Page 72 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

The front windows of the shop are coated in grime so thick that it would be too obvious if I were to clean some off just to peer inside. Instead, I look down the narrow street and decide to round the back. Just as I do, though, the curtain above shifts again, and a pale face peers out glancing around as if the man inside senses something amiss.

His eyes never land on me, but instead move over me—through me. My illusion is still holding strong. The man’s instincts, though, are telling him that something is wrong. Interesting.

The curtain closes once more and I move down the street, fast enough that were I not under my illusion, the woman sweeping at her stoop would likely gasp and scream if she saw me. I round the row of shops and slum houses until I spot the entrance to the back alley behind them. For most of the buildings, there is simply another right next to it and no yard or garden, but a few have a square of land, unkempt as they are with unplucked weeds and littered with laundry hung out to dry.

I count the back doors until I find the one that must belong to the shop that Kiera’s brother—Regis—lives in. This little shop doesn’t necessarily have a yard, but the stone-laid little plot in the back is overrun with cracked pots filled with dying foliage. Even with my illusion, as I hear the sound of a man’s voice join Kiera’s through the open window, I duck down and sit propped against the wall, listening. The mortal man is too keen for my preference.

Their voices are quiet as I listen to them discuss various teas and … did Kiera offer to bake a pie? Does she know how to bake? I’d be surprised if she did. The conversation is normal and my lips purse as I tilt my head. Despite the actual words, the sound of the man’s voice is tight, more pitchy than I expected. When I’d caught a glimpse of him in the window, he hadn’t looked anything like Kiera. With dirty blond hair darker at the roots and a more angular face shape, but that could be due to his masculinity versus her femininity.

A warning clings to the back of my mind as I continue eavesdropping on their conversation as Regis gathers supplies and then Kiera follows him down the hall back towards the front and up the stairs. With a silent curse, I stand and step away from the wall, glancing up.

I take several steps back and pull my illusion closer just before I leap and catch the roof edge. I haul my body up and pray for silence as I slip over the top of the building and to the other side. Peering over the side, I watch the curtain flutter in that same room again. Hopefully, now, I’ll be able to get a—

A shrill noise stabs into my ears, cutting off that thought. It’s so sharp and unexpected that my foot slips on a broken shingle and I nearly go sprawling over the side of the building. Cupping a hand over each of my ears, I stumble back and land hard on my ass. Another shingle cracks.

I pause for a moment and sigh in relief when I realize the sound of my fall was swallowed by my illusion. The noise continues, though, when I pull my hands away. Whatever they’re saying is interrupted by the vile thing. I grit my teeth, my short nails stabbing into my palms as I shake free the pain in my head.

Mother fucker. What is that? The sound isn’t loud but remains a constant ringing in my ears. I’m sure with time and exposure, it wouldn’t be so bad, but it makes listening to whatever they’re saying in that damned room impossible.

More curses fill my throat, but none come out. I wait. Minutes slide into an hour. Half the time I allotted Kiera passes in an instant. That noise continues, but finally, by the start of the second hour, it no longer makes me want to take a knife to my ears to stop the horrendously annoying sound. In fact, if I focus through the pounding headache that’s started up, I can pick out a few words here and there.

“—Ophelia will want to know—”

“—isn’t the time, Carcel—”

“I’ll take care of it. Don’t—”

The snippets are giving me virtually nothing save for a few names. Ophelia and Carcel, I record those and listen harder.

“—impossible, Kiera.” That from the man, Regis. But what is impossible? I strain my hearing, annoyed by the fact that I have to do so.

“There has to be an explanation,” Kiera replies. “I will look into it. I swear. It’s going to be okay, Regis.” Despite my own skepticism over Kiera’s background, it’s clear in her voice that she cares for this man whether he’s her brother or not. “There’s something else I need to tell you. We have more issues in the Academy.”

I sit up straighter, leaning over the side of the building. Anger pierces my skull when a door slams in the distance and a loud man yells, cursing in such a way that the sound reverberates up the street. As the minutes have passed into hours, the sun has risen higher and what was once a quiet morning in the slums has quickly turned into a far noisier space, making listening that much more difficult.

“What’s happened at the Academy?” I hear Regis ask.

“I had to use the poison you gave me last time,” Kiera says.

“Already?” The man sounds shocked.

Poison? What poison? I think.

“When I came back from my last visit, I was taken to the Dean of the Academy. One of my … Masters,” Kiera’s voice turns sour at the last word, and I already know where this is going and who she’s speaking of. I tamp down the guilt. “Reported me for disrespect and I was punished. There’s too many eyes on me now and I don’t think I could be pulled out even if Ophelia wanted it.”

“Fuck.” The human male’s one word encompasses a plethora of emotions ranging from anger to fear to apprehension.

What does she mean by ‘pulled out?’ Just who is this fucking woman and what is she doing in the Academy?

This very well could be my only chance to find out and I’m more pleased than I’ll ever admit aloud that I accepted her bargain that day in the library.

“They didn’t find out who you are or else you wouldn’t be here right now,” Regis says, his voice rumbling over the noise still assaulting my head. I close my eyes and blow out a slow breath.

Fucking focus, I order myself. Something tickles at the inside of my nose and I reach up, eyes opening as I press the pad of a finger to one nostril. Blood. Just perfect.

“Well…” Kiera’s voice is followed by a long moment of silence.

“You are still safe, right?” Regis asks. There’s a sharp noise such as a bed squeaking and booted footsteps shuffling against a wood floor. I can just imagine the man taking Kiera by the shoulders and shaking her as he says his next words—there have been plenty of times I’ve wanted to do the same. “Tell me that you’ve not been found out, Kiera,” the man demands.

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