Until I turned.
“Enough,” I said, the word quiet but sharp. “Where did you hear this?”
A few of them exchanged glances.
Rumors had already started weaving themselves through the city. I’d seen the way people looked at her during the feast—the curiosity, the speculation. I should’ve known it wouldn’t stop there.
“Who else has been talking?”
“There was a man in town,” one finally said. “Came in this morning with the southern traders. Claimed he was bringing fish up from Synnex. Dressed far too nice to be selling fish if you ask me.”
My jaw tightened.
“He wasn’t selling much,” the boy went on. “Mostly asking questions. Real polite like.”
A pause. “Said he was looking for a friend. A woman.”
My jaw tightened.
“He described her the same way everyone from the feast has,” the boy went on. “Small. Wild hair dark as night. Eyes like glacial ice. A scar across her face.”
“What did he look like?” I asked, my voice flat.
The young guard scratched the back of hisneck. “About as tall as you, sir. Maybe a bit leaner. Tan skin.” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Long dark hair, pulled back real messy. Strong jaw. Brown eyes.”
He shifted his weight, a bit awkward. “Seemed nice enough, all calm and polite. But there was something in his eyes.”
That sounded a lot like the male from her dream.
“Thank you,” I said. “If you see him again, let me know.” I turned and left the guards behind.
In the darker corners of the city, where lanterns flickered low and voices spoke in whispers, my eyes adjusted easily. Vampyres had always belonged to Eryndis. The night called to us as much as the goddess who ruled it did. I still bore the mark she’d carved into her chosen at my throat—a crescent with a dagger through its belly, surrounded by coiling vines.
Kaelith bore her mark once, same as I did. But power does strange things to loyalty. The day he tasted dominion was the day he turned his back on her. And now, he bore every goddess’s mark.
I turned down a side street where the nobles’ homes stood. Each house was a masterpiece in its own right, towering with intricate carvings, domed roofs, and hanging gardens.
The street opened toward the glasshouse district, where residence gave way to regulation.
Lord Ceryn stood at the gate, overseeing Nyxarra’s aqueducts. His family had maintained the city’s water veins for over four centuries, threading river paths through tunnels that kept the mist from growing wild. He wore robes dyed in shimmering pale blue, nodding as I approached.
"Malachi," he said. "You’re escorting us personally?"
"Best foot forward," I replied.
From behind him emerged Lady Thena, the one who oversaw trade imports with Sylvara—especially the rare, enchanted cacaofruit and the coffee beans that had become delicacies across the realm.
Her eyes lingered on me a moment too long.“Malachi,” she said, voice smooth and dipped in sarcasm. “A pleasure, as always.”
“Likewise, Lady Thena,” I replied with a small smile.
She had once worn the sigil. A Keeper. Until she severed her tether and traded conviction for coin.
Her voice, her power, her purpose… bartered for comfort while the rest of us bled for a rebellion she walked away from.
The others arrived in quick succession. Lord Veyar of the Night Conservatory, guardian of Nyxarra’s archives. Mistress Salene, head of the temple restorations.
Some wore their power with pride. Others with quiet grace.