Page 109 of Andreas

‘Percy—’ Areanel turned her attention towards her brother. ‘Head to the roof, check the perimeter and signal when Ryyen’s subordinate has arrived.’

With a nod, Percival crept out from the shadows’ cover and scaled the adjacent wall.

Waiting for Percival to fade from sight, Areanel looked back over her shoulder. Cobalt clashed with emerald, and Areanel found herself suspended in time, even if it was just for a moment. ‘Rymedur.’ Her hand found his without even looking, and their fingers laced together. ‘You stay here and hold our position with Brutus. I will take another look for entry points here on ground level.’ The fingers woven between hers squeezed. He didn’t want to let go. ‘Stay hidden within the shadows. No one but Rymedur should be using their powers. The last thing we want is someone recognising us and word getting out that we’re here.’

Brutus didn’t speak. He only levelled her with a look as though to say: I’m-not-an-idiot!

Baroness Ophelia Wilamayla von Claude. A mouthful of a name that left a bitter taste on the palate of Areanel’s mouth. The daughter of Baron von Claude—a current member of the governing body and one of the most respectable gentlemen within the capital city of Cal Cathlar, Alabasus—had extravagant tastes… and deep pockets.

Well, her father had deep pockets. Baroness Ophelia was known for questionable taste in the company she kept. Case in point—the former Chieftain of Vennedove, who currently lounged in the high-backed chair that the baroness was also perched upon.

When Areanel had noticed the chieftain visiting four nights ago, she had every intention of simply following him and observing his habits before apprehending and interrogating him, but she needed to know… Was this relationship simply pleasure, or business? The baroness’ coffers would certainly draw anyone’s eyes… Especially his.

And she was right. Like clockwork, the chieftain had paid the manor a visit every night since, but when a thick dossier was placed in his grubby hands two days ago, Areanel had tasked Ryyen with learning what the chieftain and the baroness discussed behind closed doors.

Creeping along the back wall of the manor house, Areanel peered into the window, spying a petite servant who refilled the chieftain’s wineglass.

Wind rustled, sending a biting chill along her arms and shifting the cloak from her head, exposing her features. The sudden movement had the servant glancing toward the window.

Areanel held her breath as the servant’s eyes met hers.

Then settled when they blinked. A flash of a black void before they blinked again, and their eyes returned to the warm colour of autumn leaves. Ryyen. Their features had completely transformed: hair the colour of straw, sun-kissed skin and a petite stature—Ryyen resembled an unnoticeable human male, but Areanel knew they were anything but.

Offering her a subtle nod, Ryyen set the glass bottle on the nearby desk and slipped something into their pocket. All the while, Areanel saw how their eyes flicked while their ears focused on whatever the chieftain was whispering to the baroness. They seemed oddly comfortable with each other. Intimate.

Ryyen moved to the window. Reaching for the curtain, they shifted so that their body blocked a view of them sliding something through the small slit of the open window, and then proceeded to close the curtains. What was that? Paper? Areanel snatched it before it could be caught in the window or blown away by the wind. It was getting colder. Winter would be upon them in full force in a matter of days. She just hoped they managed to return to Andrea before snowfall.

Concealed from view, Areanel snuck to the closest source of light—a lamppost that shone from the end of the alleyway.

Cal Cathlar had always intrigued her. Its residents—a cacophony of species living and working together—had created a truly extraordinary safe haven that combined an assortment of technologies and remarkable devices. From fae magic to human electricity, Alabasus was a wonder. Who could have imagined all manner of species working in peaceful tandem?

Areanel could not help but stare in awe as the lamppost was set alight by a cat scurrying past. Light! Areanel quickly held up the paper so that she could read the curved lettering, shoulders dropping as she read the swirling letters: Welcome – S.V.

What? Maybe it was some sort of invitation? S.V. Initials, perhaps—but who? It felt like card, and the deep red colour and gold designs along the border suggested it was.

Turning it over, Areanel read the back. Again, it was unhelpful. All that was written in the centre was a large Z scrawled in gold. A logo? Areanel’s brow furrowed as her mind worked through every possibility, cataloguing them. What linked S.V. to Z? There had to be—

A streak of silver caught the corner of her eye, and Areanel whirled around, her hand instantly finding the curved blade secured at her lower back.

Pushing her arm against the solid chest of whoever had decided to sneak up behind her, Areanel used the momentum to send them back into the wall.

‘Oomph!’ They grunted as their back collided with the hard brick.

The curve of her blade pressed into their long, pale, masculine neck. Already, a bead of something trickled down, landing on her hand.

Without any movement to trigger it on, the flame within the lamppost extinguished. Darkness enveloped them, and Areanel pressed her blade further into the male.

She didn’t want him getting any ideas, so she bared her teeth. ‘Try anything, and I’ll gut you,’ she snarled, teeth inches from his throat.

The male’s shoulders shook with a laugh Areanel hadn’t expected, and she tightened her grip on the blade. The male leaned further into her, causing the blade to nick his skin.

Yet Areanel refused to let this male gain the upper hand.

‘I don’t for a second doubt you would.’ His voice was muffled by the blood-red mask that covered the lower part of his face. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’

But even with how the fabric muted the sound, Areanel would know that low, honeyed tone anywhere. A bitter cold settled deep within her bones, like frost crystallising on a windowpane; it grew steadily until her body locked in place, her muscles tensing.

Something like a warning brushed her mind—a winter storm ready to be unleashed, a cyclone of ashes ready to reignite and burn, a fierce sense of vigilance ready to claw and rip at flesh.