Page 21 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

I turn to the windows and look out as the sun sinks behind the southern wall of the Academy dormitories. Something is coming—that much Caedmon had made clear. Perhaps this something will find a way to ease the torment inside my heart. If not, perhaps it will simply end this unnatural life of mine.

Half mortal. Half God. A being caught between two worlds in which I fit neither.

One can only hope.

Chapter 9

Kiera

“I’m not wearing it.”

“You must.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Regis shoves the damn overly long cloth at me for the hundredth time and I shove it right back, half tempted to ball it up and stuff it directly up his fucking ass. The stiff woolen fabric is a dark gray with long sleeves and skirts that would most likely cover the tops of my toes if I were to wear it. The dress is the same style as any middle-class mortal might wear, and though I know what Regis is trying to do, I find staring at it the same as staring a prison cell in the face.

“It’s unnecessary,” I snap, blowing the silvery strands of my hair out of my face.

He holds up the dress and shakes it at me. “You do realize that most women your age wear dresses, correct? You are the anomaly. I’m sure Ophelia didn’t miss this part of your training.”

I ignore the dig about Ophelia. “If you love them so much, why don’t you put it on?” I finish lacing up my boots and then tuck the tail of my black tunic into the back of my trousers. My relationship with dresses is complicated. It’s not necessarily that I mind the idea of wearing one, though I’m not entirely comfortable with them since I’m so used to wearing trousers. However, the idea of wearing a dress into the most dangerous place on the continent for a secret Mortal God like myself feels akin to binding my hands behind my back before walking into a lion’s den.

Regis tosses the dress onto my bed with a sigh. “You don’t want to mess this mission up before it’s even begun, do you?” he demands. “You’re lucky enough that they accepted your application, but you can’t expect them to not look at you strangely if you—a woman, in case you’ve failed to recall your own gender—show up in the garments of a man. Terra in the Academy wear uniforms—female Terra wear dresses.”

“You’re the one who said that the best lie is the one that’s closest to the truth,” I remind him as I grab my coat and slip it on over my loose tunic. It’s so old now that the fabric has grayed and worn through in some places. It’s not like I have time now to go out and buy new clothing, though. Besides, like Regis stated, there will be uniforms to wear at the Academy.

“What assassin would walk so blatantly into the Academy standing out like a rotten thumb?”

He groans. “It’s sore thumb,” he corrects instinctively. “And you’re exactly right—no assassin would ever do that!”

“So they won’t expect it,” I reply tartly. To stand out, in some instances, is also to blend in.

Throwing his hands up in frustration and hopefully defeat, Regis turns away from me and stomps towards the door only to pause at the last second and whip back around to face me. He points at my face and scowls. “You’re wrecking your own chances at that four million denza,” he snaps. “If they don’t accept you then you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“They already accepted me,” I remind him blandly.

“That doesn’t mean shit,” he snaps. “They could very well take one look at you and kick you right out the gates and then where will you be? No closer to your freedom and our four million denza.”

I pause for a moment as I consider his words. If I’ve learned anything in this life it’s that if something seems too good to be true, it usually is. The four million denza … it’s a miracle offer. One I’m afraid to take, and yet, the desire—the greed—for freedom forced me to take it. One more mission and then, this will all be over. No more killing. No more Divine Beings. I can free myself from Ophelia’s contract brand and leave the rest of the world behind.

The money itself means nothing to me. I don’t care what it can buy, save for my freedom, my life back in the Hinterlands. Dimly, I wonder if the cabin I lived in with my father even remains. Okay, maybe I’d keep the money left over from the mission to fix it up if it is still there.

“Do you really want to risk the four million denza just because you don’t want to wear a dress?” Regis asks, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to the present.

I shake my head. Wearing a damned dress won’t make or break my mission. “If that’s to be, then let it be,” I say. “I’m not going to waltz in there dressed like a tavern barmaid.”

He arches a brow. “I think you’d make a fine barmaid, Kay,” he says. “I haven’t seen the tits you hide under those man garments, but I’m sure—” I swing my fist before he finishes that statement. Just as expected of a fellow assassin raised under Ophelia’s tutelage, Regis ducks the attack with a laugh and little effort.

“Keep your thoughts about my tits to yourself, Regis,” I snap. “I’m there to placate annoying Mortal Gods and find a target. Nothing more.”

“I hate to remind you, darling, but you are a Mortal God yourself.”

“A fact no one will find out, I assure you—dress or no dress.” I will slit my own throat first before I put him and the rest of the Underworld Guild in danger. Loyalty before dignity. The life of one isn’t worth the risk of the lives of others, even if that one life is mine.

Regis groans, but knowing me as long as he has, there’s no way he isn’t aware of my complete and utter seriousness in this matter. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Finish packing and I’ll meet you outside. The carriage should be here to take us to the Academy any minute.”

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