Page 22 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

“You’re going?”

He nods. “You’re looking at your very loyal elder brother, darling,” he says. “If I ever need to meet with you and we’re spotted, we don’t want it to look too suspicious. Besides, I hear plenty of families come to bid farewell to those who have been accepted as Terra. It would be odd if a Terra showed up with no one to wish them well.” He knocks once on the wooden doorframe as he exits. “Hurry it up.”

I sigh and return to my packing. Though there’s not much to return to my bags, we’ve been staying in Madam Brione’s shop rooms for a little over a week now and a few more little trinkets have appeared courtesy of her appreciation of our cooking. It’s unnecessary, of course, but I don’t mind the little extras—sprigs of herbs, a leather bracelet with a single flattened metal charm, and most preciously, a hair piece meant to stick through the hair in a knot that doubles as a weapon. I take the slender stick and make sure the sheath is on the blade appropriately before shoving it into my bag and then lifting the whole thing and tossing it over my shoulder.

Minutes later, I’m clomping down the stairs with Madam Brione nowhere in sight. I take one last lingering look at the dusty shop that she never actually cleaned and smile as I realize that Regis will likely continue staying here after I’m gone. The thought of him, alone, in a house full of dirt, brings me such unadulterated joy that I’m grinning as I exit the shop and meet him in the street.

Regis looks up as I step out and pulls back as he sees my face. “I don’t like that expression,” he says. “Stop smiling, it’s creepy.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re playing the brother perfectly,” I tell him, maintaining my grin.

“I’m serious, Kiera,” he says. “That smile makes me think you’re planning something—specifically something that has to do with me.”

“Does it?” I ask lightly as I head for the waiting carriage door. Pausing outside, I unload my bag and toss it inside against the far wall. The carriages of the Gods usually have room at the back or on the roof to carry heavy bags, but unfortunately for us—we’re not Gods. We have to content ourselves with the much narrower and rougher traveling carriages and cabs meant for lower-class citizens of Anatol.

I climb into the carriage and take a seat with my back to the driver. Regis follows shortly, taking the seat opposite me as the door behind him closes and the stairs are pushed back under the cab before the driver takes his position.

“Shall we talk about the plan?” he asks.

“Is there a need?” I lean against the wall next to the door and blink at him. “It’s simple. Get in. Kill the target. Get out.”

Regis presses his lips together and rubs a hand over the top of his blond head. He tugs the leather tie binding the longer strands into a loop of hair at the back of his skull free as he does so. “The client is being less than forthcoming with information,” he says as he gathers his hair into a fist and wraps the leather band around it, tightening the strap with clear frustration. “Ophelia is concerned that this is a trap.”

“If she was that concerned, then she would’ve shown up or sent another message telling me to refuse the job,” I point out. Is it dangerous? Yes, but so is every job we’ve ever done. I can’t deny that this mission is more important because of the possibility that it could gain me my freedom. As … useful as the Underworld Guild has been and my training as an assassin, with the promise of four million denza comes the realization that I could actually leave it all. I could stop. Anytime I wanted to. I wouldn’t have to be an assassin purely for survival. Though, I can’t imagine what else I would do, the mere fact that I’d have a choice is enough to leave me salivating with hope.

Regis’ hands continue messing with the leather band as he pulls it flush against his neck. “You’re not wrong, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be ready for every eventuality.” He finishes with his hair and then turns, reaching into his own satchel to pull a long scroll free. Unwinding it, he sets the paper on his lap for me to see.

I lean forward, curious and impressed by what he reveals. “Is that a map of the Academy?” I ask.

“Yes, cost a pretty denza too, but I thought it necessary for designating your escape routes, should you need them,” he says.

I catch the edge of the page with one hand and smack his thigh with the other, urging him to scoot over so I can switch seats. He grunts and shuffles closer to the wall as I swap into the opening he leaves behind. It’s a tight fit, but neither of us cares much as we pore over the map in our laps.

“Here, here, and here,” he says, pointing to various points on the edges of a deeply inked line. Each point is marked with an X. “These are the main entrances and exits. Smaller Xs are servants only and, of course, the larger ones are for the Gods and Mortal Gods.”

“This map doesn’t take into consideration windows and other possibilities,” I say. “If needed, I can get out through the sewers in an emergency.” I’d prefer not to, but it’s one thing I like about cities—added escape routes.

Regis grimaces but nods his agreement. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“I doubt it will,” I say as I look over the various other markings on the map and the names of the buildings. I point to a tower on the northern side—the one farthest from the other exits. “This is where the notice said I’m to report for duty,” I say.

Regis curses. “Of course it did,” he mutters. “As far from the normal escape routes as possible.”

“It has to be that way for a reason,” I say, considering the rounded portion of the wall that separates the Academy from the rest of the city. “What do we know about the Academy itself? Is there something on the northern side that prevents other escape routes? I don’t see any gates there.”

With a sigh, Regis rolls the map up and hands it to me. I take it willingly and stick it into my bag. “You’ll see soon enough,” he huffs, “but to answer your question, yes. The northern side of the Academy faces the ocean. There are a few pathways that lead up along the coast, but I did some investigating myself and they have a decent amount of foot traffic. There’s a point here.” He gestures to a place on the edge of the map that’s nearly off the page. “They call it the Point of No Return. I advise you to stay away from there unless you’re out of options because the only way out at that point is to scale down the cliffside.”

“Cliffside?” I repeat. “Not docks?”

He shakes his head. “No docks can be put in that particular spot because it faces a massive cliff.” He eyes me. “I suppose, with the right supplies, you could scale down the length of the cliff, but you’re more likely to survive the sewers. I suspect the Gods built the Academy on the cliffside so they could put their spawn onto a pedestal for all of Riviere to see.”

I arch a brow at Regis’ comment. A pedestal? I highly doubt that. The Gods see their own offspring as little more than dangers to their own safety. If it weren’t for the evolutionary aspect that slaughtering one’s own children is taboo to all, I have no doubt they’d have done so long ago.

No, putting the Academy on the cliffside wasn’t to show off the Mortal Gods—it was to ostracize them from mortals. To separate them and show them as better in some aspects and … poorer in others. Mortals, at least, are underestimated by the Gods. It was how the Underworld Guild had come to be. Divine egos don’t allow for them to consider mortals a threat. But Mortal Gods … the Divine Beings are smart to keep their offspring under lock and key, considering that the only way a Divine Being can be killed is by one of their own or one of their children. They are doing what anyone would in their circumstances—keeping their enemies right under their thumbs.

I don’t say anything in response as I move back to the seat across from him. The carriage continues on, the ground beneath it getting rougher as the cab sways back and forth, nearly knocking me into the wall several times as we hit a particularly rugged piece of land.

“How much fucking longer?” I demand after what feels like a solid hour. “Are we leaving Riviere?”

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