Page 4 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

Four million denza. It’s a lot of fucking money. More than I’ve ever seen or heard of at once. The largest contract I’ve ever taken was a million. It’d been for ten targets. I can’t possibly think that the client wants me to kill an entire battalion. No, it must be a high-ranking individual. The risk is high but so is the reward.

My head spins with the possibilities as I make my way through the tavern to the staircase leading up to the inn. Under the creaking old wood of the steps, I let my mind wander to those possibilities.

Freedom has never been so close.

Will I regret it if I don’t say yes? Or will I be choosing my own death?

Chapter 2

Kiera

The next morning comes pouring through the thin, worn brown curtains of my paltry, tiny-ass room, draping the space in a murky gray. Despite the early turn-in and the singular pint of ale I’d consumed the night before, a deep pounding starts up at the back of my head, dragging a frustrated groan from my throat—a sign that I should’ve eaten before retiring.

I toss a forearm over my eyes, muting the light, but the sounds of the world waking up outside soon become too much to ignore. Perhaps we should’ve chosen an inn a little more on the outskirts of Mineval. Though it’s nothing more than a town between the God City of Riviere and the absolute Hinterlands of the wild, it still has a considerable amount of traffic. Traffic that likes to start its day early, apparently.

Finally, I remove my forearm and crack my eyes open. A small eight-legged creature makes its way down the side wall closest to the single bed I’m lying in. Without waiting, I lift a hand and press the tips of my fingers to the wall. The spider hurries towards me, speeding along the wood grain, and slips onto the edge of my finger, crawling up to my knuckle before stopping. I pull it closer to my face and close my eyes, focusing on the point of contact.

Blurry images invade my mind, making my head reel. It’s probably not the best idea to do this so soon upon waking. It makes the world tip and tilt as the image I try to focus on is fractured into multiple different angles before zeroing in on my target.

Regis. I grimace as I catch sight of him rolling over, the sheet draped around his naked waist slipping down. I almost cut off the image the second I see his fucking dick pop out, but thankfully, the feminine body on the other side of the bed drapes over him, hiding the damn thing, and he turns once more. An arm circles his waist and nails drag down his back. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s happening as his body arches up and moves over the woman in his bed.

Guess he really did get lucky with the barmaid the night before. No shock there. Objectively, I can say that Regis is a good-looking man. If he weren’t such a fucking idiot and manwhore, I might even find him appealing personality-wise. I reopen my eyes and turn my hand towards the nightstand. The spider crawls onto the solid surface before skittering away, disappearing back to wherever it came from after having done its duty of checking in.

Now that I know Regis won’t be looking for me anytime soon, I sit up and stretch my sore muscles. Knowing him, with a woman in his bed and no other job hovering on the horizon, he’ll spend the next several hours lounging and catching up on the sleep he likely missed out on the night before. I, however, don’t have the luxury of relaxing. I still need to consider my options on the latest proposition I’ve received. I also need to soothe the pounding in my head.

I crawl out of bed and dress in the same clothes from yesterday. Buckling a leather band about my middle, I tighten all of my straps and slip the smaller stilettos I carry into the pockets that line the inside. There’s little to pack, but more time than I need before checking out later so I leave the remainder of my belongings in the room, locking the door at my back with a slender metal key that I hang around my neck as I make my way down the stairs and into the already bustling tavern dining room.

My stomach rumbles, but as I pass a few of the bleary-eyed men from the night before, hanging their heads over the slop of what looks like the tavern’s breakfast offering, I decide to nix the thought and instead head for the market square.

Humans and Gods alike pass me by as I make my way out of the tavern and inn and into the streets of Mineval. Stalls are beginning to open and people are milling about, some running late for work as they rush along the sides of the cobblestoned streets. This early, few carriages and horses are clogging the roads, so it’s easy enough for me to pass through.

Although Mineval is smaller than the God Cities like Riviere, I like it. It’s not hard for me to differentiate the Gods hiding their Divinity out here in the country towns, but the fact that they live harmoniously with their mortal counterparts is what gives Mineval its appeal. So very different from the structured hierarchy of Riviere.

The only downside is the massive gleaming building on the hill that overlooks the city. My eyes seek it out even as I continue to make my way through the streets. Each city that’s of Mineval’s size or larger has a reigning Lord—or God. Another way for them to keep a watchful eye on their mortal cattle. I’ve been far too lucky to be able to live my life in the shadows and away from their watchful gazes. No doubt the Mortal Gods in the Academy have their lives scrutinized each second of every day.

I grimace. If I do decide to take on Ophelia’s offer, then I’ll have to come to terms with living under such a regime for weeks if not months. A job like this will no doubt take a long time. I understand what the client is thinking—whoever the target is, they’re obviously not easy to get close to.

For me, merely infiltrating one of the Mortal Gods Academies will be risky by itself. Yet, the thought of receiving four million denza sits at the back of my mind as it has since the night before. No doubt Regis expects me to agree to the terms of the job despite the lack of information provided by the client, and I have to admit, it’s still appealing.

I make my way through the early morning market crowd with ease. Without my cloak, I know I look less like a man, but people still avoid me as I’m not dressed like the regular town girls. A dress would only get caught up around my legs if I need to move fast.

As the sun rises into the sky and the heat beats down on my head, I reach back and gather my hair, yanking it up and tying it with a strip of leather from my wrist. Little wisps of baby hairs touch the base of my neck and around my temples, but without the heavy fall against my skin, new air washes over my otherwise sweat-soaked skin, granting me some relief.

The day etches closer and closer to noon as I meander down the streets, picking up a few things here and there. An apple to replace my uneaten breakfast and cure the headache throbbing against my skull. An extra flint rock to store in my bags. More leather twine. I’m about ready to turn and head back to the inn to see if Regis has woken from his late-night-to-early-morning rendezvous when a startled shout echoes up the too close buildings a split second before the scrape of wheels on stone and the groaning of metal reach my ears.

The crowd around me freezes and then they begin to move quickly. Half of them turn and dash away from the sounds of shouting and crying, while the other half—too curious for their own good—shuffle towards it.

It doesn’t take long for me to contemplate what I intend to do. The more knowledge I possess, the better. Or rather, that’s what I tell myself to hide the fact that I’m just fucking nosy as hell. Spinning on my heel, I head back towards the road, but instead of following the crowd, I catch sight of a ladder leaning against a wall inside the mouth of the alleyway. I take it, moving up the wooden pegs two rungs at a time, getting high enough to catch the underside of the roof’s overhang. Locking my fingers onto the stone shingles, I heft my body onto the sun-warmed surface and roll to my feet before I sprint across it towards the next building, leaping across the opening to the following roof.

Below, more people begin to gather, all collecting on the sides of the road. A massive carriage that hadn't been there when I’d passed through several minutes before takes up the majority of space at the center of the market street. I scowl. What fucking idiot would drive their carriage right into the market? A carriage that’s quite obviously too large to fit comfortably through the streets of Mineval. Almost as soon as I have that thought, it occurs to me. The carriage looks far more like the kinds that are popular in the God Cities. A grimace overtakes my face.

I scan in the direction of the shout and as I come up to the edge of the second roof, I pause, dropping down onto my haunches to watch the scene unfold before me. The carriage door swings open and my scowl deepens. A God. Of course. Not just any God, though. This one isn’t even attempting to mask their Divinity, but instead letting it all shine free. Golden trinkets adorn the long pale locks of hair that drape down past their feet, dragging behind them as they make their way down into the street.

“What is this commotion?” she demands, waving a crimson fan in front of her perfect face.

Even if I didn’t already know who this God is, just seeing her would allow me to accurately guess what gives her the confidence to appear before the people of Mineval with such disdain.

This is Mineval’s God. Talmatia. God of Vanity.

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