Page 5 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

The atmosphere in the room changes instantly. I can feel the tension in their bodies, the hunger in their gazes.

“I could use some of that coin,” Bryon says, rising.

I snatch up the bag and sling it across my body, clutching it with one hand. “I’m paying the rent.” I kiss Miri’s head swiftly and turn to my nephew. “Lark, teach your sister some addition and subtraction while I’m gone.”

Lark nods, his perpetual frown easing slightly. I’ve taught him all the mathematics I know, which isn’t much since I barely had any schooling myself. Still, he’s gifted with numbers. If he cultivates that aptitude, he’ll be able to earn a good living one day.

I hurry out of the apartment before Loram or Bryon can make up their minds to physically stop me and take the money. Anxious that they might follow me, I mount the narrow stairs faster than usual, climbing to the highest floor—eight flights in all.

My ankle is throbbing by the time I reach the top. I limp down the hallway, sweat cloaking the back of my neck and slicking the valley between my breasts.

When I reach the landlady’s apartment, the door is ajar, splintered along the edge where the broken lock hangs.

I hesitate, instantly wary. The only light filters through the grimy panes of a window at the end of the hallway.

Break-ins aren’t unusual in this part of the city. The landlady and her partner live on the top floor for that very reason—to put more distance between themselves and any potential burglars. But in these difficult times, thieves have become bolder.

There’s no sound or movement from inside the apartment, so I creep cautiously forward and push the door wider.

Something halts the door’s progress, and I lean the upper half of my body through the opening. The obstacle is my landlady’s body, lying on the floor in a lake of blood. The back of her head has been smashed in, and brain matter speckles the floorboards. Not far away, her partner is staring fixedly at the ceiling, a deep gash across their throat.

Not just a robbery, then. A double murder.

People have been getting increasingly desperate throughout Elekstan, and in this neighborhood, our desperation is the raw, brutal kind, wavering on the ragged edge of civilization. It would take only the slightest nudge for us to topple into anarchy. Maybe we’ve reached that point already.

There’s nothing I can do for either of these people. Perhaps I should scream and call for help, but that would bring theauthorities’ attention to me and my family. There are more of us living in our tiny apartment than there should be, and Lark is somewhat known in the neighborhood for his skills as a budding pickpocket. Besides which, I was just fired from the palace troupe, and with the back rent I owe, suspicion for the murders might fall on me if I’m the one at the scene when the bodies are found.

I retreat into the hallway, easing the door shut so the invasion won’t be immediately apparent to anyone walking by. I hesitate only a second before hurrying toward the stairs again. But instead of going back down, I go up.

With the landlady and her partner dead, their rooftop garden is unprotected. This early in the spring, there won’t be much available in the open garden, but our winters are mild here, so there should be a few things growing. And the greenhouse probably contains a veritable treasure trove of plump, ripe produce. The children could use the fruits and vegetables. My own mouth waters at the mere thought of them.

I have space in my bag. I could fill it with produce and get back to my apartment before anyone realizes what has happened.

It’s callous and cruel of me, I suppose. Apathetic. But my first priority is always the people who depend on me, especially my sister and her children. They have no one else.

With the landlady dead, the very roof over our heads is more uncertain than ever. I have no idea who will take over the building, whether they will raise our rates, whether they will even allow us to stay. Maybe Vohrain will invade the city before a decision can be made. Maybe this place will descend into greater violence and chaos than ever before. If so, it would be wise to hoard as much food as possible.

Strength of purpose fuels me despite the pain in my ankle. I open the door to the roof and limp out into the partial sunshine.

Gold beams slant through the deep grayish-blue of the clouds. The light glints off the smoky glass of the greenhouse and illuminates rows of well-tended garden beds, full of rich earth and green sprouts.

There’s an upright wooden slab near me, slanted toward the afternoon sun, with shallow troughs containing herbs. I grab handfuls of them, stuffing the leaves into my bag.

As my fingers close around a clump of chives, a low droning sound begins in the distance, growing in pitch and volume until it’s a piercing wail.

The dragon alarm.

So this is it, then. Dragons have been sighted on the horizon, and they’re coming to destroy us. I need to grab what I can and get off this roof before they arrive.

I spot a bed of spring onions and head for those next. Then I pull radishes, not caring that they’re tiny. In the adjacent bed there are new peas on the vine, recently transplanted from indoors to the open air, I suspect. Quickly I pluck the pods, ripe or not.

The dragon alarm has faded now, its duty done, but that only means the danger is closer. I pause in my frantic harvesting, looking out over the tops of the city buildings, shading my eyes against the rays of the sun.

The familiar shapes of the war balloons float above the city. They were supposed to be a countermeasure against the dragons, but from the gossip I’ve heard in the palace, they have proven spectacularly ineffective as well as being ridiculously expensive.

Toward the north, I spot black winged shapes, and my stomach drops with a dreadful thrill. At this distance, the dragons could be a harmless flock of birds—except birds don’t have such immense wings, such long necks, and such ferocious magic.

I’ve seen the survivors of this war crouched on street corners or huddled in alleys, begging for food. I’ve seen their twisted scars, their ruined bodies, their haunted eyes. Some were blinded by frost-fire, some were seared by flames hotter than a blacksmith’s furnace, and others had whole limbs torn away by void magic.

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