Dahlia

  “I could have handled this on my own.” I sheathed my sword—a little pissed that he had now saved me twice. “I had a plan.”

  I didn’t want to owe anything to the Reaper.

  “You’re probably right,” he admitted as he lifted his own swords above his head to sheath them at his back, “But it wasn’t worth the risk.”

  “Aww, you do care,” I tried to sound sarcastic, but my voice sounded hollow. I was far too distracted by worry.

  “You know I do,” the Reaper growled back.

  I felt my eyebrows rise, but I wasn’t sure that I believed him.

  Ignoring the sudden pull of our connection, drawing me to him, I gestured back the way I had come from. “I need to go—to check on the others.”

  But as I started back in the direction of the Academy, the Reaper rushed forward to step into my path and caution, “The Calos were starting to fight back when I followed you here. We can’t just walk out there and expect them not to notice us dressed like this.”

  He was right. And Imm-God was I relieved to hear the Calos had stepped in, even if it was too long into the assault.

  I begrudgingly admitted, “Good point.”

  Without waiting for him, I removed my cloak and gloves and pulled off my black tunic and dark overshirt—leaving me in only a flimsy green shirt and my black trousers. I looked around, finding a spot under a fallen tree to hide my clothes and sword—leaving my last dagger tucked into my belt as a precaution. I would have to retrieve the rest of my belongings later.

  When I turned back to the Reaper, I saw him watching me—still hooded and masked and looking entirely suspicious to anyone who might see him on the city streets. Tonight, with the intruders wearing his mask, he was even more conspicuous. I pointed out, “The intruders—they wore your mask tonight. I wonder why that is.”

  I knew why, of course. They were here to make a point about the Reaper. I just wondered if he fully understood that.

  He cocked his head at me and offered only, “Maybe I’m the one wearing their mask—not the other way around.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes. He was either unwilling to broach that subject or too stupid to understand that they were targeting Firen because of him. So I dropped the subject altogether—saving it for another day.

  “You aren’t changing,” I commented as I fixed my braid, “Still afraid to show me what’s behind the mask?”

  “I don’t think you can handle the truth about me, Dahlia.” He walked past me to where I hid my clothing and pulled out the black shirt. “And I don't trust you to keep my identity to yourself.”

  “What?” I furrowed my brows as he threw my black shirt over his shoulder and turned back to me, “Leave that there! My scent—”

  “Don’t worry about that. Right now, you need to run along to check on your little friends. I will take care of the rest,” He crossed his arms as though waiting for me to argue with him.

  The man had a death wish.

  “You said it yourself!” I protested, “You can’t just walk out there in the mask and expect the Imms to ignore you! They’re targeting intruders wearing that same mask!”

  He snorted a laugh but didn’t respond as he turned to walk away. I wanted to stop him—to tell him to take off the mask and come with me. I wanted to tell him I would keep his identity hidden.

  I wanted to tell him to trust me.

  But instead, I bit my tongue and simply watched him disappear deeper into the woods, listening as his light footfalls faded until all I could hear was the sound of the trees rustling in the breeze and the distant commotion of the city where the Calos now waged war against the intruders.

  I sighed deeply to purge my frustration and turned away from him—refusing to worry about him now.

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  I had others to worry about. The Reaper could hold his own against the Imms.

  I ran to the edge of the forest before slowing to a light jog. When I reached the main road, I paused to look over the ruins of the eastern reaches of Firen. From this high up on the hill, I had an excellent vantage point of the destruction.

  Buildings were in flames—some collapsed entirely. People ran throughout the city in a panic—throwing water on the flames and pulling bodies from buildings. Nearby, Imms fought in the streets. A quick glance was all I needed to know the Calos now had the upper hand—the rogue Imms were already on the run, with only a few of the injured left to defend themselves.

  And the Calos disappeared into the woods after them as if they intended to leave no survivors.

  I shivered at the reminder of the terror I felt at being chased through these woods. It wasn’t something I wanted to experience again, if I could help it.

  I turned and jogged up the road leading back to Redmond Compound, entering the main gates and passing the Imms I had killed without bothering to retrieve my sword or even look too long at their bodies. All three of them were dead—that much was obvious without too much scrutiny.

  I exited the compound at the back, past the building that held many of the Academy classes. Jogging now, I followed the road all the way up the hill to Calo castle—passing a few human bodies as I travelled the mile or so distance between the two places. I glanced quickly at each body to ensure it wasn’t Carmen, and I tried not to think too hard about the ones who looked familiar to me.

  Mourning the dead would come later. For now, my focus was on finding Carmen before tracking down Mathy and her family, Maiza, and the Ferros.

  As I jogged into the castle courtyard, I heard a panicked voice call out, “Dahlia! Here!”

  I looked around and exhaled in relief when my eyes fell on Carmen’s form, still in her nightgown and slippers. She cried as she rushed to me and threw herself into my embrace. I sank into her as she wrapped her arms around me and murmured into my shoulder, “I was so worried.”

  “I’m okay,” I soothed, “And you’re okay. Everything is fine.”

  For the first time in years, I felt like I was home. Carmen had been like a sister to me. Mathy had even put a spare bed in my bedroom for Carmen to use when we were growing up. I sank into her embrace, feeling at ease with my old friend and so relieved that she was safe.

  I heard a voice behind me—immediately recognizable and obviously displeased, “Where the hell were you, Dahlia?”

  “Simon?” I released Carmen and turned to tell the man to fuck off. Instead, my eyes widened at the gruesome sight of the Imm man. “What happened to you?”

  Simon had clearly spent the night in battle.

  He was covered in blood, his hair disheveled and dripping with a mixture of sweat and gore. His eyes were dark and furious—wild. His clothes were torn in places, but if he was injured, it was difficult to tell under all the blood. He had all sorts of blades affixed to himself in every conceivable spot—though many of the sheaths were empty.

  He was utterly terrifying—perhaps more terrifying than Hawthorne.

  Simon frowned and, ignoring my question, he repeated, “Where were you, Dahlia?”

  “Hiding,” I lied with a smirk.

  He scoffed, “You didn’t hide—you should have, but you didn’t.”

  Carmen spoke, voice trembling, “M—my Lord. Did you n—need something?”

  He ignored her.

  The Imm’s stormy eyes never left mine as he chastised, “You’re not as good at lying as you think. Get yourself somewhere safe and come up with a better story before someone else questions you.”

  Feeling a little bold in his presence after the last time we’d met, I mock saluted, “Yes, Sir.”

  Simon pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and shook his head, “No one warned me that you would test my patience like this.”

  I made a face, “What does that mean?”

  “It means you still act like a child, Dahlia.”

  “Some might say it’s endearing.”

  He growled, “No one says that.”

  “If you insist on sticking around, you’d better get used to it, Imm.”

  He let out a string of curses at me that almost made me curse right back at him, but I chose to ignore it instead.

  Turning my back on the man, I gestured down the road and asked Carmen, “Can I walk you back?”

  “No,” Carmen shook her head vigorously, “The guards will escort us back shortly—you should go somewhere safe.”

  “There are more pressing issues right now,” I gestured to the city—still alight with fire.

  “The soldiers will take care of it,” Simon crossed his arms, “This is what they do, Dahlia—provide protection and stability in times of crisis.”

  “Well, we could have used that protection sooner!” I snapped, blood boiling now. If the Imms had stepped in at the start, maybe the destruction could have been contained to a few square blocks and not almost a quarter of the city.

  “You need to go home.” Simon refused to acknowledge my frustration. “There’s nothing to be done right now.”

  Gritting my teeth against the insults I wanted to hurl at the Imm and his family, I embraced Carmen once more before leaving the courtyard. But I wasn’t going home—not right away. I needed to see Mathy and her family for myself—to reassure myself that they were safe. And when I was done there, I’d find Maiza and the Ferros—I’d probably even stop by the Ledge to check on the bartenders.

  If the urge struck me, maybe I would help put out some fires along the way.

  People were suffering tonight, and I felt some responsibility for that suffering. I wasn’t certain I could turn a blind eye to the destruction—not like I might have done before meeting the Reaper. Like it or not, the man was changing me—challenging me.

  Not that I’d admit that to him.

  As I left the courtyard, I made eye contact with Councilwoman Hastings near the main gate. The older woman was staring at me without any attempt to hide the disdain creasing her scarred face. I knew she blamed me for tonight’s destruction.

  And maybe she wasn’t wrong to blame me—not this time.