Page 103 of Stars May Burn

“Annabelle, one is coming. Get on that rooftop. If you get a clear shot with your crossbow, shoot it. Especially if you have yadum tipped arrows, but any arrow would do.”

To my surprise, she nodded without an argument and pulled her scarf back over her face before scrambling up a decaying garden wall and leaping up to the roof. What books had she been reading to give her the wild idea to style herself as some sort of vigilante?

The whine grew louder. It was coming at full speed, possibly attracted by our argument in the otherwise quiet night.

I readied my weapons in a defensive stance and scanned the street in both directions. Though detectors were directional enough to track, if your quarry was at close quarters and moving too quickly, they didn’t always point you in the right direction. I rolled the dead body of Jack to the side of the street with my foot. I didn’t want it to trip me.

The high-pitched drone turned into an audible scream, and a woman appeared, running down the street at full speed, her long, thin limbs so white they seemed skeletal. Her ragged dress barely covered the essentials. She skidded and slipped on bare feet over the slick cobblestones but didn’t seem to register any pain or tiredness. In that sense, the halfsouls were exactly like the Kollenstar soulless.

I dug in my heels, drew in a small amount of strength from my reserve, and prepared to deflect her momentum, pushing her into the wall. If I was quick, I might be able to stab her before she recovered.

There was a thwip and a thud, and the woman flew backward, a crossbow bolt in her chest. She thrashed, attempting to get back up to her feet. With an injury like that, she wouldn’t be a suitable one to sedate. I ran toward her and finished her with a clean blow before she managed to stand.

I looked up at Annabelle without bothering to hide my surprise.

“Who, by the kingdoms, taught you to shoot like that? Most trained soldiers wouldn’t have hit a target moving that fast from your angle.”

I watched in the dim light as she slung her crossbow over her back and dropped beside me like a cat. She practically preened. “Still think I shouldn’t be here?”

I sheathed my sword and folded my arms. “Well, yes, actually. It’s still too dangerous. You realize that if you die it will affect all of Fenland? Does anyone at the palace even know you’re not in bed?”

She scoffed. “A ‘thank you’ would have sufficed.”

I narrowed my eyes as she moved closer to inspect the body, then clearly thought better of it and stepped back, pressing a hand on the scarf over her mouth. I gave the signal through the detector for a scout to retrieve the body: three short low drones.

I stepped beside my half sister. “Are you more convinced now? Why would I make things that actively try to kill me?”

She pursed her lips as she nudged the body with one toe as if that was a reliable way to tell if something was dead. “Maybe you’re correcting your mistakes.”

“Ergh!” I shook my shoulders to dismiss her and started toward the center of downtown ready to hunt the next one.

Annabelle ran to catch up. “I’m coming too. You can’t stop me.”

I threw her a sideways look. “Just don’t die. Please. I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

She snorted. “Then do your job as a general and kill things. Isn’t that what we basically pay you to do?”

“I’m trying to sedate two, remember? It will be more risky.” I sighed. “You said you would argue my case to the king. I will accept that, but I don’t need help sedating one. Stay back,” I scowled and looked away. She kept following.

She was annoying. But she had a point. She had a much better chance of convincing Father to move against Lord Lyrason. He doted on her. If she witnessed me sedating it, too, it would make her case stronger.

I thought again of Lyrason’s kryalcomy on his desk and wished I understood what it meant. If Annabelle could have a piece of illegal kryalcomy and not be complicit, he could too. I had overreacted to my worries.

It would be nice if my father had at least one redeeming quality.

SOPHIE

Like every morning, I riffled through all my letters to see if Father had responded to my invitation, both dreading and hoping to see his handwriting.

I just wanted this to be over. The anticipation was destroying my ability to sleep, and Kasten’s absence only made that worse. What if Father never responded? What if he refused to come after what had happened with George?

I let out a sigh as I checked all the letters a second time and found none with the Halfield seal. I tried to muster the energy to concentrate on them. With Kasten gone, the pile of letters and reports on my breakfast tray every morning had tripled. How did he manage to keep on top of so many things? And he had made things simpler for me by delegating many of his roles to others. I never got messages about the troops or kryalcomy. But there were so many about trade, predicted city shortages, staff changes and requests for various repairs or financial input. I was glad to have Mistress Rose to discuss the castle matters with and Sir Jordan, the city steward, to discuss management of the rest of Kasomere. Most of the time the requests were decisions they had already made that I simply needed to sign off, but I could tell they were starting to be genuinely interested in my input too.

I stirred raisins into my porridge as I read a report on recent measures to strengthen Kasomere’s wall after the recent scare of Whitehill and how this had caused funds to be directed away from clearing the lower city sewers. I knew it was my job to be informed of everything, but this felt like an area many other people would be better qualified to comment on.

A knock sounded at the door, and I nodded at Meena to open it. A boy appeared in the Halfield servant uniform. I startled and dropped my spoon. Father had sent a messenger instead of a normal letter? Was he a spy? Or had Father included something important in his reply? Maybe he wanted my own reply straightaway. A guard was following closely behind him, and Meena straightened, even though he could not have been more than thirteen years old.

The messenger bowed. “My lady, thank you for receiving me. I have a message from your father. He regrets to decline your invitation.”

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