Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords Book 3) (10 page)

“You won’t miss a fight. And you won’t need to stay longer than a night if you don’t want to. My reasons are personal only. Nothing to do with the king. But it’s important to me that you’re there,” I say quickly.

Shard eyes me for a long moment. “Done,” he says.

“Sure thing, girly.”

Blizzard and Crystal nod.

Avalanche smiles at me, while Alzona stays silent. That aside, there’s just one thing left for me to do here.

“Alzona? Can I speak to you in private?” She doesn’t want to grant my request. I think my mention of Blaine has already put her on alert. I hold her gaze and eventually she huffs, leading the way out of the mess room.

She steps into the tiny space I used to occupy and shuts the door. Some of my possessions are still scattered around.

“What?” she asks.

This isn’t going to be easy, and I don’t know where to start. After a small deliberation, I decide to start at the beginning, and take a deep breath.

“What I’ve always liked about this place is we each have a past we’re running from, and that’s respected. I understand sharing your past is not an easy thing. I know this firsthand. We hide the truth so deeply it becomes second nature to keep it buried.” I take another breath as I edge sideways in the tiny space between the bed and wall.

“Glacium’s situation is dire. You’re aware of the civil unrest, but I wonder what you know of the inter-world situation?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says. “Just rumors.”

It’s what I expected. Even with the army mobilizing to the First. “The Solati army is on the Great Stairway,” I say, without preamble. “The king’s watch are camped at the top of the First Sector lying in wait. For now the Tatum’s army is delayed. But it’s not certain she’s stopped.”

Alzona gasps. Obviously the people spreading the rumors are misinformed.

“This is told to you in the utmost secrecy." I need to outline the gravity of what’s happening right now. "If this civil rebellion gets any bigger and the Tatum’s army makes it through the Great Stairway, then Glacium will crumble beneath the power of the Solati army. The king cannot fight two wars. I doubt anyone can.”

“That’s why I’m helping the women, and lending you Ice,” she says hesitantly. She knows I’m not finished.

“I need more from you, and I truly apologize for what I’m going to ask you, but it cannot be helped.” I look up into her fierce cobalt eyes.

“What do you know of Blaine?”

Her eyes harden, even as her breath comes quickly. It’s self-preservation in its simplest form.

“He is the cause of this,” I continue. “I have proof. Letters, documents. But if you know Blaine at all, you’ll know how sly he is. Apparently, he was also the previous king’s trusted friend.”

“I know that!” she snaps.

“Then you realize why I need to make sure he’s trapped before I present my evidence to the king. He requires proof.” Because he’s too stubbornly loyal to believe me, I silently add. Alzona sits on the bed and studies her hands. She knows deep down I wouldn’t make this request if the situation wasn’t dire. But she’s successfully hidden for years. I know how difficult it is to throw off self-oppression, so I resist the urge to shake her. “You could give Glacium a fighting chance against this attack. If we remove Blaine from the head of this movement, then I believe we can end the troubles crippling Glacium from within,” I say breathlessly.

“Do it,” a voice says from the doorway. I whirl, dropping into a crouch.

Crystal stands there. She stares down at Alzona with emotionless eyes, though I gather from her clenched fists that she’s not as calm as she’d like us to believe.

“You said you wanted to make things right between us,” Crystal says in a brittle voice. “Then do this.”

Alzona sits up straight. “How will doing
this
make us any better? You’re angry because I didn’t jump into the Dome to save you! How will my story make anything right?” She leaps to her feet. I back away so she doesn’t feel trapped. It’s easier said than done in the minuscule area. I really shouldn’t complain about my room back at the castle.

“Because I know what it means to you!” Crystal cries. “If you can give this up because I ask it, then I’ll know I mean something to you. If saving this world isn’t good enough for you, then do it for me.”

“Trust goes both ways. I still don’t know who you really are,” Alzona retorts.

“Adox has revealed the Ire to the king,” I interject softly. Alzona will have no idea what I’m saying, but I direct the comment at Crystal who starts, looking at me with fearful eyes. She’ll understand this means she can tell Zona. She’ll also know something huge has happened to make Adox divulge their location. No doubt Crystal will have a few questions about the Ire for me later.

Crystal turns to Alzona. “If you can do this for me, I’ll tell you all you wish. And you’ll see why I couldn’t tell you before,” she says to the taller, dark-haired woman. Their eyes lock as they communicate without words.

Alzona is the first to lower her eyes. “I’ll do it,” she croaks. Crystal gives a short jerk of her head and spins around, leaving the room. I lean against the paper-thin wall, hoping it doesn’t give way while I wait for Alzona to collect her thoughts. My old grey uniform is sitting folded on the bed. I wonder who placed it there. The tough yet free life I had here seems like an age ago.

Alzona pushes her hair back with shaking hands. I straighten, sensing she’s ready to begin.

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just go ahead and get it out,” she says in a small voice. I hate the sound. It doesn’t sit right on her.

The barracks owner stares at a spot on the wall beside me.

“Blaine is my father.”

“What?” I stare at her in horror. Blaine is Alzona’s father?

“I’m his only legitimate child, from his first marriage,” she states. The delivery of her words is emotionless. I recognize it as the same tone Shard used while relating Avalanche’s tortured history. Alzona is trying to distance herself from the terrors of her past. I watch as she opens and closes her mouth. She doesn’t seem to know how to continue.

“I know his current wife, Macy. It was she who approached me, asking for self-defense to use against Blaine,” I offer.

Alzona doesn’t display shock like most would at this news. Her reaction tells me more than anything else so far. Empathy for Macy burns from her dark blue eyes.

“Then it’s easier to say,” she sighs. “He beat me. He beat us both. One day he beat my mother until she was a pulpy mess on the kitchen floor. He killed her.” Her voice breaks. She stands, hugging herself. My heart breaks as I finally see her without her sarcastic, defensive and ruthless armor. Her vulnerability will haunt me forever.

“I ran away that night,” she whispers. “I’m the sole witness to his crime. He’ll want me dead. He’s been searching for me for a long time. But I have no idea what his plans are. I haven’t seen him in nearly fifteen years. I don’t want to ever see him again,” she begs.

I edge closer and enfold her in my arms, not sure whether this will make her shut down. She shakes in my arms.

I reach up to stroke her hair. “While Blaine is allowed to roam free, you’ll always be looking behind you. Help me. Help
yourself
to be rid of him once and for all.”

* * *

I sleep on the lumpy mattress in my cramped room filled with the echoes of the night. I force my eyes to stay open as long as possible, but eventually I fall asleep to the beautiful strumming of Blizzard’s guitar. It sounds odd, though, without Flurry’s snores punctuating through at regular intervals.

Despite this, I feel curiously content the next day. I’d intended to return to the castle, but there’s other business to attend to. If I do it today, I won’t have to return to the Outer Rings. I’m not sure when I’ll get another chance.

The mess room is in full swing when I enter. Avalanche is serving up breakfast from a large pot. Ice slides a loaded plate down the table to me as I sit.

“You got yerself some followers,” he says.

I dig into the food, swallowing a hot mouthful of eggs. “What?” I ask, eyes watering. The others share a grim look.

“Two men. Never seem ‘em before, so I guess they aren't taking their eyes off these barracks because they’re taggin’ you for someone,” he replies.

A thought occurs to me. I open my mouth to speak, but I’m cut off. “Not king’s men,” Ice continues.

It’s gratifying to know Jovan didn’t go against my request.

“Can you find out who they belong to?” I ask.

Ice snorts, spraying eggs over Crystal. Shard and I share an amused glance as Crystal picks the bits out of her strawberry-blonde hair, a disgusted expression on her delicate face. “‘Course I can, girly.”

I start to rise from the table, eggs forgotten, but a pointed look from Avalanche has me sinking back down and picking up some bread. He’s as soft as fur despite his scarred features, but he’s still four times my size, and he gets offended when people don’t eat his food.

“I’ve got things to do today. I’ve got to go see Wi-, uh, Leila,” I say.

“You need the tags gone?” Ice asks. I nod.

“Preferably. I don’t want to cause trouble for the brothel.” I shovel the last bite in and stand. This time Shard stands behind me. Across from me, Blizzard folds his arms over his muscled chest and grins.

“You’ll have your chance to visit the whorehouse. But I think it’s high time you did some training. That fancy stuff at the castle has probably taken your edge away,” Shard says.

They do have a point. I have all day. A smile spreads across my face. A little training can’t hurt…

* * *

I hobble down the laneway in the direction of the courtyard. Training hurt.

I blink as a hunched woman waves at me, displaying all three of her teeth. I swear that very same woman told me to fuck off last sector. It doesn’t stop. As I continue, children run ahead of me, giggling, and toothless men dip their head as I pass.

The thrashing crowd parts like a hot knife through butter.

What on Solis is going on? The habits from my childhood kick in, I measure my gait and relax my shoulders, never once giving away my discomfort. But unlike my mother’s court, the people around me don’t seem hostile. In fact, it seems like ... approval? I’ve seen the masses part for Willow, in lust. And I’ve seen them part for Blizzard, in respect.

“You’ll help us kill ‘em all, girly,” a man slurs. I push him out of the way, then recall Shard’s words about “feeling the difference.”

I look back for the man, but he’s disappeared in the throng of poor. My eyes dart side to side. Did people used to have their heads together in whispered conversation? I don’t remember, but there are several concentrated groups of dodgy-looking men.

I enter the whorehouse and keep my expression neutral at the multitude of naked women before me. At least I know what to expect this time. A finely dressed older woman I’ve seen before but never spoken with whispers to a young girl—I shudder to think how young. The naked girl runs up the stairs and the woman approaches me.

“You are Frost,” she states.

“I am.” I nod. “And you own this … establishment?” I ask politely. The woman gives a tinkling laugh in response. I wonder if she copied it from Willow, or the other way around.

“I can see what Willow means.”

I frown. “I’m not sure—”

She grips my elbow in a clawed hand and directs me to the side. She leans in close, breath sweet. “I must thank you for ridding us of Slay. He was a menace to this world. This house is glad to be free of him.”

I remove my elbow from her grip and level a look into her keen blue eyes. From the limited bits of information I gathered during my time in the Outer Rings, I know Slay raped and brutalized many women here. There’s a connection between the whorehounds, Hale’s barracks, and the brothel. The scum must own, or have power over the whores here. “You’re welcome. He lived far longer than he should’ve. Ursa’s family and the countless others here can rest easy now.”

The woman’s eyes become misty, but she doesn’t trouble to hide it from me. “We are each other’s family. And yes, it’s … easier now he’s gone.” She looks over her shoulder at a group of men, moving away without another word when one scowls in our direction. One of Hale’s men? Or a whorehound?

I’ve always assumed the workers here would leave once they found another way to live, but perhaps it isn’t that simple. Maybe the women here are not
allowed
to leave.

A chiming laugh lights up the room. A smile spreads on my face. It’s hard not to smile around Willow—the real Willow, that is, not my Ire persona. I climb the stairs to meet the Outer Ring’s most sought-after whore. She takes my hand in a tender hold. I give her a dry look and see her eyes dance with mischief.

“Come, my lover,” she says in a throaty voice. I snort quietly at the deep groans below us.

She doesn’t break character as she draws me up the stairs, giving me smoky looks. A few men trail us up the stairs until she closes the door of her room in their faces. She’s the best whore for a reason. I know many of her clients are from the middle and inner ring. With her long black hair and lithe, barely clothed frame, she drove the men wild, drawing in those around her without effort.

“What brings you here, Frost?” She smiles without artifice away from the salivating men.

I glance around her room with interest. Soft furs and floaty fabrics are draped artistically around the large bed—the room’s centerpiece—to create a sultry and inviting view. I doubt the men who visit Willow even notice, but it’s artfully decorated.

An understated wardrobe sits against the wall, but I know this is her pride and joy.

“Bought any new dresses?” I ask. Her expression asks if I’m serious. She flings the doors open with glee and carefully removes a deep red dress. Really, it could be a scarf. I know not to embarrass myself by asking if this is the case.

“Did you ever get that black material?” she asks. I used the lie as a cover story when I was looking for fabric to replace my veil last sector.

“Yes, in a way,” I muse, thinking of the dress I wore to the ball. Memories of the dress still mortified me. She gives me an odd look, waiting for me to explain.

I get back to business instead. “I have a proposition for you. For all of the women here.”

“Mmmhmm,” she says. She places the red dress back in the wardrobe with loving hands.

“I work for the king now,” I say.

“With him, or under him?” she asks.

I tilt my head trying to dissect the amused look she’s giving me. “Well, under him. He’s the king.” She bursts out laughing. Not the chime laugh—a real one.

I frown and move on once she’s settled. “The king is aware of the issues in the Outer Rings. There are many ways he wishes to improve the situation for the poor of Glacium, and I’ve encouraged him to start with protecting the women and children.”

This stops her laughter. She dashes a lingering tear away, stepping toward me. “How?”

There are only a few things in life that Willow takes seriously, but the safety of the women here is one of them. I outline my plan for her in detail. There’s no laughter in her eyes as she listens to my words.

“And Alzona…” she says dubiously, “…is okay with this plan?”

Alzona will be proud of her cutthroat reputation. “You’d be surprised at how passionate Zona is about it,” I say, remembering her reaction last night. Alzona
never
did anything for free.

I stand, giving the beautiful young woman some space. “From what I’ve heard, the women below you are shown great cruelty by the scum living in the Outer Rings. Who better to teach self-defense to?”

“The idea is sound. It’s the mistress I’ll have to convince. You’re high in her regard after dealing with Slay, but there’s the whorehounds to consider. They control this show. They won’t be happy to know we’re learning to defend ourselves,” she says.

My dealings with the whorehounds is limited, but bloodied. I didn’t know how many they were, or really anything else about them, other than the fact they pushed the young into prostitution. You don’t have to count how many teeth a dog has to know it can bite. Every part of my being told me the whorehounds were evil.

I’m already prepared for this. “Long term, the whorehounds will be out of the picture. In the short term I thought we could invite a few of them to a ‘fake training.’ If we show them a clumsy, weak act, they’ll see it as a joke.”

A wicked smile curves Willow’s red lips. “A joke until we crush them?”

I shrug with feigned innocence and head to the door. “I return to the castle tomorrow. If you don’t have your answer before then—”

“We’ll do it.”

Willow faces me. The light behind illuminates her frame underneath the thin material and I keep my gaze steadfastly on her face. I know she isn’t embarrassed by these things, but I am.

“I’ll convince the mistress. This is the way forward. I see it. You won’t lead us astray.” I’m dumbfounded by her sincerity. It reminds me of the behavior I witnessed outside.

“In that case, Alzona will be in touch to arrange the particulars.” I place my hand on the doorknob. “Have you noticed anything different around here? I saw a couple of weird things on my way over,” I venture.

She shrugs. “You mean the uprising?” I try not to gape at her openness. I’d mentioned the king’s plan to improve the Outer Rings, but not the rebellion itself. I should’ve known she’d see straight through that. “Uh, yeah.”

“Most of the men here are involved,” she says. “A couple of weeks ago they organized raids in the Middle Ring. Killed a whole heap of rich folk. But they’ve had to go underground now that the king’s men are sniffing them out.” She winks at me. “Best stay inside after dark. Though they’ll probably just want to recruit you.”

“About that. Do you know why everyone’s suddenly being nice to me here?” I ask.

It is her turn to be surprised. It quickly turns to amusement. “Only you wouldn’t guess the reason,” she chimes, swaying toward me. “You saved two barracks from slaughter and took out Slay in the same day. You laughed at death while nearly destroying the Dome. Some say you drank an entire flagon of brew during the fight. Others are saying you kissed the mouth of everyone you killed.” The mischievous glint is back in her eyes. “I started that one.”

“Thanks,” I say dryly. She giggles.

“You’re a hero, Frost.” Her words make my insides freeze. I swing the door open.

Willow speaks behind me and I pause on the threshold. “You’re
our
hero. The one who rose from the Outer Rings, the one who showed the king that people here have worth. Now you’re here to change things for the better, once again,” she says. “I’d get used to the crowd parting for you.”

I dip my head slightly to the mistress and squeeze out of the brothel’s uneven doors between two slimy men. My uneasiness intensifies as I think over Willow’s words. As soon as I see the blurriness at the edges of my vision, I begin the process of breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. The feeling I’ve begun to recognize as panic is trying to batter its way out.