Made From Death (The Darkest Queens Series Book 1), page 2
She was unnatural. And that bothered her.
But it didn’t seem to bother him.
"Are you trying to steal from us?" He lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "From the queens?"
He wore the same faded brown trousers and oversized white tunic as the other warlocks. A purple strip of fabric draped over his shoulders marking him as a warlock in service to the crowns. Ace admired the broadness of his shoulders and the way his body got leaner toward his waist. The lack of weapons on his hips was disheartening since she couldn't use them against him. Not that she was sure she really had the heart to hurt him.
"I'd like to give you a chance to give that back," the man continued, narrowing his eyes.
Ace flicked her gaze back up, holding eye contact with him. The grimoire was still in the hand farthest from him. Her first instinct was to run, but his tight grip prevented her. She'd have to outrun the guards too because they'd surely be back to their posts by now. She gave her wrist one good tug just to see if he'd let her go. A foolish attempt. He held firm and his scowl only deepened.
It was no use. Next time she'd have to be faster, find a better way to distract the warlocks.
Holding her chin high, she lifted her arm and offered him the notebook. Their fingers brushed for only the briefest moment as he yanked the journal from her grasp. Ace noted how surprisingly soft his hands were compared to her own calloused ones. His frown curled into a sneer of disgust as if being faced with a thief might be the worst thing to ever happen to him, but he let her wrist go.
"This won't be the last time you see me," Ace said, taking a small step away.
The man stared for a moment before he answered. "That's really unfortunate."
If her pulse hadn't been racing inside her ears like the drums of war then she might have laughed at that statement. Instead, she took another step away as the other two warlocks turned back to their booth and locked eyes on her. Confusion tainted their expressions.
"Shelby, who are you talking to?" the older man called. Gray sprinkled his black curls.
Her stomach practically lurched into her throat as they started toward her. Run. She needed to run.
"Caught a thief," the man, Shelby, answered before shouting, "Call for the guard!" Though his voice rose he didn't move or reach out to Ace. He gripped the notebook, white knuckled, like his life depended on it. There was something undoubtedly dark in that stupid little book and Ace wanted it.
Backpedaling, Ace threw herself toward her escape route. The wind caught the fabric of her cloak lifting it off her back. She didn't give them another look as she heard someone cry out for the queens’ guard.
If she was caught then she'd face the gallows. Somehow dying a second time was both amusing and terrifying all at once. She hadn't tested the limits of the gods’ ‘blessings’ yet. Could she even be killed?
No magic nipped at her heels as she grabbed the rickety staircase that led up the side of the building, giving her a few short seconds of relief. She glanced over her shoulder as the shouts of the guards echoed off the walls. Men pushed through the sea of people, the sound of their boots loud in her ears.
"Stop her!"
"Thief!"
She could be faster than the guards, she knew this, and she was smarter. Finding the best place to hide was her priority. Even if she was tall and lanky, she was flexible and thin enough she could curl herself into even the smallest alcove to hide in. Usually.
The railing at the top of the stairs rattled, the first guard hitting the bottom step as Ace was already leaving the stairwell behind to pull herself up to the roof. Clay tiles met her fingertips with the fiery heat of the sun, searing her skin in an annoyingly familiar way. Heat didn't bother Ace anymore. Not after the holy fire.
Air hissed out over her lips, tiles digging into her stomach. When she stood, the tiles shifted, threatening to send her falling multiple stories to the ground. Nevertheless, she pushed off and clambered her way toward the edge that butted up with the next building. There was only a two-foot gap between the extended roof and the next building, with her height she could easily jump that distance.
Already across the next roof, Ace could hear the guardsmen struggling to keep their footing on the shifting clay tiles. She had struggled like that too at one point, but now these roofs were her playground. She’d used them as a way to get around the city unseen, and over time she’d nearly perfected her balance.
The bustle of the market down below slowed as people watched the chase. Though she could feel their attention on her skin she had to wonder if the man who had caught her was still watching too. Or was he cradling that book she needed so badly?
Up ahead, she could see the window that led to her escape. The home there was rarely occupied and she’d used it many times in the past. Ace leaped to the next building. She skittered down the slope of the roof, feeling every bump and curve of the tiles under her feet. When she turned and caught sight of the guards, the three of them were all cursing under their breath.
Yes, they would give up on her soon. She hadn't gotten away with anything really, thanks to that stupid warlock—Shelby, she couldn't even think his name without disgust.
When her feet hit the edge of the roof, she let her body slip past the lip, grabbing the ledge, already bare of tile from her repeated visits, and used her momentum to swing herself into the room.
Overhead the guards shouted as they lost sight of her. Soon they'd be scrambling.
The room she’d entered was made up of a large couch that faced an empty fireplace, half-empty bookshelves, and an old faded rug. Ace didn't know much about the person who lived here, only that they were too busy to be home and that they wore the same size clothing.
Letting out a rush of breath, sweat trickling from her brow, she exchanged the black cloak on her back for a finer robin’s egg blue cloak that was waiting by the door. She tied it at her neck and followed the familiar path from the room. Scurrying down the stairs, she rushed toward the back door.
From the roof above, she could hear the guards still bickering about which one they would send swinging into a stranger’s home. By the time they decided, she'd be long gone. Stifling her shaking fingers, Ace pulled the hood up over her face and stepped into the current of the crowd.
Conversations were overlapped by the sound of prayers rattling off inside of her head. She pressed her lips into a thin line. She could feel her cheeks heating with the reminder of her failure today. The market, however, was open almost year round and that wasn't the only set of warlocks selling grimoires on the street. Some warlocks were privately owned, by the wealthiest of the citizens, but none of them were better than those that were taken in by the queens.
The throngs of people thinned the farther Ace got from the market, but the streets still had enough people that she was lost to their masses. At least then she felt like she could breathe.
Stands were exchanged for storefronts. A florist here. A butcher there. Down the street, a blacksmith pounded away at iron in time with the beating of her heart. On every corner a baker slaved away over their hot ovens making the air smell like warmed bread and sugary pastries. Maipeg was most famous for its renowned bakers. The City of Sugar people often called it. You couldn't move more than a foot before running into someone licking jam or icing from their fingertips.
As a child, Ace had loved visiting Maipeg with her family, though she grew up almost a week’s journey away in a much smaller town called River's Bend. She'd always thought the name was silly because the "river" that came and went from the town was really more of a creek. But the place—more of a village anyway—was small enough that everyone knew everyone. Each family was poor in their own way and got by sharing what little they had with the others.
Ace often imagined the town turning to dust and being blown away in a strong gust of wind. She wondered if it was still standing. Without her family there to help provide she was sure they'd be struggling.
Tipping her head, she looked up at the sky. The sun was heading toward the horizon, leaving behind streaks of orange. Ishaan, the shop owner, would be pulling fresh loaves of bread from the ovens soon and that would be her chance to slip through unseen. The short man with a round stomach and deep wrinkles around his brown eyes was pleasant and always hummed while he worked. Ace liked him.
The front door to Ishaan's little bakery was propped open letting a breeze in and the enticing scent of bread out. Ace's stomach growled as she poked her head inside. The space behind the counter was thankfully empty, leaving a clear shot for her to get to the door that would lead up to her makeshift home. She strolled inside. Rounding the counter, she snatched a small pot of honey, then shoved a loaf of bread between her teeth.
Above the storefront, the home was empty… until Ace found it. Ishaan had thought it was haunted by the spirits of the people who owned the building before him and he was only more confirmed in his beliefs when Ace took residence there. No matter how she tried she wasn't very quiet but luckily, Ishaan considered every bump and thud she made to be the workings of the spirits.
She grumbled to herself when she found the door locked. A stupid little game she and Ishaan played. She'd unlock the door for easy access. He'd think a spirit was messing with him and relocked the door. That left her with only one choice to get into the home. Climb the lattice on the back porch. Ace tried not to groan at the thought.
Before she could make her way outside, a decorated poster caught her attention. Pinned on the wall, Ishaan was proudly displaying the queens’ announcement that had been plastered all over the marketplace. She supposed it only made sense that they'd stuck it in other places too. Glaring at the paper, she tore it from the tack and crumpled it into her pocket. Whatever this whole husband finding business the queens were suddenly all about she wanted to be well informed. That way she could stay far, far away from it.
Leaving the storefront, she made her way behind the building. There was a tall fence for privacy, though the only people who ever used the backyard were Ace, Ishaan, and sometimes the family that came to visit him at the shop. The gate was always unlocked, which was because Ace had broken the lock and Ishaan had yet to fix it.
Ace peered through the cracks in the fence before letting herself in and heading for the latticework. She held the bread in her mouth and shoved the small honey pot into her shirt before making her way up the side of the building. The tips of her fingers ached as she gripped the tiny lip of the window and forced it open, rolling herself inside. The wood flooring groaned as she thudded to a stop.
Ishaan's humming in the kitchen paused for a moment before she could hear his prayer to keep his shop safe from the angry spirit. She allowed herself to lay there for a minute, sprawling out on the ground, and taking the bread from her mouth. The last of the day's sunlight cast itself upon her, warming her face. Her lashes brushed her cheeks as she closed her eyes and took it in.
When the owner’s prayers had stopped her mind was blissfully quiet for almost a minute before the gods began talking inside her head again. This time she groaned as she sat herself up. Plucking the honey from her shirt, she began to tear pieces from the bread to dip.
Open the announcement, Ace. Greshta pressed. What are these human queens doing?
Oh, don't pester the girl. The more you ask the more she'll ignore you. Let her work it out in her own time. Sylik huffed.
You know I can't do that.
Yes, it's impossible for you to keep your mouth shut. She took the paper, clearly she intends to read it. Perhaps Latsov could lend you some patience.
Latsov was a quiet god that rarely ever spoke. The other gods talked about him often, though Ace herself had only ever heard from him once. The god of perseverance didn't have a whole lot to say and in her humble opinion that was perfectly okay.
The way their voices raised inside of her head caused the ache behind her eyes to pulse. Ace might listen to the gods tonight, not to appease them but to satisfy her own curiosity. She licked at the honey on her hand, but her fingers still stuck to the page as she pulled the crumpled paper out and tried to smooth out the wrinkles.
Before she could read even the title of the page the gods were hissing in disgust. Their voices becoming a hodgepodge of sound that always blended into one. The queens must go. Take the throne. Kill the queens. Nature is unbalanced. They must answer to the gods. Answer us. Yes. They will answer us. Restore the balance. Right their wrong.
Ace had heard this particular rant about a thousand times over. It was the first discussion the gods had had inside of her brain when she'd awoken from death. The queens had done something wrong and the gods were pissed. That's why Ace even existed as she was at all. To right this wrong.
Over time the rant had become less enthusiastic. But the gods were stubborn and would never forget. As they had said, nature was unbalanced.
But what happened afterward if she fixed their mistake? What happened when she completed the task asked of her by the gods? What then? She’d take the throne by force? She’d run the country? No, she couldn't, wouldn’t, imagine that. Ace was not a leader, she told herself again. Someone else would step up within the ranks.
She blinked away the fear inside of her, the uncertainty that plagued her daily since she'd been born to a new life, and quickly read through the announcement. There it all was, laid out on the page, the dates and times of numerous events for which the queens would be allowing guests onto the castle grounds. These parties would allow men from all over the kingdom their chance to court the queen and claim the title of king. Not that she thought that would give them a whole lot of power, but their children, their future family line, that would be where the power was given.
All of Pasia had been itching for a king to balance out the four queens. They had quickly proven themselves to be wicked after The Battle of Patruger removed the Fae king from his throne.
Fae were vile creatures that could infect your mind and turn you into a shell of a human being. That's what the queens had fought against. And they'd won but only after making a deal with the gods who granted them each a staff with more magic than any warlock could ever obtain. They didn't hold up their end of the deal.
Their debt to the gods remained, which was unfortunate for Ace because now the gods had made that her problem.
Ace didn't want to do the gods' dirty work. She only wanted a simple quiet life; she always had. Perhaps that's why she'd been so soft, maybe that's why she’d died in the first place. Avoiding conflict, trying to constantly find peace, all of it had been a dream that led to an early grave.
She grabbed the loaf, dunking the whole thing in the honey, not caring about the residue she left on her face when she took a bite. Her fingertip skimmed over the paper as she traced the dates. Queen Sienna would go first, then the festivities would continue to the other territories and other queens.
Tomorrow Queen Sienna would be hosting her first party. No wonder the streets were so crowded and people couldn't stop praying.
Go, Greshta encouraged.
Fix the balance, Sylik echoed.
"I'm not going to some stupid party. I don't want the throne." Ace growled through the food in her mouth.
You may not want it but you are destined for it. In time, you will grow into the power. Sometimes Greshta made her want to scream. She was the most persistent of the gods about this particular plan.
“I can’t just kill the queen at her own party. The event will be crawling with guardsmen.”
It wouldn’t hurt to look around, Greshta said. Ace couldn’t see the goddess but she somehow knew she was shrugging her shoulders and giving her a sly smile.
"If I go…" she mused aloud, "will you shut up?" It was just a thought. A whim she doubted the gods would honor.
Maybe for a day, Sylik answered, but it was more pointed to Greshta, Ace could tell. Gods were surprisingly well versed in sarcasm.
I will give you one sun and one moon of silence if you go. See for yourself how bad it is. Contemplate this life that we've so graciously given you. Find a way. Kill the queen. Kill them all. Then not only will you have been given new life but more power than you might imagine, Greshta confirmed.
Maybe this was more than a thought. Ace could weasel her way into an entire day of silence! Now that would be a true miracle.
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
You know we can not die, Greshta scoffed.
She’s asking for a promise you cretin, Sylik butted in.
Do not call me a cretin, you—
“Would you do it just because it’s my not so celebrated re-born-day?” There really wasn’t a good name for it. “Like a gift?”
Your life was already gift enough, Greshta said.
Ace sighed. She might want to re-gift that particular present then. Or maybe just give it back altogether. “I’ll do it.” But she wasn’t happy about it. Not really.
You’ll do it. Greshta’s voice turned to silk. She’ll do it, Sylik.
The god of wealth and fortune stayed quiet. The idea of silence held enough reward that Ace reluctantly agreed.
“As long as you give me a day of peace.” Ace looked up and lifted the bread in her hand toward the heavens. “I’ve been sick of your voices since the moment I woke up.”
She’s sick of your voice. You hear that, Greshta? Ace deflated against the wall behind her, her eyes practically rolling into the back of her head as soon as Sylik started the bickering all over again.
But is it a deal? Yes? Greshta ignored the bait to fight further.
“Yeah, I guess.”
That pleased the gods and she could feel the hum of their excitement as if it was her own. Or maybe it was her own?
Because no matter how she fought the gods and avoided doing as she was told, the smallest part of Ace wanted the queens dead too.
Queen Sienna
All power must come with sacrifice, Queen Sienna reminded herself as she watched the gates to the castle open. Though considering what she had already given up she felt her debt had been paid. Apparently, that was not the case.
