulder.

I snorted. “Not when he’s five ales in.”

“Just for that, I’ll take your bet.” Horace put his hands on his knees and braced himself to stand. Lark’s exasperated sigh made me chuckle.

“Are you not going to stop these idiots?” she directed to Rissa, who lounged in her seat with an arm draped lazily over the back of her chair.

“You’re right. This is ridiculous. Horace”—Rissa lifted a finger to get his attention—“make it twenty coins.”

“You don’t even have twenty coins,” Chaz shot back.

My sister winked at him. “And he can’t make that shot. So I think I’ll be fine.”

Lark gave a disgruntled scoff. “I’m surrounded by children. ”

The sound of laughter and clinking glasses and feet pounding on wood mingled with my friends’ voices as they discussed Horace’s dart-aiming prowess, which soon devolved into his aiming prowess with other things, and the challenge with the apple became long forgotten.

I shook my head and grinned along with them, soaking in the moment of normalcy. Too often, especially as the Decemvirate drew nearer, our nights were spent tracking down potential victims and putting a stop to random attacks on the capital streets. More and more fugitives from the six provinces were seeking the safety of Veridia City as their own borders became too dangerous to live near, only to find capital-dwellers even less welcoming.

I supposed one had to be truly desperate to exchange one hell for another. Either that, or the provincers didn’t know what they were walking into when entering the capital. Didn’t know that true refuge no longer existed in this empire.

Despite the dangers, there were still pockets of happiness to be found. I looked forward to nights like this, where the smiling faces of those closest to me broke through the constant sense of vigilance I carried. Perhaps not family by blood, but family by duty. By choice. I was stuck with Rissa, as she so often liked to say, but I knew I would have chosen her as my sister in any life. There was nobody else I could walk through this dark world with. Nobody else with whom I would have wanted to grieve the loss of our father, care for our sick mother, endure the spite and shame this legacy placed on our shoulders.

Lark came into our lives during one of our lowest points, only three years after our father died and our mother fell ill. Rissa and I were two teenagers trying to take care of ourselves in a city that still believed the curse was Branock Aris’ fault and refused to give our family so much as the scraps from their tables. Lark, in her early twenties at the time, caught my sister stealing food from her bakery in the south sector, and instead of reporting her, offered her a job. The first person to have seen us as something more than our surname, to truly give us a fighting chance at becoming our own people.

It was a gift I could never repay. I didn’t know if Larken Everest quite understood what she did for us that day. What she meant to my sister and me.

Chaz and Horace were later additions to the Sentinels, and while our history may not run as deep with the two of them, I trusted them with my life. Chaz was the son of one of the elderly lord’s on Emperor Gayl’s council, while Horace was a member of the Royal Guard. Two men with everything to lose, who were willing to sacrifice their reputations, their jobs, even their lives for the vision my sister and I had of what this empire could be.

I took another sip of ale, its warmth spreading through me, and snuck a glance at Rissa. She seemed to feel my gaze on her and looked over with that crooked smile, a silent moment of thankfulness passing between us.

The door to the tavern flew open with a bang.

Four huge men in the silver Royal Guard uniform sauntered in, swords clanging in sheaths against their legs. They swaggered toward the bar, gleams in their eyes as they took in the crowd. The din went from raucous and uninhibited to hushed whispers and strained near-silence in a matter of seconds, eyes shifting and spines straightening.

“What are they doing here?” Rissa muttered. Horace and Lark immediately turned so their backs were to the guards, their normally composed features now tight with alarm. If the newcomers were to see them, a fellow member of the Guard and the head architect of the Decemvirate, meeting with a group of strangers in this part of town…

If the hidden marks on Horace’s body were any indication, the Guard didn’t wait to ask questions before doling out punishment.

“How can I help you?” the bartender asked, his voice tense, eyebrows drawn together.

“Oh, why the long face?” one of the guards jeered, planting his hands on the top of the wooden bar. The patrons nearest him leaned away, their discomfort evident even from my seat all the way across the tavern. “My boys and I are just here for a night out.”

“Welcome to the Drakin’s Lair. It’s an honor to serve members of His Majesty’s Guard,” the bartender bit out. I winced at the hint of derision in his tone. With men like this, it was best to hold your breath and lie low. To not draw attention to yourself. That was how you inevitably ended up in a back alley with your face plastered to a brick wall.

“You hear that, Kipper?” The guard turned to the man on his left. “An honor . Is this how you treat those with honor here in the south sector?” He flourished a hand toward the silent bar, the looks of wariness and repulsion staring back at him.

“I would say not, Pax.”

Their dramatic exchange set me on edge. My eyes flitted briefly to Lark and Horace, who attempted to drink their ale casually, keeping their heads facing away from the front.

“Although, wouldn’t have expected much more from the filth down here,” the one called Kipper added with a smirk. “Bunch of province scum.”

A man sitting at a table near them gripped the side of his chair, a movement I wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for my sharpened Shifter senses. The guards honed in on it instantly. Rissa’s quick inhale next to me showed she saw it, too.

“You got a problem with that?” Pax said to the man, tilting his neck. The other three slowly drifted to the table.

The man shook his head. All eyes were on the scene, no longer pretending to keep to themselves.

“He asked you a question,” a third guard said with a sneer, kicking the back of the man’s chair. The action had my legs clenching as I fought the urge to stand. Rissa put a hand on my back, subtly shaking her head.

“No, sir ,” the man said through gritted teeth.

Pax hummed and nodded at the guards to back off, then roved his gaze over the rest of the tavern. People lowered their eyes to their drinks or plates of food. It felt as if the entire building held its collective breath, pressure mounting so quickly I could feel it strain against my skin.

“What are you all looking at?” he barked. “I got something on my face, Kipper?” He turned to his friend, who snickered. Pax continued roaming the tables, taking in the rotted wooden ceiling and the flies buzzing around rusted sconces. Some conversations began to pick up again as people tried to put the guards out of mind, but the voices were stilted. Forced.

Finally, Pax, Kipper, and the two nameless guards made their way back to the bar. “Four of your finest ales,” Pax said to the bartender, who nodded and busied himself with their tankards.

A bit of tension released, and chatter grew again. I turned my head to hear the guards better, seeing my sister brush hair behind her ear to do the same. Leaving now would only make them suspicious, so all we could do was wait it out.

“Say, barkeep, where are you from, anyway?” Kipper asked.

“Here,” he replied briskly.

The fourth guard snorted. “Quite an establishment you have. Been in your family long?”

The bartender slammed four glasses in front of them. “I was born here in the capital, if that’s what you’re getting at. Sir, ” he added, the word practically a hiss.

Pax raised his hands in mock defense. “Hey now, we’re just making conversation. You’ve got nothing to hide, do you, friend?”

“Of course not.”

“Good, good,” Pax said, stroking his dark beard. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Kipper flicked a silver coin onto the bar and grabbed his tankard. When he took a sip, he grimaced. “Tastes like piss.”

“What did you expect down here?” the third guard said with a chuckle that made my teeth grind. “Provincers who don’t have enough magic or coin to wipe their?—”

“I think you should leave.” A chair scraped against wood as the man from before stood, his chest puffed out in false bravado as he faced the four guards.

I closed my eyes and stifled a groan.

Pax’s face broke into a wolfish grin. “Boys, what do we have here?” He strolled to the man, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. “Someone with a pair of balls on them?”

“We’re just trying to enjoy our evening,” the man said, his confidence slipping by the second. “Y-you’re making everyone uncomfortable.”

Pax raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Quick as lightning, he grabbed the chair of a woman in the table next to them, twisting her so she faced him. Her companions gave a gasp of shock at the movement.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Pax leered at her. Eyes wide and frightened, she shook her head.

“And what about you?” The guard clapped his hand down on the shoulder of someone at a nearby booth. They cringed and stuttered a half-hearted “No, sir,” eyeing Pax’s hand as if it were a venomous snake.

“You see?” He turned his attention back to the man still standing. “I think you’re the one making people uncomfortable. Now, we can’t have that, can we?” He nodded to Kipper, who gave him a vile smile. In a single breath, shadows billowed from Kipper’s hands, wrapping around the man and pulling his hands behind his back. He let out a yelp before more shadows stuffed themselves down his throat. His pleas turned into strangled muffles. Two of the guards grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him out the front door, the other pair following close behind. Their victim eyed his friends at his table as he thrashed against his magical bindings, but everyone stayed silent, eyes pinned to the ground.

That was how it was here. You lowered your eyes to escape your shame, praying you never caught the attention of those in power who reveled in the weakness of others.

But not all of us.

Before Rissa could stop me, I slid from my seat and prowled toward the front door, pulling my hood low over my head. My henbane rings seemed to buzz with pent-up energy, as if they knew a fight was brewing.

Slipping out the front door, I followed the sounds of boots and the man’s dull cries until I saw their shadows sneak into an alley down the street from the tavern. A moment later, I heard flesh pound against flesh, and a crack rang through the night.

A growl ripped from me as I swiftly turned down the alleyway. Pax and Kipper were chuckling as one of the other guards lunged, aiming another punch to the man’s sagging face. His mouth and hands were still gagged and bound by shadows, tears and blood falling down his bruised cheek.

Taking a pinch of hellebore root and placing it on my tongue, I quickly brought the henbane and amaranth rings on my middle fingers together and whispered, “ Vellus .”

The invisibility charm worked immediately. The spell pressed on my chest as my body disappeared from sight.

A whimper left the man’s shadowed lips, snapping the last of my restraint. Before the guard could slam his fist into the man’s face again, I darted forward and grabbed his wrist, yanking it back until his shoulder was wrenched out of its socket with a sickening pop.

He staggered backward. The other three guards unsheathed their swords as their eyes scanned the darkness for their invisible foe. Shadows retreated from the man at the wall as Kipper, the Shadow Wielder, redirected his focus.

“Get out of here,” I whispered in the man’s ear. He jumped and let out a cry of surprise, but had the sense not to question his rescue. Pushing off the wall, he stumbled out of the alley, eager to get away from the bloodshed.

“Show yourself, little trickster,” Pax crooned. “Your games are fun, but you’re no match for four of us.”

“Want to bet?” a sweet voice said from behind me. Two small daggers whizzed from the darkness and embedded themselves in Kipper’s thigh and the shoulder of another .

I whirled to find a figure cloaked in burgundy flashing me a crooked smile from beneath her hood.

Shouts rang from Kipper and his companions as the three injured guards struggled to stand, swords abandoned on the ground in an attempt to stem the flow of blood from their wounds. One cradled his dislocated arm against his chest. Pax, the only one left unharmed, snarled in Rissa’s direction.

Fates, my sister was dramatic. Rolling my eyes, I released my invisibility spell and materialized before them. Pax’s gaze flitted back and forth between our hidden features as his fellow guards moaned at his back.

Rissa slowly pulled a third dagger from her cloak and whirled it between her fingers. Lowering her voice into an icy semblance of the woman I knew, she said, “I will give you five seconds to leave this alley before I bury this blade in your skull.”

His jaw twitched, arm flexing as if ready to attack. “The emperor will hear about this,” he said through gritted teeth.

Rissa cocked her head. “Will he also hear how you terrorized a tavern full of people? How you tortured a defenseless man?” She flicked her wrist and Pax flinched as her dagger soared past him, skimming his cheek and leaving a thin scratch. A warning.

“Better get your story straight,” she said. “Our great emperor will never believe you were bested by some low-life, province-loving scum.”

Hatred dripped from Pax’s red features as he stared her down, nostrils flaring. A beat later, he glanced at the other three and stiffly nodded, hauling the guard with the knife in his leg to his feet.

The four of them limped toward us. We backed further into the shadows as they neared the entrance to the alleyway, careful to stay concealed. Pax turned to face us before they disappeared from sight and muttered, “You better watch your back.”

Rissa’s white teeth shone from beneath her hood. “Shouldn’t be a problem. It’s a rather nice back, from what I’m told. ”

As they ambled off into the darkened street, I mumbled, “I had that covered.”

She laughed. “Sure, you did.”

“Always such a show-off.”

We waited several minutes before making our way back to the tavern, which had returned to its normal liveliness.

Nights such as this were common. Especially in the south sector, which was known for its acceptance of provincers. People who “didn’t belong” in the capital.

And every night, I had to remind myself what we were working toward. What this was all for . A better future. A different world. The hope was in our hands—we just had to take it.