They'd been sailing for a week.
Kayden stood on the deck, bare forearms resting against the railing. The weather had grown warmer the further south they sailed, almost unbearable compared to Freca's frigid temperatures, and it hadn't been long before she cut the sleeves from her tunic.
The sun had barely risen above the sea at this hour. Even the waves slept, the quietness bringing a calm she hadn't felt in years. The breeze tangled its fingers through her deep brown hair. She smiled to herself as dawn's light kissed her skin. Below her, the water was so clear she could see straight to the bottom where flat, black seastones glimmered.
The ocean was the most lifeless place because of these deadly seastones, but the water itself was also poisonous to any magical mortal that submerged themself long enough. The irony of water wasn't lost on her; it killed, but they would die of dehydration without it. The only thing that truly kept them alive was the fruit from the wearian trees that reversed the effects of the poison—the same trees she was somehow supposed to heal.
Her smile fell.
"What are you doing out here so early?"
Kayden jumped, turning. She hadn't heard Eka sneak up on her.
"I couldn't sleep."
Eka joined her at the railing. "Anxious?"
"You could say that."
"Me too." Eka sighed, looking toward the gentle slopes of mountains ahead.
When Kayden had first come out here, the island was just a speck in the distance, but now they were close enough to spot the red and brown rock of low mountains and the hills of brilliant yellow grasses. From the books she'd read and maps she'd studied, she knew this island to be Treow, a small territory Leodia controlled. The people of Treow hadn't had the means to defend themselves from larger domains, so Leodia had offered protection in exchange for gold.
Eka's verdant green eyes brightened as she took in the sight, any trace of sleepiness gone in an instant. She'd lined her eyes in white makeup paler than her complexion and blonde hair, and Kayden liked it. The curving lines that ended in sharp points gave her a cat-like appearance. A lynx. Paired with her sparkling, silver tattoos, Eka reminded her of winter—of everything familiar when the world around her was all but that.
But with winter came a chill, and Kayden couldn't let herself get too close for fear of seeing Eka's heart freeze over. It would only take a few words to make it happen. The truth of Jesse's death, and everything between them would wither. Spending this past week with her had made it even more difficult, the guilt eating away at her mind until she wanted to spill the truth just to be rid of it, but she couldn't.
Eka reached for her hand, but Kayden pulled away.
The girl frowned. "You know, you've never told me about your scars. It looks like you've fought a hundred wars, but you're too young to have fought in any."
"You never asked."
"Do you want me to?" Eka's gaze traveled over the pink and white scars covering nearly as much space as her tattoos.
Kayden forced herself to remain still under her scrutiny. Usually, her arms were covered due to Freca's cold, away from prying eyes. She didn't mind people looking because she wasn't ashamed, but she didn't want Eka wondering about them. Her scars were not Nila's; they were Kayden's, and Eka could never know that.
"No," Kayden answered, her voice strained as Eka's attention snagged on the large scar near her shoulder—the one she had received the day of Jesse's death. "It's best we don't speak of them."
Eka gave a reluctant nod, and after a while, she left in search of breakfast.
Over the next couple of days, Kayden spent most of her time watching the horizon. Eka joined her on occasion, but Kayden kept their conversations minimal. She thought she'd be happy to have Eka with her, but now she wasn't so certain.
How was she to carry out the assassinations of the generals without Eka suspecting something? Eka knew her as Nila, not Kayden who snuck around, gathering information and completing missions ordered by their queen. Eka would notice her disappearances once they arrived in Leodia. How would she explain it? She had no supposedly ill father to take care of anymore, which was her original cover for her frequent absences. In the letter she'd left, she'd told Eka that her father had passed away a few weeks ago.
Kayden grew more anxious when she caught sight of Leodia. The land loomed ahead, growing bigger and bigger. They would be anchoring on its east coast.
By the time she and the others had set foot on land, the sun had begun to sink below the reddish dunes. Sand blew around her ankles as she bounced on the balls of her feet, testing the dry, foreign ground and admiring the way the sand silenced her footfalls.
From the nearest hilltop, soldiers organized in neat rows emerged. She shielded her eyes from the sun. There were at least three Leodian soldiers for every Frecan, and she took pride in knowing that the strength of a true warrior had not been underestimated.
The Frecans paused, more and more looking toward the procession. Next to Kayden, a man fidgeted, pulling at one of his long curls. The soldiers drew nearer, their armor clanking loud enough to make the assassin in her flinch. Foolish Leodians. If they knew any better, they'd know that silence was the greatest ally and the one to be honored the most.
In the center of the long line, two men sat on dark brown horses, the creatures' muscles rippling with each graceful stride. The pair stopped their horses a short distance from them and signaled for the soldiers to halt.
The younger of the two generals stepped forward. He was stiller than the other soldiers, one hand grasping the saddle reins, the other resting on the hilt of his iron sword decorated in gold designs to match his armored gloves. Engraved into his breastplate was the Leodian crest—a raven. Even his helmet held as much detail, shaped like a bird's head. Two eyes were etched into it, along with a beak that concealed his forehead and dipped down between his eyes. Although his helmet obscured most of his face, gold tattoos adorned his white skin, snaking up his neck and curling along his cheekbones.
The flashy getup repulsed her.
The general removed his helmet, revealing blond hair darker than Eka's. Something about his eyes unsettled Kayden. Maybe it was the way his gaze slid over each of them, cold and calculating. Maybe it was his stare that made her mind feel exposed, or the flicker of chaos behind those pale brown eyes.
Whatever it was, she despised him already.
Frecan warriors squirmed under his scrutiny. The other Leodian soldiers stood behind the general, all wearing identical armor, but some of their swords differed. Most of the hilts were undecorated, but a few had the same gold designs as the general's. Kayden had learned from books that Queen Chhaya honored her best soldiers by having their weapons inlaid with gold.
Many of the soldiers also had no tattoos defining the class and domain they belonged to, which made the few Frecans among their ranks conspicuous with their silver markings. Like all the other Leodians, they showed no emotion as they stared straight ahead.
The unnerving general maneuvered his horse between the warriors and his soldiers.
"Frecans," the man spat. "I am General Ivor. From now on, Leodia is your new—and only—home until your contract expires. Any objections?" He waited for a reaction. The warm air grew thicker as the seconds ticked by. In its heaviness, Kayden didn't dare to breathe.
"Good," General Ivor continued, his words harsh. "Now, kneel and declare your loyalty to Leodia."
Eka obeyed without hesitation, but Kayden took a moment longer before her knee sunk into the sand like the others.
"Let's see our new recruits," a singsong voice came from behind the general.
The rows of soldiers parted, revealing a woman sitting straight-backed on a white horse whose posture was as regal as hers. The woman wore gold armor, a mix of glimmering chain and scale mail with a deep green tunic underneath. Her medium brown skin held yellow undertones and was decorated in gold tattoos of delicate leaves, her short hair showing off the ones that slithered around her neck, where a familiar pendant rested against her breastbone. As the first moon rose behind her, she was a vivid sight against the pale purple skies.
Neither Ivor nor the other general introduced her, and they didn't need to. Everyone across all the domains knew who Chhaya Sarvesh was.
A warrior not far from Kayden whispered under their breath, "Queen Killer."
Ivor stiffened, his brows slightly furrowed as he looked at his queen. Chhaya's expression gave away nothing, but she met his gaze and raised her chin the slightest bit. General Ivor's face turned smooth and expressionless, and he nodded once toward one of his soldiers.
The soldier stepped forward and removed his gloves.
Suddenly, sparks erupted from the soldier's palm, blue flames rushing at the Frecan warrior. Fyra magic.
Screams broke the silence, and the putrid smell of burning flesh filled the air. Kayden didn't even blink at the sight. She'd seen Mother and Malakai do worse, and that was without fyra magic. Eka, on the other hand, squeezed her eyes shut and looked away.
Another reminder of why she needed to distance herself from Eka.
The warrior crumpled onto the ground, throwing her hands up to protect herself as the flames blackened her skin. She writhed, kicking and rolling, and even her sheathed sword melted.
The warrior on Kayden's right yelled, throwing herself between the Frecan and the soldier. Fire continued to pour from the Leodian's palm, but the woman standing in his path stayed where she was, acting as a barrier. She seethed as the flames engulfed her body and burned her clothes, turning the fabric to ash.
But she didn't drop.
Only fyras were immune to fire.
The Leodian soldier curled his fingers into a fist, and the flames disappeared.
Goosebumps rose as Kayden's skin adjusted to the sudden lack of heat.
General Ivor stepped down from his horse and stalked toward the trio. Flames danced on the Frecan warrior's fingers as she shielded the burned woman.
"If you want her to live," General Ivor said to the fyra, gesturing at the woman who lay curled up on the sand, "you will not fight."
The flames shrunk back into her skin.
"Good," he said quietly. He knelt beside the injured warrior, his fingertips brushing against scorched flesh.
Then, before anyone could react, he unsheathed a dagger and plunged it into the warrior's heart.
The fyra who had defended the warrior opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, General Ivor's blade cut across her throat with an accuracy that impressed Kayden.
The fyra dropped to the ground, brown hair fanning out around her as her eyes dimmed, but her mouth remained open in a half-scream.
The other warriors stared at General Ivor in disgust and terror, but Kayden watched him with fascination, scanning his face for any reaction. His gaze, empty of remorse, remained on the bodies for a little longer than necessary. That pause told Kayden that he wasn't following orders to a fault like Malakai often did—there was some recognition of his actions.
In her experience, those who followed orders without hesitation tended to be fearful of their queen or self-absorbed in rising in rank. She was the former and Malakai was the latter, but General Ivor struck her as neither. Pairing this with how swiftly he had eliminated those warriors, it was safe to say he was dangerous. He was right-hand dominant. His stance was strong, each move deliberate.
Kayden looked forward to the challenge of killing him.
Ivor's expression remained cool and unconcerned as his attention returned to the new recruits. "We do not take kindly to those who disrespect our queen. She is gracious enough to allow you to work in her service. Remember that." He mounted his horse. "Now rise."
Kayden rose from the ground with the others.
Chhaya studied the Frecans without a word, occasionally giving a slight nod or a small smile to a warrior. As she passed on her horse, Kayden got a closer look at the queen's pendant. The curling design raised on the royal green stone was just like the one Mother always wore.
Once Chhaya reached the spot where the two corpses were, she said, "May you fight again."
Kayden bristled. Those words were Frecan ones, often uttered to their dead loved ones before their souls ascended to the Above. The queen had no right.
Chhaya turned her back on the fallen warriors and gestured toward Ivor. "Take the new soldiers to the barracks." She glanced at the older general. "General Heidrich, have the riperas collect the bodies. I want them out of my sight."
General Heidrich took off over the hill.
Addressing the Frecans, Ivor said, "You will be staying at the barracks near the Old City. Follow me and keep up. If you don't..." He looked pointedly at the corpses, then steered his horse toward the hill. His soldiers followed in perfect synchronization as Chhaya led the way in front of their procession.
Kayden fell in line with the others. Some warriors shot each other glances, but nobody said a word. Behind her, the coastline faded and the Frecan ships were now gone in the horizon.
She'd heard of Leodia's advancements and innovations, and she'd even seen drawings of them on rare occasions, but still she doubted such things could exist. Cobblestone streets, wagons large enough to transport cattle, apartment buildings that were four rooms tall, glass windows, oil-burning lampposts, and much more. Although people often told stories of Chhaya's history as the Queen Killer, Kayden had also learned stories of Chhaya's endless curiosity. Each year, she introduced more inventions to make life easier for her people.
But as they neared the walled city and passed under its massive gates, Kayden realized all the stories were true. The city of Lihtan had been built when Chhaya began her reign centuries ago. There were cobblestone streets after all, and they were relatively flat, simple to walk over. It reminded her of the worn pathways of Clifftop Road in Freca. Tall, wooden poles held bright lanterns high above their heads, illuminating the streets where vendors packed up their stalls. A few people pulled small wagons of fresh fruit. The sweet, sugary scent made her mouth water as she passed by.
And the buildings—she tried not to look too impressed by them. Their sandstone walls towered above her, stained a brilliant orange. Silhouettes of people moved within glinting windows. The view they'd have... She itched to scale the tallest of the buildings, her eyes already tracing invisible paths, noting ledges and footholds.
Kayden ignored the stares and whispers from the Leodian citizens as their procession continued on. When they reached the highest point in Lihtan, her jaw almost dropped at the sight of the palace. It was much more elegant than Freca's, with decorative spires and no bridges connecting the many narrow towers. Instead of a fortress, it looked more like an artist's fragile masterpiece, the sandstone stained blue. She didn't know how it was possible, especially in a desert, but somehow elegant waterfalls spilled from the palace into the mortal-made river below it.
Queen Chhaya departed for her palace. Lanterns hung between the sandstone pillars, illuminating the walkway around the perimeter and the soldiers patrolling it. Gardens of bushes trimmed to perfection decorated the sides, their leaves emitting a golden glow. Freca had torbit trees whose purple leaves glowed, but these strange Leodian plants felt more magical.
Ivor led them out of the southern gate of Lihtan. Kayden's breath caught at the sight of the Old City in the distance. The Old City was even more beautiful than she had imagined. It was built around the wearian tree—the only other left in the world besides Freca's dying one.
The tree was guarded by a fortress around its base. Branches stretched toward the skies like thick, gnarled fingers. Its large leaves were a deep violet. From this far away, she couldn't see the pale wearia fruit. People ate wearia at least once a year to counter the effects of the poisoned waters. With her healing magic, Kayden had never needed it.
The longer she studied the wearian tree, the more dead branches she noticed. As the sun dropped, the bright greens, deep blues, and warm purples of dusk darkened, the wearian tree's silhouette reaching for the stars. The first and largest of the red moons was now joined by a second, smaller one. Beyond the Old City, to the very edge of the horizon, stood mountains taller than Treow's. Between those mountains and the city stretched a barren expanse of desert.
As they descended the hill toward the Old City, the roads transitioned from cobblestone to hard-packed sand. The barracks consisted of at least a dozen large buildings off to the side of the training field. The roofs were steep, the buildings narrow and long. A lantern burned above each entrance.
Ivor unmounted his horse and led them inside.
Kayden was the last to enter. The black curtain in the entryway swooshed back in place behind her. It was unbearably hot. Already, her tunic stuck to her back. The heat outside wasn't pleasant, but this... She pulled her long ponytail to the side, exposing the back of her neck in an attempt to cool off.
When Ivor moved toward the back of the room, the Frecans spread out a little more. Bunk beds lined the walls, and small tables were tucked in the tiny spaces between the bunks, a candle lit on each one. Frecans unfamiliar to her occupied some of the bunks, their weapons and Leodian armor propped against the tables and walls. Even a few Leodians stood in the mix, but none of them paid them any mind.
Except for one.
The Leodian wore a pink cropped tunic with the hem frayed. A belt looped around her dark gray pants, a black-bladed dagger tied to her hip. The girl couldn't have been more than a year or two older than her. Brown, curly hair framed her heart-shaped face as she watched the new recruits, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her toned arms were crossed over her chest as she leaned against the post of her bunk, one leg crossed in front of the other.
The girl's eyes locked on hers. The soldier smiled, one corner of her mouth rising higher than the other.
The confidence emanating from the Leodian girl sparked a memory of someone Kayden had once known well. Her stomach twisted, and she turned her focus back on Ivor.
As the general told the new recruits that this building was their new living quarters and when they would begin training, Kayden studied him. His sword was sheathed, and there was a dagger attached to his belt.
When Ivor left, she checked him over once more in case she'd missed any concealed blades. He wore no wrist sheaths, and his boots weren't tall enough to conceal any long daggers. Finished with the quick assessment, she moved toward an empty bunk. A light breeze drifted in from the dozen or so windows along the back wall, but it didn't stop the sweat from dripping down her forehead.
Using the hem of her tunic, she dabbed away the sweat, cursing Nessa—goddess of miracles—for the lack of snow in Leodia. She removed her belt, tossing it to the foot of her bed, along with her sheathed sword. She unstrapped her combat axe from her back and dumped it, but it still didn't help much.
Kayden wanted to get out of here, explore the city and gather intel, but it would look too suspicious if she took off so soon. Instead, she slumped onto her bunk. To distract herself from the heat getting to her head, she opened her journal to the blank page where she'd tucked a pencil and began sketching General Ivor.
After a while, a horn blew somewhere in the night, two deep, drawn-out bellows. She tilted her head, listening. After a heavy pause, another two blows disturbed the silence. The sound crawled under her skin.
"It's the riperas."
Kayden glanced up.
The Leodian girl who had smiled at her earlier sat on the bunk across from her. The girl continued, "They blow the horn twice for each death. Happens at least once every time new Frecans arrive."
"What a thoughtful way to welcome us."
As the girl grimaced and stammered for the right words to say, Kayden noted the gold tattoo that wrapped around her left bicep. It wasn't as big or intricate as Ivor's or Chhaya's—just a design that looked like sea waves, but the only other people she noticed with gold tattoos had been Chhaya and the generals. Maybe this girl's rank was higher, but not quite up to general status.
The Leodian recovered, gesturing toward Kayden's journal. "Are you an artist?"
"Somewhat." Kayden went back to sketching Ivor's face but added, "It helps pass the time."
"What are you drawing?"
"Nothing."
"Can I see?"
Kayden raised an eyebrow. "Are you always this curious?"
"Only when I'm talking to a pretty soldier. Or trying to, at least." She sighed. "You're not making it easy."
Kayden wanted to roll her eyes. She didn't have time for this, but then again, if this girl's gold tattoo was an indicator of her rank, she could be useful.
Closing her journal, Kayden asked, "What's your name?"
"Thought you'd never ask." She stood, sticking out her hand. "I'm Zara Tait."
Kayden shook her hand. "Nila Stone. Nice to meet you." She found it peculiar that Zara's forearms were wrapped with bootlaces. "Are the bootlaces some sort of fashion statement?"
Zara grinned. "Something like that."
"It's an interesting touch."
"Thanks." Zara glanced at the journal Kayden held and the pencil marking the page she'd left off on. "Well, I guess I'll let you get back to your drawing."
Before Kayden could reply, Zara walked away, tossing her curls over her shoulder. The girl made it halfway to the door before looking back. "I'll see you at training."
And with that, she stepped out into the night.
Kayden stared after her, her stomach lurching again. She knew why Zara's confidence felt so familiar now. It was similar to Jesse's. When she had met Jesse, it was he who'd introduced himself first with a sly grin and a twinkle in his eyes.
Eka sat beside Kayden on the bed and said, "Well, that was quick."
"What?"
"You do know you have that effect on people, right?"
Kayden looked at her, expression blank.
Eka rolled her eyes. "You know what? I take it back. You're hopeless."
*
After finishing her quick sketch of General Ivor, Kayden headed out. The third moon had risen by now, casting a reddish glow like dying embers over the Old City. Many of the massive wearian roots that poked out from the land were wider than Bay's Bridge in Freca. Under those roots, and carved between them, were thousands of homes and shops. Thin fabric draped across their entrances, billowing in the breeze. The curtains depicted images of the gods and a few of the goddesses as well. The vibrant colors and intricate stitching was no doubt the work of Brynians, the silver and gold threads woven into the cloth shimmering in the moons' light.
Whereas in Lihtan the citizens had been packing up for the night, the Old City thrived. People of all ages bustled about. A man wearing a light, sleeveless tunic hurried past, his leather sandals well-worn. He ran with a limping gait and disappeared around the corner. Others wore glittering jewelry, their heads held high. They laughed and greeted each other, some playfully punching another's shoulder.
To her right, a few women stumbled out of a tavern with drinks in their hands. The one in the middle hiccuped, conjuring flames from her palm. Her drink turned to fire. Flames caught on the tavern's entrance, the tapestry starting to blacken and smoke. A man ran out with a bucket of water, cursing as he threw it onto the cloth. The women giggled too loudly, their words slurred. The man glowered at the three and pointed away from the tavern.
As Kayden passed beneath a wearian root that jutted high from the ground, forming an arch, she realized her disguise as a common warrior wouldn't help her blend in here. People stared warily; apparently, a Frecan travelling in the city alone was not a welcomed sight. Despite the heat, she paid twenty silver for a thin cloak. The sleeves hid the tattoos on her arms that marked her as a Frecan, and she pulled the hood up to shadow the tattoos on her face. Whenever she passed a lantern, she looked away.
It helped. Nobody watched her anymore.
She took her time exploring the streets. All the while, she searched for Alaric, but she didn't see many other Frecans out at this time. When she came across the busiest streets, she paused at the sight of hundreds of papers nailed to the wearian roots. Reaching out, her fingertips brushed over the faces drawn in charcoal. It reminded her of her journal, but these faces had a lower quality in detail, and beneath each were the words "wanted," "traitor," or "thief." Some had all three, like the sketch of a boy named Tyrus Johan. She guessed his bounty had been posted over a week ago; the parchment was pinned beneath a dozen others and gritty with dust. Sorting through the rest, she hoped to find Alaric's face among them.
No luck.
Empty-handed, she focused instead on noting the shadowed side streets that would serve as great escape routes, and she familiarized herself with navigating the city from above using the wearian root system. She preferred the view from up here. It was like spying from the ledges of Freca's mountainsides, but instead of snow, Leodia had an abundance of dust.
She was about to call it a night and head back to the barracks when a figure caught her eye.
It was the soldier from earlier—Zara Tait.
Zara sat at a round table. She wore a deep blue cloak with her hood up, but from this vantage point, Kayden saw her tell-tale curls spilling out and those gleaming, brown eyes that she wouldn't forget anytime soon. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing the bootlaces on her forearms.
Across from Zara sat two burly men who looked like twins. To the girl's left was an older woman with a shaved head and an expensive-looking chain around her neck. To her right was another woman, maybe a few years older than Zara, wrapping a strip of leather around her knuckles as if preparing for a fight. With whom, Kayden couldn't tell, until the cards were dealt and the pile of coins were pushed toward the twins at the end of the round.
By the look on the younger woman's face, Kayden suspected the twins were cheating. A few more rounds played out. At one point, Zara knocked her drink over just as a man passed by their table. Everyone's attention went to the liquor spilling over the edge, not the bag that the cloaked man deposited beneath Zara's seat. The girl nudged the bag between her feet, but as she shifted it, something fell out.
The unmistakable, shiny, white skin of a wearia glared back at her.
Wearia fruit was heavily regulated to the general population due to the dying trees. It was handed out once or twice a year at most, and only under the supervision of the queen. Freca's wearia distribution was even more restricted, and those who didn't receive wearia died from the poisoned waters.
Something told her that Zara wasn't supposed to have possession of wearia, especially when the girl moved her foot to block the fallen fruit from view. The entire bag was filled with it. Zara never glanced down as another hand was dealt. She folded her cards. When the twin brothers won another round, the younger woman with the leather wrapped around her hands said a few choice words—worse than Frecan sailors—and threw the first punch.
Zara didn't flinch as their card game turned into a brawl. The woman with the shaved head and silver chain stood quickly and downed the rest of her drink before joining in, but Zara grabbed the bag of wearia and walked out of the tavern.
"Hey!" the woman with the shaved head shouted after her. "Get back here, you thief!"
The chain necklace was now around Zara's neck instead of the woman's. Kayden smiled, impressed. She hadn't even seen Zara slip it from the woman's neck, and she'd been watching the entire time.
Zara appeared as if she was about to take off running, but then she paused and did the last thing Kayden expected:
She looked up.
Both of them froze.
How did the girl know? The firelight didn't reach this far, and Kayden was high enough up on the root to not draw attention to herself. She was completely in the dark.
Then Zara darted off into the shadows, and Kayden was left wondering why the beautiful soldier with the gold tattoo was in this tavern in the first place.