Page 35 of A Song of Shadow and Starlight

"You don't have to be embarrassed," he says, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets. "It's endearing."

"Do you expect me to say thank you or something?"

He shrugs. A light breeze blows past us and whips strands of his dark hair across his forehead. "I don't expect you to say anything you don't mean."

We walk a few more blocks in complete silence. I'm itching for him to say something just so I don't feel compelled to keep the conversation going. But when he remains tight-lipped, I cave to relieve the tension between us.

"So, what exactly do you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, a job. Like a baker or street merchant. What do you do?" I glance up at him. "Are you a spy or an assassin or something?"

He laughs. "And if I am?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"I serve Tronovia in whatever way my king sees fit." I groan and he stares at me wide-eyed. "Are you -"

"You keep giving me vague answers to all of my questions." I slap my hand against his chest, stopping him in the middle of the sidewalk, squaring up to him. "Give me a straight answer. Please."

That one word seems to break whatever wall he has built between us, and he nods in surrender. "I'm a member of the King's Elite. I'm an anomaly, meaning most Tronovian magic wielders have fire magic, but I have shadows. If there's an assignment that requires stealth or is sensitive in nature, the king sends me and my brothers to handle it."

"So, assassinating Bastian?

"We didn't know exactly where Bastian was or when he would return to Midori. Dispatching him in another country would have pinned his murder on that kingdom and we didn't want the blame to fall on an innocent party. So, when we discovered you were in need of a lady-in-waiting, we thought Eris could be our eyes and ears inside the Golden Palace.

"We figured Bastian would have to return for his wedding and that's when we prepared to strike. What we didn't count on was him returning the day before the wedding.

Finn stayed aboard the ship, while Nyx and I scaled the palace wall where Eris was waiting. She'd put sleeping powder in the guards' meals so those who were supposed to be on patrol that night didn't make their shift. When we went to strike, we found that Bastian wasn't in his room, and once you stumbled upon us, we knew we had missed our opportunity after months of waiting. You'd seen our faces, heard our accents. We couldn't let you stay and inform everyone that Tronovians had come to assassinate your betrothed."

I mull over what he has revealed and though I appreciate his candor, it still upsets me to hear how they'd plotted for months to murder my fiancé.

"How were you going to do it?" I ask, and the question tastes sour on my tongue.

"You want to know how I was going to kill your fiancé?"

I meet his gaze. "Yes."

He rakes his hand through his hair and admits, "I had a vial ofbellamortem, which means "sweet death". It's a poison that can't be detected and his death would have looked like he had died in his sleep. No blood. No pain. No struggling. It's better than what he deserves, but it would get the job done without placing blame or suspicion on us or anyone else."

"Finn's serum?"

"Not something he's proud of, but he knew what needed to be done to save lives."

I’m sick to my stomach. Had Atlas been successful, I would have awoken to the news of my best friend’s death instead of celebrating our marriage. I’m glad I interrupted their assassination plot. The image of Bastian lying dead, stings, and I refuse to shed the tears welling up in my eyes. I will not cry in the middle of the street. I will not make a spectacle of myself.

For the next ten minutes, Atlas and I walk in complete silence, and I have to admit, I enjoy it. I'm not uncomfortable walking next to my fiancé’s would-be-assassin because part of me no longer sees him in that light. I'm not a fool. I know what Atlas is obviously capable of, but he's protected me on more than one occasion and for that reason alone, I owe him my gratitude. My treacherous heart fills to the brim with guilt. I shouldn't be casually strolling down the streets with this Tronovian. Shouldn't be engaging in conversation, worst of all, trading laughs with him. But I find I enjoy his company, or at least, I find solace with him, knowing in this vast, scary world, I'm not alone and I'm safe.

Finally,wearriveatHotel Zulmara. I should be used to the beauty and wonder of the Bavan capitol, but I'm once again rendered speechless by the sight before me. Rectangular glass sections are suspended in the trees at the top of the hill with breathtaking views of the city behind us. Hotel Zulmara is easily the most luxurious, architectural wonder in the entire city.

The cobblestone street we're on dead ends at the immaculately landscaped entrance. In the middle of the half-moon courtyard sits an enormous alabaster fountain with blue and green mosaic tiles in its basin, mesmerizing us as we make our way to the front door. Two trolls in navy uniforms are stationed at the entrance and as we approach, they pull the doors wide open, so we don't have to break our stride.

My eyes dart around the spacious lobby, not sure what I want to focus on first. The concierge desk has a white marble countertop and mahogany base. The female troll standing behind it sets her glasses on top of her head, and she flashes us a warm smile.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Harland. We were not expecting you to join us for the Festival of Benni Yashi."

Atlas responds with a charming smile of his own and presses his forearms on top of the cool counter. "It's good to see you, Jayna. I'm afraid our stay won't be a long one this time. We're just passing through to The Quarters."

---