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But now?
It had been just over a month since Alice’s death—since the four of them were reduced to three.
Alice had been the oldest but was still only thirty-five when she was murdered. The Queen’s Blades don't live long happy lives. They don’t get a happily ever after and don’t get their names recorded in the history books. They don’t even get proper funerals.
No one had known that better than Alice. She had seen other sisters rise and fall, seen too much blood and death in her brief life.
Hell, Fey thought, they all had.
Alice had been careful, always so careful. Guarded, but never with her sisters. She was their pillar of strength, their leader, and their friend.
And now she was gone. Her absence was a constant physical pain in Fey’s chest.
Dameon spotted her immediately the moment he left the training yard. He was handsome, middle-aged but still well within his prime, with brown hair that had only the barest hint of silver peppering his temples. Handsome even with the scar that split his face, running down his face in a diagonal slash—the remnants of a fight with a Bear Shifter from his time as a foot soldier, Fey had heard.
“What’s her name?” Fey asked immediately, ignoring the surrounding crowd and pushing away from the wall to approach him.
Dameon sighed. “Good to see you too, Fey,” he said, his voice quiet enough that none of the spectators could overhear.
It didn’t matter that she was in full uniform, didn’t matter that she looked nearly identical to her sisters. Dameon knew each of them, knew their stance, knew their postures.
“Her name, Dameon.”
“Why yes, Fey, it is a lovely day out, so nice of you to notice. How am I, you ask? Fucking terrific, thanks for asking. Just in the middle of doing my Goddess-damned job.” He paused, watching her, and the scar across his face twitched as he clenched his teeth together tightly. “You’re not supposed to be here, Fey. You and your sisters aren’t involved in this.”
“You’re picking my next sister. How can we not be involved?”
“Because that’s not how this works, and you know it.” His voice held a sharp bite. “I pick the candidates for the Queen’s Blades. I hand deliver them to the three of you for their trials when I’m ready. That’s my job, not yours.”
Fey snorted a laugh. “Don’t pull rank with me, Dameon. You won’t like how it ends.”
It wasn’t an idle threat, and he knew it. While Dameon was their handler and their trainer, he was no Blade. He wasn’t even a Witch. And no one, save for the Queen herself, outranked the Blades. A spark of anger flashed in Dameon’s eyes, but he smothered it quickly enough Fey could almost convince herself she’d imagined it. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“You still shouldn’t be here. Do you know what sort of rumors it sparks when a Blade is seen in the open like this? Do you know how frightened some of those soldiers are?”
Fey chuckled. She glanced at the few groups still standing around the Solare entrance, gaping at her. “Frightened? They seemed more awestruck than frightened.”
“You and your sisters are to keep to the palace when you’re not on assignation. You know this. Fuck the Goddess, Fey, what were you thinking?”
“It’s not my job to care about frightening your soldiers,” Fey snapped back. “The Crown doesn’t employ me to consider people’s feelings.”
Dameon laughed. “You’re starting to sound like Lilith, you know that?”
“What’s her name?” Fey repeated.
For a moment, she wondered if he’d play dumb. If he’d pretend not to know who she meant. But Dameon, bossy and pigheaded though he may be, wasn’t stupid.
“Willow. Her name is Willow,” he answered with a resigned grunt. “Come on, walk with me. You need to get back to the palace. You’re expected at the Queen’s side tonight.”
They walked together across the palace yard. The remaining soldiers parted around them, giving them ample space.
“What’s her element?”
“Fire and Earth,” Dameon answered. “I’ve had my eye on her for a while now, for that alone. There’s less than a handful of soldiers who command two elements left.” He scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “She reminds me of you, you know.”
Beneath the mask, Fey’s lips curled in a smile. Fire and Earth would give her the exact opposite elemental powers as Fey. “Why?” she asked.
“Stubborn. Fierce. Never taps out, even when she should. You saw it, I assume? Her sparring partner had her dead to rights in the first few seconds, but she just wouldn’t give up.”
