MARCH 1601
INVERNESS, SCOTLAND
Sylvi’s entire life had built up to this one moment. She’d sacrificed, she’d trained, she’d gone without. And now she would learn to kill.
The noblewoman she watched stood alone in the courtyard, her dress vivid red against the somber gray stonework of the castle behind her. She moved with the grace of a mountain cat, and could be just as lethal.
The woman spun once, her skirts lifting out like the petals of a poppy, and slammed her fist into an invisible enemy before bringing her elbow upward. My Lady. The woman who held the life Sylvi desired.
How many times had Sylvi watched this careful practice, only to return to her humble lodgings and mimic those very moves?
Far too many to count, but they were in her mind now. In her blood and her soul and her heart.
Determination flared through her. She was ready.
Her feet were silent on the uneven cobblestones, her body pressed to the shadowed wall behind her. Her heart pattered in her chest at a speed she could not control. With a deep, even breath, she slid the dagger from her pocket and took aim.
“You think I don’t see you there, Girl?” My Lady crossed an arm in front of her and brought it down, severing an attack from her invisible partner. Her gaze did not shift to the shadows. “Throw it.”
She turned her back to Sylvi with such nonchalance, it could only have been done as a challenge.
Sylvi kept her fingers loose on the blade and let finesse rather than strength free the cool metal from her grip. It sailed smoothly through the air, toward the bright red back facing her. My Lady swept from its path and stared through the veil of shadows directly into Sylvi’s soul.
The movement had been so abrupt, My Lady’s skirts swayed around her still body. She lifted a finger and curled it, beckoning. “Come here, Girl.”
This was it. Sylvi grit her teeth against the tensing anxiety screaming through her and forced action into her stiffening limbs.
My Lady nudged the fallen blade with the toe of her satin slipper. “I see you finally have a proper weapon.” The smirk on her lips told Sylvi she remembered all too well the last time Sylvi had used a bit of wood in place of a dagger.
The weapon had come at a high cost. Sylvi’s cheeks burned at the recollection of how it’d been procured, but she shoved the memory down. She never wanted to think on that again.
There were many things she never wanted to think on again.
She stooped to pick up the dagger. The leather braid on its hilt settled warm against her palm despite the chill in the air. Her breath came short and shallow with what she was about to say.
She squeezed her hand around the dagger. “I’m ready.”
My Lady lifted her head and regarded Sylvi for a long moment. While not particularly beautiful with her narrow lips and sharp jaw, she somehow presented an allure regardless, an air of mystery and danger.
Silence widened between them and begged to be filled with justifications. Sylvi had endured loneliness to maintain discretion, sustained deprivation to practice her training, maintained the determination she’d held steadfastly to all these years in her clutch of hope.
But arguments and pleas would not work with My Lady, no words would.
Sylvi tucked the dagger into the battered belt at her side and threw a punch at the woman she sought to have as her mentor. Never before had Sylvi been so bold.
My Lady ducked to the side, easily avoiding the blow.
“How long have you been following me now, Girl? Seven years?” She lunged forward and her fist flew at Sylvi’s face.
Sylvi threw her hands up to block the hit. Something hard and strong slammed into her stomach, nearly knocking the wind from her.
“Ten years, My Lady.” Sylvi backed up and straightened, recovering easily after having built up the necessary strength in her abdomen for such a blow. “And I’m no girl anymore.”
My Lady’s gaze slipped down Sylvi’s body. “No,” she conceded. “You’re not. You’ve gone from being a foreign gutter rat to something becoming. In fact, you’ve grown to be rather lovely in that savage way these Highland men like.” Her forefinger wagged the air between them. “Yet your manner of speech is fine enough to land you in the heart of James’s court without arousing a lick of suspicion. How did you manage?”
Sylvi had not realized how roughly she’d spoken until My Lady had pointed it out. She’d been only a girl then, one who easily blended into crowds, as unnoticed by the wealthy as rubbish heaped in a dark alley. “I followed the noblewomen of Edinburgh,” she replied. “Same as I followed you.”
“Clever girl.” My Lady’s eyes narrowed. “Clever woman.” She swept her leg toward Sylvi’s feet, but Sylvi leapt into the air and easily landed without her balance rocked. With footing so sure, Sylvi did not need to wait to recover and drove her elbow in the direction of the other woman’s temple.
My Lady caught her arm and held it in a merciless grip. Her blue eyes were chips of sapphire when they met Sylvi’s. “Clever women are dangerous.”
“Clever women are advantageous with the right alliances.” Sylvi wrenched her elbow free. “You know that better than most.” She pulled back and slammed her fist into My Lady’s jaw too fast for the woman to block her.
A smile quirked at My Lady’s lips. “You’re better than I thought, Girl.” She touched a finger to her mouth and looked down at a smear of bright blood. “If I train you, there will be rules.”
Sylvi’s heartbeat doubled at those words. Never had they even begun to discuss Sylvi truly joining her. For years, it had all been a list of reasons why she couldn’t. A long list.
But she hadn’t accepted defeat. She’d adapted, addressing every “no” and improving herself until every excuse had been struck from the list.
“I understand.” Her voice was stronger than the quivering mass of her insides.
My Lady held her gaze. “If you do not abide by those rules, you will pay with your life.”
“I understand,” Sylvi repeated. “But I also would like to make a request.”
My Lady stared at her for a long moment, and then a laugh erupted from her red painted lips. “You would make a request of me?” Her hand waved in the air with embellished invitation. “By all means … ”
Sylvi’s breathing went shallow, and her lips tingled. This one request was bold. It could be the one thing that ruined her chances. But it was also the one thing that had driven her so far. “When I find the man I’m looking for and the men who follow him, I want permission to leave so that I may pursue them.”
The sun overhead was blotted out with a swell of graying clouds. Sylvi refrained from allowing an ominous shiver to trickle down her spine.
“The man with half an ear.” My Lady had said it casually, but her knowledge jabbed into Sylvi’s heart.
“How do you know?” Sylvi whispered above the pounding of her pulse.
“Do you think I’d allow you to follow me and act as my page without learning more about you? After so many unsuccessful years, you most likely will not find him.” My Lady paused and regarded Sylvi. “What would you do if you did?”
The kindling of hatred roared through Sylvi at the very thought. “I’ll kill him.”
“You’re very determined for one so young. What happened to you?”
The image flashed in Sylvi’s mind before she could stop it. Her family, all with the same white-blonde hair as hers, their eyes pale blue and seeing nothing. The slashes at their necks gaping like macabre second mouths. Their screams echoed in her skull, her mother’s pleading to spare the children.
Sylvi jerked her head to the side, as if she could fling the memories out.
The scar at her throat burned with the memory. Her fingers found the coarse ribbon tied around her neck before she realized what she was doing. “You have your secrets.” Her voice came out so rough, it was near unrecognizable. “And I have mine.”
My Lady’s gaze fixed on the ribbon, and for a moment Sylvi worried she might be told to remove it. The blood roared in her ears.
“You may have your request. I will agree to train you, but not work with you. I work alone.” My Lady’s stare softened. “You must know he will be hard to find. And know killing will not bring you what you seek. Death brings consequences, not solace.”
Rain spit down at them from the swollen skies. My Lady bent to retrieve her belongings. “Get your things, Girl. You’ll be staying here from now on rather than that hovel you call a home.”
“My name is—”
“Girl.” My Lady straightened. “And I am My Lady to you.”
Sylvi nodded in compliance and gazed up at the towering height of the stone manor. Bits of stone and mortar had flaked away, and the structure had gone dark with age, but it was the most beautiful home Sylvi had ever seen.
She would be living there, training with My Lady.
And regardless of what the death of her enemies would bring her, they would still be dead, and her family would be avenged.