Page 9 of Shardless
Chapter 2
-An excerpt from Long May She Reign: The Rise and Fall of the Last Queen of Time
Once hailed as the greatest sovereign of the modern age, Queen Raine was a visionary and a philanthropist, a dedicated scholar. A remarkable woman whose final act nearly destroyed an empire.
No one can say why she chose to close the gates, but in the wake of the great disaster—the day many are now calling the Schism—the High Lord and Lady of Earth and Air consolidated their power under the name of the Dawn Court. They created the Sanctorum and declared war upon Queen Raine and her time mages, ushering in an era of fear and bloodshed that has never been rivaled.
With a sigh, Taly pushed open the door to thedrafty little room she now called home. It wasn’t much—only a few flecks of paint still clung to the walls, the roof leaked, and stacks of old books she’d found around the gates took the place of furniture. Nevertheless, the rent was cheap, and the woman who managed the tavern downstairs generally did a pretty good job of keeping the riffraff away from the second-floor rooms.
Things could be worse. And certainly had been before she’d found someone willing to rent to a shardless.
Water dripped onto the scuffed wooden floor as Taly trudged across the tiny room, peeling off her wet clothes as she went. How she yearned for the days when she owned more than one set of clothing. When she had abruptly decided to leave the manor and her life as the Marquess’ adopted ward, she hadn’t thought to grab any extra clothes. That was a mistake in hindsight.
Straining her ears, she could already hear the telltale sounds of the tavern’s kitchens opening down below, the staff likely getting ready for the lunch rush. Her stomach gurgled at the thought of food. It had been almost a week since she’d had the luxury of a full belly.
Looking at the bed stuffed into the corner, Taly debated just going back to sleep, but her stomach grumbled again, more insistently this time.
Okay. Shower first. Then food.
Except… Taly pushed aside the sheet that had been hung across the doorless entry to her washroom and turned the nozzle on the shower. Nothing came out. With a growl, she banged against the wall, rattling the fire and water crystals that had been embedded into a rusty metal panel on the side of the tub.
The stones flickered, the tap dripped, but then… nothing.
Stepping up onto the lip of the shower, she peered over a small ledge near the ceiling. Two small violet gemstones—shadow crystals—were ensconced behind a jumble of dusty wiring. Unlike other types of crystals, shadow crystals could be used to store raw aether and then wired to power an array of different contraptions, including plumbing. The light shining from within the two crystals responsible for powering her shower was almost nonexistent, meaning that the crystals hadn’t been able to collect enough aether from the tavern’s primary aether grid to even allow her a cold rinse. This was not an uncommon occurrence. She’d gone most of the winter without running water.
“Happy birthday to me,” she sang bitterly, wringing the water out of her clothes as best she could before dressing. At the very least, her unplanned dive into Lake Reginea had done a good job of washing away the dirt and grime.
Pulling on her soggy boots, she hesitated, studying the dark navy jacket she’d found at the Aion Gate several months ago. Although she considered herself lucky to have found a piece of clothing in such good condition, she didn’t know how much good it did her soaking wet. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a replacement. When she made her initial flight from the manor, she had been wearing a sturdy leather jacket inlaid with protective wards, but she had traded it at the Swap last month when the salvage had been especially lean.
With a half-hearted shrug, Taly pulled on the damp coat and quickly appraised herself in thesmall, square mirror hanging by the door. Running a hand through her shoulder-length tresses, she scowled at the figure that stared back at her. Tufts of straw-colored hair stuck out at odd angles in a halo around her face—the tragic result of her first and only attempt at cutting her own hair.
The hairstyle wasn’t pretty, but it was practical. Although she had loved her hair, after six months of trying to hold on, she had finally given up her long, gently curling waves. Vanity was a luxury she could no longer afford.
Grabbing her pack, knife, and pistol, Taly stepped out onto a small circular walkway that led around to the front of the two-story building. The sun was almost directly overhead now, and the sounds of the city filtered up from down below.
While Ryme was the second-largest township on the island, that really wasn’t saying much. Compared to the fey cities on the mainland, it was an unruly, chaotic mishmash of different styles and cultures situated at the northern end of Tempris. Being so close to the Aion Gate, they were always far more susceptible to adopting mortal styles and customs than the rest of the fey world, and as a result, wooden and brick hovels sat sandwiched between newer structures that had been modeled after a strange collection of mortal architectural styles. There were also, of course, more traditional fey homes—sturdy stone great houses that were all windows and arched eaves—but most of those were situated outside the city walls on their own little parcels of land.
Some of the locals were already filtering into the main room of the tavern. Stepping inside, Taly retreated to the far end of the bar top and hoppedup on an empty stool. She held up two fingers to signal the man behind the counter.
At first, he pretended not to see her, but she knew it was just an act. With a tired sigh, she rested her chin on one hand, waiting patiently. Eventually, he ambled over and unceremoniously plopped down a bowl of something that may have been edible at one time in the distant past.
The very distant past.
A slimy sheen coated the surface of the porridge-like substance, and when she poked at the mush with her spoon, various chunks of unidentifiable vegetable matter floated to the top.
Taly leveled a glare at the man, who stood watching her expectantly. “What is this, Jay?”
“It’s leftovers,” the ruddy-faced man grunted. For as long as Taly had known him, the burly barkeeper had always made a point to maintain a neat, tidy appearance. This morning, however, food stains peppered the front of his white shirt, and she had seen him wipe his bulbous nose with the tail of his apron at least twice since she had walked in.
Taly grimaced. “Jay, you are many things, but you’re not a chef. Why does Laurel have you working the kitchens again? This is the fifth time this week.”
Jay’s scowl deepened, and he scratched the side of his head, moving aside the wispy strands of mousy brown hair to reveal the pointed tips of his ears. “She’s sick again. Pretty sure she gave that crud to me too this time.” Turning to the side, he began coughing into his sleeve. Even though he was only a few generations removed from his closest highborn relative, Jay was still considered a lowborn. In addition to breeding away most ofthe traditional highborn traits, like the bright eyes and arched brows, having mortal blood in his veins meant that he was more susceptible to human diseases.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Taly said, refusing to back down, “but I don’t want leftovers.” She pushed the bowl away from her. “Especially cold leftovers.”
“People who don’t pay get leftovers.” He picked up the bowl and held it in his hand, casting a simple warming spell before dropping it back down in front of her. A piece of something orange (a carrot maybe?) sloshed out of the bowl and onto the bar.
Great. Now it’s warm garbage.
