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He smiles slightly. “Shade.”
The Grimsbane reappears from the shadows of the room over Rainer’s summon.
“Power is currency here in the western frontier. I want you to find mercenaries, hired sword,” he orders the grey-haired Grimsbane.
“How many?”
“As many as you can. Empty the Wiolant’s vault in this city if you must.” My uncle cares little for wealth these days. “A killer is on the rampage through town. There’s no way of knowing when he will strike. You’re to accompany my niece on that dinner dance.”
Rainer rises and saunters to the back of the room. The wardrobes are filled with stunning clothing of silk and cashmere, the softest cotton, leather shoes, and coats.
He passes the obsidian suit to the Grimsbane.
An impeccable selection. It even matches Shade’s mask. My uncle has always had the best taste for finer things.
“I shall return this without damage.” Shade bows to his Silverra, handling the suit respectfully.
“Keep it. It’s yours.” Rainer dismisses, turning to me. Stay safe, Rhianelle.”
“I’ll be all right, uncle,” I say quickly, giving him a farewell hug.
“Make sure my niece returns safely to the keep.”
With that final instruction, my uncle leaves without further word.
I hear Shade’s slow exhale of breath, as if he’d been holding it in Rainer’s presence. He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the suit in his scarred, callous hand.
“The Silverra said it’s mine…” he mutters quietly.
“He did,” I confirm with a nod, baffled by the strange emotion in his eyes.
“I’ve never owned anything…” I watch the hard movement of his throat.
My heartstrings tug over his admission.
The Ancient Ones forbid any kind of interaction with other Elven territory who refuse to join their coalition. All we know of the Grimbanes is that they are ruthless warriors, thieves, and spies born from the slums of Tiamat. But in truth they are no more than slaves to their guild of assassin.
“Come with me. I’ll have Lady Deirdre tailor it to your frame.” I take his hand. I want her to prepare one for Svenn too, in case he decides to join my Nameday celebration.
I lift the hood of my cloak to hide my hair as we soon venture out of the house. Shade does the same with an additional cowl to hide his Grimsbane’s mask. The street appears to be busier from this morning, with patrolling city guards rushing back and forth. There seems to be a commotion down the pier.
“You shouldn’t go any further,” a young sailor warns us—me in particular.
Shade merely raises a brow.
“Another corpse was found by the riverbed,” the guy answers our silent question. “It’s not something you can forget easily…The dockworker’s body was shredded to pieces, his throat ripped open.”
I mutter him my thanks for his advice. The male leaves us with a numb look of horror on his face. Having served Anastarros temple as a healer, I’m not particularly squeamish. I could go and have a look, but I find my legs turning to lead, my heart growing heavy with sorrow.
“Yesterday morning, two were found with their windpipe crushed,” Shade muses to himself.
“You don’t think it’s Svenn, do you?” I ask, keeping my face carefully neutral.
“It’s not him,” Shade says cooly.
I lift my head to look at the assassin. His smoky, chilling eyes meet mine.
“It was a clean kill yesterday, a damn messy one today. Either the murderer has a dual personality or there are two of them,” he surmises easily.
