filth and
squalor. If not for Victory and Havoc she likely would have starved
or been a gutter orphan in Brannaford if she had made it that far
alone.
“But it wasn’t, and now you can improve
theirs,” Finn said and took her hand gently in his own.
She glanced at him and smiled weakly at his
attempts to cheer her and noticed that he had dropped his reins
rather than release his hold on his sword. Nodding slightly, she
squeezed his hand and forced herself to smile wider. “Thank you,
Finn,” she whispered.
“There is a man on the roof watching us,
Finn, to your left,” Valor whispered, his voice barely carrying
over the steady thump of the horses hooves.
“Don’t look, Jala. He has been watching us
since we got here. I’m amazed he let you see him, Val,” Finn said,
not turning his attention anywhere but the road ahead of them.
“You knew he was there?” Valor asked
incredulously.
“It’s Hemlock. Just keep riding,” Finn said
and Valor urged his horse into a faster walk.
“Why is he watching us?” Jala asked quietly.
Even she knew who the leader of the Nightblades was.
“Most likely he is curious or he has a
contract on one of us. Regardless, if he was going to do something
even I wouldn’t have noticed him,” Finn said calmly. “Still, it is
never a good idea to look directly at him. He takes it as an insult
or a sign of disrespect.”
Nodding, she continued to ride and prayed to
Fortune it was simple curiosity. She had read and heard stories
about Hemlock. In every tale, when he had a contract the victim
didn’t live or return to life through magic. What Hemlock killed,
stayed dead.
Chapter 4
Fionahold
“I’m pleased you could make it,” Symphony
said as she fell into step beside the large red haired man. He was
dressed in dark colors as always, with a flowing cloak concealing
most of him. The hood was down allowing her to see the dark
expression on his handsome face. “The council waits in the next
room along with two scouts that have just returned from Eldagar. I
believe you know one of them,”
“There aren’t many Fionaveir I don’t know,”
Kiernan Morcaillo said with a faint smile. He always had a way of
making his smiles seem anything but friendly. No matter the
occasion, there was always a faint coldness to the expression.
“This one you know better I think,” she said
and pushed open the heavy wooden door leading to the council room.
Caspian, Faramir, and Lutheron sat at their customary table while
Vaze and Remedy sat at another, sharing a pitcher of ale. In the
back of the room at a table by himself sat Shade while Charm
lounged in the rafters above. She moved aside from the doorway and
allowed Kiernan to pass, drawing stares from all in the room. It
was unusual to have so many council members together at once and
even more unusual to bring to the meeting a man not even in the
Fionaveir.
“Have good news for us?” Vaze asked, his
voice a slow drawl common to the southern region of Morcath, though
Symphony knew for a fact he rarely ever set foot in that country.
His hair was a dark grey which hinted at Arovan blood while his
eyes were so dark they appeared black. No one was quite sure what
Vaze was, other than a talented fighter as far as she knew. There
were, of course, rumors about him, but Lutheron was the only one
that truly knew. He had brought Vaze to the Fionahold when he was
barely days old and had raised him like a son.
Remedy, on the other hand, everyone knew
well. He was Han’shy and Avanti by birth a highly unusual
combination that he had proven could be quite dangerous. With equal
skill in Mind magic as well as Enchantment the young man was
formidable.
Kiernan paused in the center of the room and
let his gaze fall across everyone there. Turning at last to Vaze,
he shook his head slightly and then looked at Caspian. “It’s not
her. I’ll stake my life on it,” he said bluntly.
“What makes you so sure?” Caspian asked
leaning back