I’m good at a lot of things, but best of all is surviving.
I’ve got a knack for it that comes almost too easy, with barely a scar to show for years of close calls. I know how to fight, sure, but it’s more than that.
The greatest skill my father taught me was how to work a room. How to get inside someone’s mind and convince them I’m worth keeping around.
That I’ve got something special in me.
A lot of things have limits, but charm is rarely one of them. And I’m going to need that charm more than ever now.
We approach the Floating Mountain, ready to make our way to the top.
“In the list of stupid ideas you’ve had, this one takes the lead,” Micah says.
I look to my best friend and fellow Last Army soldier with a grin. He adjusts the blade on his back and keeps an eye on the crowd of people behind us.
Micah is always suspicious of anyone and everyone who isn’t me.
“You’re making a list of all my bad ideas?” I ask.
We step onto the enchanted platform, a thin sheet of elaborately crafted gold that backs onto a tree tall enough to reach the stars.
It’s the fastest way up the mountain, where the king’s castle lies.
Micah nods. “It’s a long damn list.”
I shrug. He’s got a point.
“This can’t be at the top,” I tell him. “What about that time during initiations when we decided to sneak into the sergeant’s cabin and steal his—”
“Okay, okay,” Micah says quickly, not wanting me to repeat that story out loud. “This is the second-stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”
He’s not wrong, but just because something’s dangerous, it doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. Sometimes, the riskiest things reap the greatest rewards.
“It’s not too late to change your mind, you know,” Micah says.
The enchanted platform begins to ascend, the sky flicking by us as it gains traction. I look out at the world below, at the people who seem so small and barely there.
At the island of Vasiliádes the king has built his empire around.
From up here it looks peaceful, almost beautiful in a way that might rival the Southern Isle of Polemistés.
But it’s a lie.
I can still hear the Endless Sea, crashing against the boats and tufts of land, like an invader trying to force its way in. The black waters swarm, refusing to freeze over even in the dead of winter when snow coats the streets. They drink the ice, burning it back to liquid. And on summer days like today when the sun beats down, the waters still ripple and swell with all the cursed magic the king placed inside them.
“If you’re scared, you don’t have to come,” I say to Micah.
The platform docks and I step quickly off, breezing past the entry guards.
The castle grounds are beautiful, surrounded by never-ending greenery and hedges ripe with the sweetest fruit. Even the rocks are such a bright silver that people say they’re carved from shooting stars.
Such beauty to house such monsters.
Micah jogs to keep step with me.
“I’m not scared,” he protests. “And I’m not leaving you to the wolves.”
I roll my eyes. “Seryth isn’t a wolf. He’s just a man.”
“What about the witches?” Micah counters in a hushed voice. “They’re not men and they can’t be killed as easily as you or I. Their magic protects them, even from death. The witches are as endless as the king himself.”
“Witch,” I correct, lowering my voice as we navigate the path, lined by guards.
This whole place is a fortress.
For an immortal, the king sure does worry about his enemies.
“There’s only really one witch,” I remind Micah. “Theola’s daughter won’t come into her true powers for years. She won’t be any trouble.”
Micah’s eyes dart quickly to the castle guards, to make sure none of them heard me.
“You might try keeping your voice down when you talk about treason,” he says. “Stealth, Nox. Stealth.”
I shake my head and come to a stop. “You should really stay here.”
Micah’s a liability when he worries and that’s the last thing I need right now.
He straightens and his hand drifts to his sword. “I said I’m not letting you go in there by yourself,” he says stubbornly.
It’s a nice sentiment, really, but it’s not necessary.
I push his hand back down. “Relax, soldier,” I say, my voice light enough to let him know I’m not worried. “Soak up the sun, woo a pretty guard. Wait for me here.”
Micah’s eyes crease as he tries to weigh up whether or not to listen to me.
“If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming in after you,” he says.
I smirk. “If I’m not back in ten minutes, there’s nothing left of me to come after.”
Walking into the king’s castle is like stepping into a prison.
The walls are high and black, dark as the king’s eyes and tall as clouds, with intricate threads of gold whisking across them like strokes of wind.
The marble floors resemble the Endless Sea enough so that I half expect my feet to slip through the tiles and meet water.
Instead, when I walk across them, my footsteps sound like a clock.
Like the hands of my father’s pocket watch, which were just as loud.
Ticktock.
Come on, Nox! Just a bit faster!
Ticktock.
That’s it! You’ll be top of your class come initiation, son!
I haven’t looked at that watch in years. It sits in a drawer in the barracks now, gathering dust and cobwebs, hidden behind old papers and my favorite knife.
When my footsteps echo its chimes, I don’t hear my father’s cheering voice anymore. I only hear the king’s.
Ticktock. Ticktock.
Ready to die, are we, Nox?
I approach a group of guards outside the Grand Hall, readying to let the last seeker through.
Each year, only two hundred are allowed to enter into the bargain and risk their souls. I’m not sure why. Maybe Seryth and his witch bore if they see too many.
“I need to speak to the king,” I say to the guard closest to the door.
He wears a uniform the same thunderstorm blue as mine. It hangs off him loosely, making him seem young, like he still needs to grow into it.
“Name?” he asks.
“Officer Nox Laederic,” I say. “Of the Thánatos Regiment.”
The moment my words register, the guard’s lips part.
I guess we do have a bit of a reputation, but only part of it’s my fault.
“You—you’re—”
“Better looking in person, I know. Can I pass?”
“Is the king expecting you?” the guard asks, voice going up a pitch.
“Sure, I scheduled a meeting in his diary and put a little heart next to it,” I say earnestly.
The guard doesn’t return my grin, but instead fumbles with the large collar of his shirt. “I’m not supposed to…” He trails off. “We’ve still got one more prediction seeker left. Could you come back later?”
I can’t help but laugh.
Years of preparation and all day convincing myself it’s now or never, only to be turned away at the door.
If Micah were here, he’d get a kick out of it. Or think it was some kind of sign I should turn back and forget the whole thing.
But that isn’t an option.
“I guess I’m that one more,” I say to the guard.
I brush past him and place a hand on the door, pushing it open a crack.
Nobody is going to try to stop a member of the Last Army.
Especially one with a sword.
“Wish me luck,” I say.
The guard blinks, mouth agape as I saunter into the Grand Hall.
I don’t bother to count how many guards line the room. I’m trained to know, to always be prepared, but tonight I can only focus on one thing.
Or three things.
Seryth, king of the Six Isles, who my father served for years. Who my entire family served for generations. His lips turn up in a smile as he watches me from his stolen throne.
His witch, with her snake eyes and fingernails long enough to draw blood.
And the heir.
Selestra Somniatis.
I definitely can’t help but look at her.
Her skin is so pale that it’s almost aglow, with hair the color of clovers that slithers down her back and to her waist, reflecting the light of the windows outside like a river.
It almost looks long enough to climb towers with.
Her eyes, large and yellow, watch me with intrigue, and a half smile slips onto her bloodred lips.
She’s truly beautiful.
It’s a shame she has to die.