Page 1 of A Kingdom of Shadows

Chapter One

"What's someone like you doing in a tavern all alone?"

I turn to look at the man sitting beside me at the bar. A man I'm all too familiar with.

My gaze wanders around the tavern, taking in the scene of inebriated patrons knocking their mugs against one another and drenching the nearby benches with mead, before coming back to rest on the man who is next to me. When I look at the fine strands of his brown hair, I can’t help but grin, even if a part of me is secretly repulsed by him. "I felt like I could use a drink."

My veins begin to fill with a sense of relief as he gives the bartender the signal to pour us both a tankard of ale. He smiles gently. As he looks at me, he slides the mug across. I make an effort not to move at all because of how uncomfortable I am.

"Have we met before?" he asks.

We have.

I draw out the word "depends" on my tongue while angling my head to the side.

His chuckle vibrates a heinous sound. A laugh I closely associate with the rust of iron gates inside a dungeon. Old, used, and unpleasant to the ear. "I'm not entirely sure. Have you asked me for favors before?"

As I reach for the mug, a strained smile crosses my face. "Never."

"Really?" He sounds surprised. "I could have recalled all the ones you'd made for your brothers when you were just a child."

I fix my eyes on the tankard as the reflection of his grin bounces off the surface of the glass. I quickly reach for my blade, and with one fluid action, I thrust the tip against his abdomen. Nobody takes any notice, and nobody even bothers to look in our direction. I had been too discreet. When I see that one of Ivarron's brows has been raised, I speak softly and ask, "How did you know it was me?" Darius had placed a glamour over me. It should have worked.

"Stupid girl," he says, unfazed by the blade. "I know everyone who lives in this village, and I can recognize when someone is trying to trick me." His eyes shift to my left hand. "And there is also only one person I know who always favors wearing one glove to cover something they hate."

A memory of a specific man I had come to share my first kiss with crosses my mind, causing me to press the blade's tip further into Ivarron's stomach. "The maps you had at your place. Where are they?"

"My, my, breaking into my place now, are we?" He clicks his tongue; mocking disappointment courses through his tone as his lips split into a crooked grin. "I taught you better than that, Naralía."

"Says the one who had me working like a slave."

"Don't act like you don't miss working for me since it seems—" He eyes my clothing "—That your venator dream didn't pan out."

My cold mask falls weak. It's enough for Ivarron to chuckle over whatever expression I must be showing. "Just tell me where you have the map to the Screaming Forests." Despite the pressure of my blade on him, my voice is barely a whisper, much to Ivarron's wicked humor.

"I would listen to her if I were you." The words don't come from Ivarron's mouth.

Looking past his shoulder, I see Darius resting an arm against the counter and flipping a gold coin between his fingers.

"She can be quite the menace when she wants something." His voice oozes humor as his gaze flickers to meet my furious one.

"What are you doing?" I grind my teeth at his inability to listen to plans when I had told him to wait outside with Tibith.

His response is to smile at me before Ivarron clasps his hands together. The many rings on his fingers clink as he says, "Well, now this is fascinating. My previous trapper is working with the infamous thief. I must say I expected someone more—" He gives Darius a once over "—Intimidating."

Darius's lip tugs into a fake smirk at the corner as he inclines his head forward. "Brave," his whisper is a threat slicing the air between them. "I like that in a man—well, those of my age, of course. Now, why don't you go ahead and show us that map?"

Both mine and Ivarron's eyes dart down to where Darius's palm carves blades out of shadows.

The need to scoff is immediate. If my blade did nothing of the sort to scare Ivarron, then—

"With pleasure."

I furrow my brows at Ivarron's complacent answer. He looks at me with a sickly smile and rises from his seat. Turning to the barmaid, he gives her a firm nod before saying to us with a deriding gesture of his hand, "Follow me."

Darius and I share a look: do we trust it?

I had informed Darius what type of person Ivarron was on our way here. From how his firm jaw had tightened under the pale ray of sun, I assumed he didn't like the idea of going to him for help.

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