Deadwater Kings • Part I ✓

11. DULCE BELLUM INEXPERTIS

"I can go with," Hadrian said. He keyed his voice a little lower for that, aiming for a more mature impression on the woman. It felt strange. And good. "I'm a hunter in training."

Zeke hopped to his feet, clapping his hands together and throwing his gnawed apple core back into the fruit bowl. "That's that! Come on, kiddo, let's see how you are in a fight."

He probably shouldn't let them know how capable he was. Hadrian nodded and stood up, careful under the woman's scrutinizing stare. For a split second, he wondered if she was trans like he was. Magic duly informed him that no, she wasn't. Pity.

"Are we telling Her Majesty?" Zeke chirped.

The woman shook her head, turning on her heel to lead the way. "No. We don't need to."

Hadrian's brow furrowed as he trailed behind the duo.

The Citadel's chain of command was more flexible than he thought. The first impression had Shabina pegged as a monarch, but her proximity to Zeke and the woman's lack of care for reporting to her superiors skewed that.

"What's your name?" the woman asked.

"Hadrian. You?"

"Kiara. I didn't know the huntress had an apprentice." She muttered the last sentence, obviously meaning for him to hear it. The faintly bitter undertone made Hadrian smile.

"Lin's not transparent."

Her silence afterwards curdled his mood. If the residents of the Citadel didn't like Lin, he might have to choose between them.

Lin's knowledge and position were invaluable. Getting information from the hunters was next to impossible for witches.

But the Citadel seemed sympathetic enough. They were a previously unknown party in a small world. If he could convince them to be sympathetic to witches, they would be a formidable ally. He chewed his lip as he walked. Decisions, decisions.

He might just go with Lin because of the gold dust. The humans living at the Citadel deserved to burn for living where they did.

Witches respected and feared the dust. It was the brilliant colors of a venomous animal, the warning sign. It was powerful magic tied to a location.

The site of a slaughter.

He wasn't sure which slaughter, but he was fairly certain Greymark's hunters had done it. Several centuries ago by the look of the place. Lila herself might have had her last stand there.

The mirror room immediately turned into a war room in the small window since Zeke brought him up the stairs.

Ten humans strapped themselves with gear. Their loose but tough-looking clothes were worked through with gold dust, making his jaw tense painfully. Swords and knives slid into sheaths along backs and thighs.

Kiara claimed two scimitars off the table of weapons that hadn't been there before. Across from it, a beautiful garden Hadrian hadn't noticed before. Quite a bit of the Citadel seemed to be made of plants. New ones, by the lack of decaying leaves at their root.

Zeke shoved a heavy jacket into his arms. The sensation of wanting to peel his skin of was not unusual for Hadrian, but he immediately set the jacket down and swiped uselessly at the front of his sweater.

"It's armor." The older man swiveled a spear across the back of his neck, resting his wrists on it. "Protects you from witches and knives, two of the most dangerous things in the world."

"I'll take my chances."

Zeke shrugged, then gestured at the weapons. "Fine but take a weapon. The huntress'll skin me alive if she hears I let you go into a warzone without protection."