PART ONE: PROTECTOR

CHAPTER 1

120 moon cycles later

“The Council of Celestials was established the year King Valentine Wynter’s reign began, the year of his father’s death. Made up of twelve Celestials and ten lesser members, the Council seeks to uphold the laws of the kingdom and better the lives of its citizens.”

“What are the Council’s orders?” the man in the far corner of the bar whispered underneath his breath before sipping from his bottle of whiskey. He smacked his mouth loudly as he set it back down onto the weathered wooden table in front of him, leaning back in his seat to watch his companion, who was puffing on a huge cigar between his meaty fingers.

“Same old, same old,” the second man drawled in a thick accent, his beady eyes watching the few drunkards sauntering by.

The bar was located on the far side of the town of Javia, a location that bordered the capital city of Kingdom Davoren, so hardly anyone important ever bothered to drop in, especially during midday, making it the perfect meeting spot for the discussion of such private matters.

There was a reason why I had chosen to seat myself at the booth by the wall opposite them, hidden by the shadows of the waning candlelight and the hood I’d drawn over my head before entering the bar, but it was still close enough I could hear their conversation over the droning chatter around us.

The first man laughed loudly, jutting his hooked chin at his partner. “What are you trading for this time? More gold?”

The second man shook his head, his greasy black hair swinging back and forth along his wrinkled forehead. “The Council has enough gold as it is. Why do you think they’ve suddenly decided it’s time to rebuild the city?”

“There’s nothing that needs to be rebuilt about this place.” Hook-Chin scoffed, downing the rest of his drink, the liquid sloshing over the edges of the bottle.

Beady-Eyes furrowed his brows. “The Council thinks otherwise.”

“To hell with the Council and their damned Celestials. They can go fuck themselves for all I care.”

The idea of a Council which dictated every moment of everyone’s lives didn’t sit too well with the common-folk. After the death of the king’s father, he’d decided the kingdom required more control and more powerful men to uplift justice in every city, with the king himself running it all, of course. And over the last five years, it had seemed promising, until he had decided to branch out into the cities bordering the kingdom who had no business in listening to what the royal family wanted. Including Javia.

“When you’ve worked for the Council for five years, you learn not to meddle with their business.” Beady-Eyes explained, shooting the other a warning look.

Hook-Chin ran a bony hand through his hair. “Hating them is better than doing their bidding. You’re more like their little lapdog than some Council advisor.”

Because the Council was such a righteous organisation that somehow couldn’t get their own hands dirty, they’d found it a task to recruit nobility who were willing to trade their services for wealth and power. Apparently Beady-Eyes was one of them. Though it seemed he didn’t take that oath too seriously as he was casually conversing about the Council in a place more public than he probably thought.

I raked a finger down the edge of the dagger in my hand, one of many strapped to every inch of my body, shifting slightly in my seat. It was rather suffocating sitting in such a hot bar dressed in tight leathers and a heavy cloak.

“I never said I enjoyed working for them,” Beady-Eyes argued, “but I won’t lie–there are some perks.”

I straightened my back.

“Oh? Do tell.”

Beady-Eyes shrugged, stretching out an arm over the back of his companion’s chair. “I know more about their plans than anyone else outside of the Council does, for one.”

“And what plans might they have?” There was a long pause, followed by a low chuckle. “Or are you too scared of them to tell your own brother?”

The meaty man laughed half-heartedly. “I’m not scared.” But I did hear fear tremble in his voice.

“So what’s this little plot they’re hatching? It’s a bit unoriginal if they’re going to force another city to surrender to them again.” Hook-Chin seemed rather excited about the information his brother was about to pass on to him, but then again, so was I. That was why I was here in the first place.

I’d tailed the two of them for half the day already, from the moment Beady-Eyes left his estate to meet up with his brother to the moment they stopped by the brothel so Hook-Chin could toss a purse in the form of a promise of a night of pleasure at one of the women who greeted him at the doorstep, and to this very moment where I watched them exchanging words that could earn them both a death sentence in the blink of an eye.

The Council’s advisor surveyed the room, his eyes passing over me carelessly. Then, in a low voice, he said, “They’re taking girls from their homes in the night and bringing them to the castle for the king.”

“The king sure knows how to have fun–”

“No, that’s not what this is.” There was a sliver of anger in Beady-Eyes’ tone. “I only know bits and pieces because they don’t tend to say much in front of me, but I hear they’re planning on doing a little experiment on those girls. Some sort of dark magic.”

I held my breath.

“But the king has forbidden dark magic for Gods knows how long. That’s impossible.”

Since the beginning of the age, practising dark magic had always been punished with torture or death, and in this instance, the latter was less painful than the first. Magic itself, whether light or dark, had always been known as a curse, so those who did practise it had done so in secret. Until the king banished it entirely five years ago when he took his father’s place, saving only those who were exceptional in their wielding to be a part of his Council of Celestials and the ones he’d bribed into servicing him while burning the rest. And now they used their retained magic to uphold righteousness in the kingdom–or perhaps not, apparently, from Beady-Eyes’ point of view.

“I’m telling you, the Council has something evil planned,” Beady-Eyes sneered, growing impatient. “Don’t give me that look, brother–it’s best not to interfere with their schemes, or it won’t be just your life in danger.”

The brother raised both of his hands in defence. “I’m not interfering with anything here. I just think they’re a bunch of hypocritical bastards. Even the king. I don’t know why he decided it was a good idea to establish the Council in the first place.”

They both fell silent as the barkeep wandered over to shove another bottle of whiskey in front of them, not paying any heed to their conversation. The bar was close to being empty now, save for the two brothers, me, and a group of young men in miners’ uniforms who were beginning to leave their table. I tugged at the hood over my head, hiding my dark hair as I wiped the blade of my dagger on the inside of my cloak.

The Council advisor sighed. “Things are different now. He’s destroyed almost everything the late king built.”

“I can see that.” Hook-Chin’s tone was sour.

“I shouldn’t even be telling you this. I risk losing my head if they ever find out–”

“Ever find out what?” The sound of steel colliding against wood resounded around the room as I pierced the tip of my dagger into the wooden table in front of the two men before dragging out a chair to sit myself down.

Wide eyes and panicked glances greeted me. I could smell the heavy stench of sweat.

I tilted my head. “Why the petrified looks? Weren’t you so high and mighty just now, relaying all that information to your brother?” The Council advisor gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. A sheen of sweat glazed his forehead.

The brother made a move to run, but before he could lift himself up from his seat, I seized him by the scruff of his collar and pushed him back down, his back hitting the splintering wood with a thump. He let out a cry as Beady-Eyes dropped his cigar and reached a hand into his jacket. I whipped out another dagger, a smaller one compared to the first, and jammed it into the gap between his fingers where they laid flat on the table surface.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I tutted.

“W-Who are you?” Hook-Chin stuttered.

I dropped back down into my chair, folding my arms over my chest as I surveyed them both. They didn’t look similar from afar, but up close, I noticed the resemblance in the shapes of their eyes and the slopes of their noses.

“Does it matter?” I challenged, feeling a faint spurt of enjoyment at their frightened expressions.

“Well, what do you want?” Beady-Eyes looked me up and down, but I doubted he could see much under the hood which hid my face well. “I work for the Council, so if you try anything–”

“I don’t want any trouble,” I cut him off. “But you should take care where you choose to talk about…whatever it is you were talking about.” I could taste their fear on my tongue.

Beady-Eyes swallowed again. “How much did you hear?”

I shrugged. “All of it.”

“I work for the Council,” he reiterated. “Whatever it is you want–money, a title, power–I can give it to you. Just in exchange for your secrecy.”

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“I don’t want your money,” I snarled. “And I know who you are, Archibald Fabeson. Your name is well known around these parts. You are responsible for most of the city’s renovation schemes, are you not? And your brother here, Amos–” I jerked my chin at Hook-Chin. “–He’s more of a thief than a merchant.”

Hook-Chin’s gaze darted between the two of us. “You know who we are?” His voice was ridiculously high-pitched.

Instead of replying, I plucked out the dagger from between Archibald’s fingers and sheathed it back in its place at my ribs. Both brothers watched me anxiously, beads of sweat rolling down their temples. Amos sunk further into his chair.

“I do have a question, though, if either of you care to answer it,” I said finally, my tone laced with boredom.

Archibald nodded slowly.

I leant forwards until my elbows touched the table. “I’m looking for a man. The same man who’s supposedly responsible for this shipment of women you’re talking about. Do you know where I can find him?”

“I don’t k-know who’s responsible.” The Council advisor risked another examination of me.

I let out a long sigh. “Shame. I guess you’re useless to me then.” I braced my hands on the table and made a move to leave. “I’m sure the Council would love to hear about how their beloved advisor is traipsing around, sharing their little secrets with outsiders.”

“Wait!”

I paused, giving Archibald an expectant look.

“I-I don’t know who’s responsible, but I do know someone who might be able to tell you more,” he gushed, pushing the hair out of his eyes.

“Name.”

“I don’t know his name–” I narrowed my eyes. “–But the people in the city call him Midnight.”

I raised a brow. “Midnight?”

“Yes, but he’s been held captive in the Black Tower for years,” Archibald said.

The Black Tower was the one place I knew the best. With people I couldn’t go through the effort to kill, I’d just thrown them in there. Most of them willingly let themselves be locked in a jail cell there, if it meant I didn’t change my mind and decide I wanted them dead after all.

“Perfect.”

Archibald winced. “Even if you do manage to get inside the Black Tower and find him, there’s no guarantee he’ll tell you what you want. He’s a trickster, a manipulator. He’ll get inside your head and–”

“That doesn’t concern you,” I shot back as I pushed out from my chair, snatching up the dagger lodged into the table.

Amos looked at me hesitantly. “Then what about…”

I gave them both a sweet smile. “Oh, don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.” The dagger weighed light in my palm. “I’m taking them to the grave.”

And then I slit their throats.

Blood sprayed everywhere, across the stone wall behind them and along the unswept ground, a pattern of crimson that I didn’t spare a second look at. A few droplets landed on my bare hand and I wiped it off with a grimace, hearing a cry from the barkeep. But a glare over my shoulder sent the man cowering back behind the counter, his head ducking below the shelves of cups and bottles. I turned back around to face the dead pair, their pale faces drawn and mouths agape in a soundless scream.

“You could’ve made less of a mess,” a deep voice behind me said, and I wheeled around in an instant, sending the bloody danger flying across the space between me and the doorway, where it embedded itself into the frame with a satisfying crack, mere inches from the head of the tall male who was staring at me with an eyebrow cocked and his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Hello, Aeress.”

I rolled my eyes, stalking over to retract the dagger before rubbing the silver edge on the hem of my cloak. “Did I or did I not tell you not to follow me here?”

The Captain of the Guard brushed past me and snatched up a bottle of whiskey discarded on one of the tables, turning it over in his hand with feigned interest. I knew the dark blue cloak he wore covered the royal family’s insignia, a white dragon encircling a golden star, which was embroidered on the back of his uniform jacket. I watched him cast his eyes to the corpses of the brothers I’d killed, his smirk fading into a frown.

With his tone grave, he said, “I didn’t. It was His Majesty’s orders to come find you here. Apparently he needs your help again with something.”

“Jealous?” I probed with a grin.

It was his turn to roll his eyes as he pivoted to face me. “I don’t think anyone could ever be jealous of what you do, when all it is is slaughtering.”

My heart lurched in my chest, but I didn’t let any form of a reaction show in my expression. I knew he meant it as a joke, but there was some truth behind his words. I probably couldn’t even count on my fingers the number of lives I’d taken in the last month. But only because I’d had to, never because I’d wanted to.

I toyed with my dagger. “And all you do is sit on your ass all day, waiting for something to happen. What an exhilarating life it is you live, Captain Brenton James.”

“Sitting on my ass all day got me that title, didn’t it?” He mused, reaching for my hood. “Why do you always wear this thing? It’s like a thousand degrees in this place.”

I recoiled from his touch and his hand dropped back down to his side. His gaze hardened slightly.

“Where is the king?” I quickly changed the subject, drawing in a sharp breath.

Brenton gestured at the little alleway and the carriage drawn by a single horse parked in front of it that I could see through the window. “Waiting outside for you.” His voice was quiet.

“I believe my thanks are in order for fetching me,” I said to him, tucking my weapon into its strap on my thigh this time.

Brenton placed a hand on my shoulder, which I gave a quick glance at before meeting his dark eyes, a shade of green that reminded me of the forest. “Word of warning, Aeress, His Majesty isn’t in a particularly good mood today.”

“I shall see you later, Captain,” I said curtly in reply.

He didn’t answer as he followed me out of the bar, his hand resting casually over the hilt of his sword, an ancient blade which I’d always seen strapped tightly to his hip. No townspeople turned our way. At least we blended in with what we were wearing, neither of us allowing anyone any chance to detect that we were at all tied to the royal family.

The driver stepped down from his seat behind the horse and dipped his head in my direction as I approached. The make of his suit and the small brooch of a white dragon pinned to his breast indicated he worked for the king. I did not return his greeting, only giving my surroundings one last scan before I slid into the carriage, careful not to shake it as I perched myself gently on the seat opposite the white-blonde haired, blue-eyed young king, finally sweeping back my hood to reveal what was underneath. The one thing I only ever did around the king, because only he was allowed to see who and what I was. I could feel the weight of the silver mask on the right side of my face.

“Your Majesty, you wanted to see me?” I asked, taking in the teapot and cups laid out before him, finished off with a pair of silver spoons and a dish of spherical sugar cubes.

“Aeress,” he said, giving me a once-over like he did each time he summoned my presence. His icy blue eyes glazed over momentarily with worry, and I could tell he had noticed the splatter of blood across the black leathers I wore. “What…”

“Not mine,” I assured, unsheathing every blade on my body, even the one tucked into my boot, before placing them gently on the small table between us. I always did it so he would know I would not harm him.

The king had not changed much since the day I met him in the throne room where I knelt before him and his father, except he had grown more into his features, and his hair was longer than he’d usually kept it, and maybe even more silver than blonde compared to before. His eyes were still a steely blue, striking against skin of snow white. He was utterly breathtaking, like a snowflake dancing in the wind.

He needed my protection because his body was as fragile as one too.

From the age of twelve, he’d fallen incredibly ill and was bedridden for months, and when he had finally been strong enough to recover, the physicians had claimed that the illness had taken away his ability to walk. Years of suffering in a wheelchair followed by a walking stick, however, meant that he could spend his time and experience strengthening his mind. And that had been exactly what he’d done.

Even his own father feared him before his death.

The king nodded slowly, twisting his head to glance out the window at the bustling street and the driver guarding the carriage. It was a clever thing to have chosen a simple ride–one which bore the insignia of the royal family would have promised trouble if the less well-off townspeople noticed, especially if they were rather bitter about the king’s establishment of the Council like the Amos Fabeson, the brother of the Council advisor I’d killed.

“Are you hurt at all?” He said, his voice soft but demanding. He didn’t look at me as he spoke.

“No, Your Majesty.” I bowed my head.

“Good, good,” he murmured, pouring steaming tea from the pot into a fancy china cup identical to his own before sliding it across the table to me. “Drink.”

I didn’t need to be told twice before I took it from him, feeling his gaze upon me the whole time, judging, calculating, pondering. I let myself relish in a single sip, feeling the burning liquid slide down my throat and warming the pit of my stomach.

“What is it that I may assist you with, Your Majesty?” I said a minute later, avoiding looking at my reflection on the surface of the teapot.

He noticed and pushed it aside so that it sat touching the wall of the carriage a metre away from me as he sighed. White-blonde locks fell over his face elegantly. “Valentine. My name is Valentine.”

He never forgot to remind me.

“Valentine.” I let his name drag out for a moment as I waited for his response to my question, which he saw in my expression.

“I need you to ensure the shipment transfer is carried out smoothly tonight. The docks are a dangerous place, especially during this time of year,” he instructed, his face devoid of emotion. “Oh, and make sure they go straight to the palace–no shortcuts or detours.”

When the trading was flourishing and townspeople had more time to spare, it was common practice for them to hijack anything from the fleets of cargo ships that would cross the borders every once a month to bring to the city what the king and the Council needed.

I’d known about the shipment of girls long before the Fabeson brothers spilled that secret in the bar, but I never skipped an opportunity to play with my food before I devoured them. And as for the conspiracy about Council harbouring usage of dark magic–people would believe whatever they thought they heard. Working for the king for a decade meant I knew every single plan the Council put into place, and they needed the girls to train them to become the newly established line of Truthbringers, a group who would work under the king and the Council’s command to filter out deceit within the kingdom, with the courtesy of a little magic, of course. There would be no dark magic involved like Archibald Fabeson had claimed.

Valentine had sworn so.

But the information I’d acquired from Archibald about Midnight was information I intended to keep to myself.

“Of course,” I agreed, setting down the cup.

Valentine looked at me for a long while, the only sound passing between us being the chatter and crunch of carriage wheels on gravel and cobblestone outside. Then, he said with wavering gentleness, “I never like asking you for help. It feels…burdensome.”

I shook my head at him, reaching under the layers of leather and fabric to retrieve the single gold chain around my neck, the twin of the one around Kalvian’s own neck which hung over the lapel of his jacket. “Never.”

All those men and women I’d killed in the decade I had served him–they were all people he had asked me to kill, and people I had decided to kill to keep him safe.

“Now and forever, remember?” I reminded him.

He cocked his head to the side, examining the chain as if he had never seen it before, even though he had been the one who’d gifted it to me the year he rose to the throne as a token of our bond.

“Yes, I remember: Now and forever,” he echoed, like he couldn’t quite believe it until he’d said it out loud.

“Shall I prepare now?” I prompted, reaching for the carriage door, but Valentine’s hand grasped my own before I could open it. My heart lurched in my chest.

“No. I want you to ride with me back to the palace.”

I nodded, retrieving my hand as Valentine signalled to the driver to take us on our way. A ghost of a smile graced his lips when the carriage started moving, leaving the streets of Javia behind.

“You can set off when night falls.”

I guessed Midnight would have to wait.