“They’re hiding, Vel. Hiding. But worms crawl everywhere. Thren knows where they are now. He knows, and you’ll all die. He’ll have his plan, his stupid, idiotic plan.”
Realization hit Veliana like a cold fist in her gut.
“You told Gerand the truth,” she said. “You didn’t lie like we paid you. You told the king’s advisor the goddamn truth.”
Gileas’s black-toothed grin was all the answer she needed.
“You son of a bitch,” she said, her voice seething with rage.
“Who knows who Gerand’s told?” Gileas said. He coughed, and blood spilled across his lips. “Who knows what plans they’ve spun? The Kensgold will be a fun night. I can’t wait to watch.”
“You’ll watch nothing,” Veliana said. “You’re going to do Dezrel a favor and fucking die.”
She yanked her dagger out and thrust for his chest. The dagger punched through his clothes but pierced no flesh. They were empty, and already falling as if dropped from the ceiling. The clothes piled on the chair, looking like some strange joke. Veliana stared at them, her mouth open in shock. She had thought the first time she had been delusional from her pain and trauma. This time, she knew magic was at work.
She picked up his shirt and shook it. Nothing. She used her dagger to shift his trousers side to side. Still nothing. Curses on her lips, she turned to leave when something caught her eye.
Crawling on the floor toward a small crack was an eight-inch black worm. As it flexed, she saw a thin cut along its side.
“No way,” she said. No wonder he had been nicknamed the Worm. He’d probably given it to himself to mock every single person he dealt with. Every joke about living in mud, digging through walls, listening with ears clogged with dirt…it was all true.
It was almost to the crack. Veliana hurled her dagger, wanting to get nowhere near the strange creature. Purple fire swarmed around the blade, created by her meager magical talent. The dagger pierced the worm just above its midsection. It twisted and squirmed, its body cut in half. Still it crawled toward the crack, leaving its lower half behind.
Veliana crushed it with her heal. Innards spurted across the floor. She held in a wave of vomit. For some reason, it reminded her of when he had kissed her. Pieces of the worm sizzled in the purple fire of her dagger. She pulled it free, wiped it clean on her pant leg, and then sheathed it. It took a couple kicks to get the worm body through the crack. The carcass was shockingly heavy for being only a worm.
When done, she turned and saw the tavern keeper looking at her with wide eyes.
“Burn the clothes,” Veliana said as she tossed him Gileas’s bag of coins. “Consider that ample payment for keeping your mouths shut.”
With no time to waste, she hurried out the door. Everything was a mess. Whatever plans she had made with Eliora were shot. If the king knew of Thren’s plans for the Kensgold, then most likely the Trifect did too. Everything would change.
Before she could worry about that, she had to deal with her most pressing danger: Thren knew where the Ash Guild had holed up to hide. Once he found out, he would assault immediately. Felhorn had long learned to never let an enemy last a second longer than necessary. She ran a list of safehouses through her mind, trying to decide which one James would flee to first.
Faster and faster she ran, praying no guild caught sight of her desperate run. Her guild was dying, and the scent of blood would bring every last cutpurse down on their heads.
13
W hen Aaron arrived in his father’s room, Kayla was already there, waiting.
“As I was telling Kayla, this was a perfect hit,” Thren said to his son. “Delius is dead, in the middle of a crowd in daylight, no less. No one saw the killer. We’ve heard confused reports already claiming it was a man instead of a woman. No court will find a guilty member, yet the entire city knows we were responsible. That is how you send a message, my son. That is how you frighten a population, by showing that even with common knowledge of our guilt, their justice will never reach us.”
“Yes, father,” Aaron said. His voice was barely above a whisper. Thren noticed his subdued nature, something his son had been steadily growing out of, and then rubbed his chin. He stared into Aaron’s eyes, trying to decipher the reason.
“The girl,” he asked. “Did you kill her?”
Aaron shook his head. He almost lied. He wanted to claim she’d died, and the trauma of killing a young girl in cold blood had left him ill. But he couldn’t. His entire insides chilled at the very thought of his father finding out he spoke a lie.
“No,” he said, stealing a glance at Kayla. “She ran away while the crowd was still gathered. I failed.”
Thren caught the glance and turned his attention to Kayla. She only shrugged as if she didn’t understand.
“No matter,” Thren said, storing the information in the back of his mind. “Kayla, go fetch me one of our cutpurses. I don’t care who.”
Aaron waited with his eyes downcast. His father never said a word.
“You called for me?” asked a clean-shaven man with thick circles underneath his eyes. His black hair was cropped and pulled back into a ponytail.
“I did. Dustin, this is my son. Have you met him before?”
Dustin looked at Aaron, his mouth locked into a frown.
“Don’t think I have.”
“Look at him,” Thren said to his son. “And listen carefully. Instead of spending time thieving, assaulting caravans, or working the streets, he will instead track your failed target. He will spend our money bribing men and women to find out the girl’s name and location. He’ll risk his life in these endeavors, to both rival thief guilds as well as the Trifect’s men. Coin, time, and manpower, all wasted because you couldn’t do one simple job.”
Aaron’s downcast eyes finally looked up to Thren’s, and a bit of life sparkled inside them, as if he had just learned a secret.
“I understand,” he said.
“Good.” Thren turned to Dustin. “Her last name is Eschaton, daughter of a priest who died earlier today. Find and kill her.”
“Am I allowed to have any fun with her beforehand?” asked Dustin.
“I want my message hammered home,” Thren said. “Do as you please. Make sure she dies afterward.”
Dustin’s grin was ear to ear.
“Be a pleasure. I’ll leave her bits on Ashhur’s temple door.”
Aaron felt his neck flush. He desperately hoped his father wouldn’t notice. But of course, he did.
“You have plenty of growing up to do,” Thren said to him. “You wanted to be at my side, and now you are. Start living up to your expectations.”
“Yes, father,” said Aaron.
“Be gone,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.
Aaron didn’t go to his room. Instead, he went to Robert Haern’s.
“Come in,” the old man said after Aaron knocked. The boy crept the door open, slipped inside, and then shut it. When he turned around, Robert was staring at him.
“What is it that troubles you?” Robert asked.
Aaron bit his lower lip. He so badly wanted to ask a question, but he knew the potential danger. What he wanted to know, his father would disagree with. But he had to know.
“I saw a priest today,” he said. “He wore a symbol, like this, around his neck.”
Aaron drew a single line in the air with his finger. It looked like an ‘M’ with one side much higher and sharper than the other. Robert picked up his cane and walked over to his desk.
“Did it look something like…this?”
Robert opened a drawer and pulled out a gold medallion hanging from a silver chain. It also had the strange
