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I’m not sure whether to be more horrified by how many of the spirits Lothar’s people still hold captive or how large a force they’ve installed in Florian in general. This is only the Order lackeys who didn’t take the night shift, and only one of several guardhouses around the city.
The leader of the scourge sorcerers knew how hard he’d need to fight to keep control over Silana’s capital. But our current forces might not be enough to tackle even one guardhouse, let alone all of the scourge sorcerers in the city.
I reach the last bed Rheave has indicated and draw back the blanket to reveal the sleeping man. My brush smears the inky makeup across the side of his neck?—
And his skin twitches. He startles awake with a grunt.
My power leaps up my throat, but Rheave shoves past me in an instant. As I rein in the frantic call to subdue our target by whatever means necessary, my partner clamps his hands against the man’s mouth and chest.
“We want to help you,” he rasps in a hushed voice. “I used to be like you, but I’m not anymore. Can you take control? This body could be?—”
The man starts to thrash against his blanket. Whether for his own reasons or because of the magic still binding him, he’s not interested in a peaceful resolution.
Rheave lets out a pained noise—and a hiss of his daimon magic.
He hits the struggling form with enough power to reduce the clay statue that should have appeared into black dust. A smoky, earthy smell trickles into the air.
I grasp his shoulder, grimacing in sympathy. “You had to do it.” Another few seconds, and the guard might have woken up the rest of the room.
We both stare down at the shadowed bed with its heap of charred clay dust, a bizarre murder scene. I gather my resolve. “Come on, we’d better clean up the body so no one realizes what happened.”
Rheave nods silently. We gather the remains of the clay body in a bundle of the blanket and sheets, and Rheave carries it with him on our way back to the window we entered through.
Rheave jumps down first and turns so I can use him as a sort of stepping stool. Several buildings over, we shove the bundle of fabric into a refuse bin where no one is likely to notice it. Then we hurry on to the sewer grate.
Stavros is waiting there, standing right on top of the grate so my gaze can easily find him despite the charm trying to divert my attention. His quest was a lot less time-consuming than ours.
I touch his arm to bring him into focus. From one glance at his grim face, I know he didn’t find what he was hoping for.
“One of the captains I’d have counted on has been killed,” he tells us as we step back from the grate so he can open it. “I think another may be still alive but held in one of the forts outside the city—Lothar might have hoped she had information that would be useful as the Order establishes itself in Florian.”
Which means the advisor will be torturing the woman for her loyalties. I offer Stavros a tight smile. “Maybe we can get her out soon.”
He gives a rough chuckle and bends toward the grate. I’m just turning toward Rheave when a sudden blast of magic slams into the side of my head.
The last thing I hear as I topple to my knees is Rheave’s frantic shout.
Fifteen
Stavros
The shift in the air has me whirling before I’m even sure of what’s wrong.
One second, I can’t see anything around me except the darkened street. The next, five figures materialize a few paces away.
One of the men is gripping Ivy, her concealment charm snapped off her neck, her head slumped. They must have knocked her unconscious.
But even as my muscles clench to spring to her aid, my gaze lands on the taller man with the pale eyes and uneven frame who’s obviously orchestrated this confrontation.
Lothar gestures to the man holding Ivy, who whips a knife to her neck. My stance stiffens, knowing I can’t leap in there quickly enough to ensure the blade doesn’t sever her throat, even in my currently invisible state.
“I know she’s not alone,” Lothar says in his thick, haughty voice, his eyes scanning the street. “If any harm comes to me or my people, you’ll be sacrificing her too.”
At least it seems that Tinom’s charm is working well enough that Lothar can’t make me or Rheave out when he isn’t sure of who he’s looking for or where exactly they should be. But somehow he found Ivy.
I adjust my position, my hand balling into a fist. Anger sears through my gut.
How did he know we’d be here at just this moment? It can’t be a coincidence. They were lying in wait, concealed by their own magic.
