And so they were. Opening the door into Ciardis’s room, they walked in to silence. The room looked normal except for the glaive and crossbow resting on the bed. And the pool of blood on the marble floor.
“We need to clean up the blood,” said Stephanie, looking around for cloth.
Ciardis was already on her way to the bathroom. “I’ve got it.” She returned with a bucket filled with lemon water and sanitizer as well as some rags. Stooping down, she started wiping to get every drop of red.
*****
Sitting down on the bed, Stephanie watched as the young woman bent over the floor. Ciardis wasn’t saying a word. Stephanie was wondering if she was in shock or perhaps planning. Either way, she hoped the pretty hair and the soft nightgown hid a young woman who could do more than speak and dance well.
The Shadow Council needed people who could do more, people with talents, people with the strength to make a difference, and those willing to sacrifice for the common good. Ciardis had shown that she had two of those three qualities. But her performance needed a lot more polishing.
“Where have you been?” said Ciardis, not looking up. The blood had already turned the bucket water red, though there were still spots to clean up. She didn’t see Stephanie watching her as she finished cleaning off the crossbolt that Stephanie had removed from the dead man’s chest with a handkerchief from Ciardis’s nightstand.
“Away,” the woman said. “Training.”
“With whom?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“And you evade all of my answers,” said Ciardis pointedly.
She put the clean crossbolt back into the bow and primed it to fire. “Not unintentionally.”
Ciardis dropped the last rag in the bucket and raised an irritated eyebrow.“Look, you come in here criticizing the way I handle things—”
“And saved your life.”
“And want me to do things your way,” Ciardis continued without pause. “But you won’t tell me what the way is or how you knew about the duke’s man.”
Standing up, Stephanie tossed her an irritated look. “The duke’s man was obvious—the Duke of Cinnis hasn’t been subtle in his loathing of you ever since you revealed that he cheated on his wife.”
“Why does everyone focus on that?” Ciardis said, her temper rising, “He was trying to assassinate Sebastian, but does anyone mention that? No! It’s always, ‘Oh, that evil Ciardis, she exposed him in bed with another woman.’”
Stephanie snorted. “You’ve got a lot to learn. Scandal always trumps murder. The only thing better is if it’s a scandalous murder.”
Heading over to the door, Stephanie said, “Let’s go; I’ve got something to show you.”
Biting her tongue, Ciardis put away the cleaning supplies, changed her clothes, and put the glaive back in its corner. On her way past the nightstand, she grabbed a small dagger and a wrist sheath to hold it. With one last look at her bedroom, she followed Stephanie out. They left the palace through a side entrance and went across the bridge to the nobility’s quarters.
It was the quarter that Stephanie had moved to after being inducted as a full Companion and receiving a Patron. As they walked through the tree-lined streets, Ciardis expected them to go into one of the beautiful mansions. But as they ducked in and out of side rows, cut across lawns, and finally ended up in the artisan’s district, she had more concerns about where they were going than why.
“Where are you taking—”
Stephanie held up a silencing hand. She ducked behind another building into an alley filthier than the last. Ciardis had no choice but to follow. Not if she wanted answers. As they raced up the back stairs of a derelict building Ciardis caught glimpses of soldiers spreading out through a crowd in the market square. A man was giving them directions and groups were peeling off to go down different streets. They were looking for someone.
For me? she thought in a panic. Do they know about the dead assassin? How could they know?
Stephanie opened the door to a room. Well, “opened” was a nice way to put it; she had to kick in the door after the latch caught on something. “Damn piece of junk,” she murmured as they went inside. Ciardis took in the dust, the cobwebs, and the mothballed sheets covering everything with distaste. It was an artist’s studio long abandoned. Wood easels leaned on the walls and half-finished paintings covered in cobwebs stood in testament to an artist long gone. Ciardis hiked up her new sleeves to ensure none of the dirt got on the long, trailing fabric. There was nothing she could do about the bottom of her skirt except pray.
Closing the door and facing Ciardis, Stephanie asked, “What do you want to be, Ciardis?”
This sounded familiar. “A great Companion—”
Stephanie waved her hand. “No bullshit.”
“I wish you’d stop interrupting me,” Ciardis snapped.
“Look—”
“No,” Ciardis said, standing up straight. Her eyes turned steely as she propped her hands firmly on her waist, trailing fabric forgotten in the heat of the moment. “I’ve had just about enough of this. I was nearly murdered this morning. I’m being targeted and I want to know how to fix it.”
Stephanie waited a moment to see if her tirade had finished. “Fix it?” she said dryly while trailing a finger through dust that had been gathering on a cabinet top for at least a year.
“You can’t fix it,” Stephanie continued, “What you can do is control it...with help. The problem is your powers. You try to help Prince Sebastian and somehow your magical interference ends up spilling over to enhance more than you intended.”
A knock interrupted their conversation, echoing in the room. It sounded like it was coming from behind the wall. Stephanie walked over and opened up a panel in the back of the room.
Out walked a young man with blue eyes, black hair, and a radiant smile.
“Took you long enough,” he said jovially while dusting off his pants.
Stephanie rolled her eyes and examined her fingernails for dirt. She was studiously avoiding his gaze. There was something going there. Ciardis could feel it. The man cleared his throat, looked over at Ciardis, and introduced himself as Christian Somner.
“Well, Christian, are you in on this, too?” Ciardis said.
“In on what?” he said with a polite grin.
“This shadow organization that wants to make me not me.”
Before Stephanie could interrupt, Christian said, “The Shadow Council doesn’t want to change you; we want to mold you.”
Ciardis grinned, triumphant; she had just gotten him to reveal the group. Stephanie slapped him on the back of the head. “You idiot! She wasn’t supposed to know the name.”
He looked over, miffed. “But she said...”
“I was fishing,” Ciardis admitted smugly.
He rolled his eyes. “Well, now that you know the name. What do you truly know about what we are?”
“Nothing,” she admitted.
“Exactly,” he said with his own triumphant eye roll at Stephanie.
She didn’t let go of the glare plastered on her face. “You started this. Why don’t you go right on ahead and finish it?” Let him stick his foot in the stink. She wasn’t going to be in trouble when the Shadow Council heard about it.
Ciardis eyed them both warily. She’d never heard of the Shadow Council. Who were they? What were their goals? Were they a threat to Sebastian or an ally? She knew that today she would find out something about them but the lingering question remained: would it be enough to trust them? To trust Stephanie? The woman had been an excellent fighter during her years as a Companion trainee, but the Companions’ Guild didn’t prepare you to kill someone or dispose of the body. And yet she’d done both without blinking an eye. Not to mention this weird and stealthy way she had about going through the city streets. What did she have to hide?