Page 20 of Heir

Quil gagged audibly at the insinuation as Musa walked away, laughing. Only a moment later, the prince, still disgusted, was accosted by a Pater who’d finished speaking to Aunt Helene.

“What do you think of your aunt’s plan, Your Highness?” Pater Vissellius oozed forward, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. “No objections?”

“Do shut up, Vissellius.” A woman with massive rings in her ears and ghas stains on her fingers appeared at his side: Mater Andricar, a wily old creature whom Quil had always liked.

The old woman took a thin cigarillo from her bodice and lit it on a nearby brazier.

“The boy supports his aunt. The Empress is only being reasonable.” Mater Andricar blew ghas smoke into Vissellius’s pale face. “She must secure the line.”

Vissellius coughed, waving the smoke away. “A bit rich, seeing as she never had children herself. Why does it have to be a foreigner?”

“To make a strong ally! The girl’s highborn, I hear. If it’s done before the coronation, all the better. The prince’s bride will—”

Quil, who’d begun to inch away from the two gossips, froze. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What’s this about a bride?”

Vissellius and Andricar exchanged a glance. The former quickly took a large sip of wine to hide the barely repressed glee seeping from every pore.

“Why, my dear prince, didn’t the Empress tell you?” Andricar, to her credit, appeared genuinely shocked. “You are engaged to be married.”

6

Sirsha

The man was surprisingly polite for a client—if enigmatic. He was evasive about the details of the job, and while some might see that as dishonest, Sirsha saw it as intelligent. Anyone trusting enough to put all their cards on the table with a stranger was too naive to work with.

Sirsha held her hands up to the fire that the man kept burning despite the accursed damp. After he hauled her up from the maw of the Jutts, they’d gone to his camp on the south side of the Roost, in one of the many caves that pitted those hills. On the way, he explained the job: To track a murderer. One who targeted young people.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked the man now.

He kept an eye on the storm outside, his back to the wall as she awaited his response. His wariness was oddly reassuring. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, Sirsha didn’t feel like she was about to get stabbed between the shoulder blades.

“I asked around,” the man said. “Overheard your dead nemesis plotting against you. Figured you’d have to escape into the Jutts eventually. The path you took is the one I’d have used.”

Sirsha supposed that was his version of a compliment, but she didn’t like being so predictable. Then again, she didn’t like dealing with fools either. She’d have to tread carefully.

“Migva wasn’t a nemesis. Just a greedy Roost rat.”

He ripped off a piece of the flatbread he’d warmed over the fire and took a bite. Then he handed the rest to her. She considered him as she ate. There was something familiar about him. Something that nagged at her. It would come to her, eventually. What she needed to know now was how much he was willing to pay—and whether it was worth it.

He was a Martial, that was clear. Built like a soldier and in fighting shape, with a touch of silver threading through his dark hair. Finely made boots, a single, well-crafted scim strapped across his back. He was likely Illustrian—a member of the highest Martial class. Whatever he offered, she decided she’d ask for double.

“You’re not telling me everything about the job,” she said. “Or yourself. I’d like to know who I’m working for. Do you have a name?”

The man shrugged. “Not one that matters. I’ve told you what you need to know.”

“You feed me dribbles of information and I suss out the rest?” Sirsha laughed. “I don’t like games.”

His face went still then, and there, in the sudden bleakness of his pale eyes, Sirsha saw all his dead. All his ghosts. The fire flickered and the wind screamed into the cave, an eldritch warning.

“It’s not a game,” the man said softly. “Sixteen children are dead. Perhaps more.”

“I’m not a bounty hunter,” Sirsha said. “I track down cheating spouses. Traitorous business partners. The odd jewel thief. If the children were missing, I could help you. Tracking killers seems like a quick way to get a knife in the eyeball. In any case, I can’t drag a murderer all the way back from whatever hidey-hole—”

“Rodinius Lucius.”

Sirsha started at the name before recovering. “I don’t know who—”

“He tricked an entire village out of its gold, up in Marinn. He and his gang killed a family on their way out of town. Authorities couldn’t help. The village headman traveled to Taib looking for someone to seek justice and found you. You hunted down Lucius, recovered the gold, and dragged him back to face the villagers. Killed three of his associates in the process. You were what…fifteen at the time?”

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