Page 2 of Bound By Deception

Mor’s attention snapped to the sack, which now crawled with large black flies.

The queen stilled then, a lovely statue among the roses. In contrast to the glittering white surrounding her, she was clad entirely in black. A shimmering gown plummeted into a deep cleavage at the front and clung to her tall, lithe form. A simple crown, decorated with tiny daggers and glass skulls, sat upon her head, while inky hair—a mane of tight, wiry curls—tumbled over the cloak of black crow feathers that hung from her shoulders.

Silence swelled between them before Mor’s throat bobbed. “Show me,” she whispered.

Wordlessly, Bree stooped and emptied the sack onto the ground.

Grae’s partially decomposed head rolled onto the pavers.

Staring down at him, Bree pursed her lips. It was hard to believe that the elder of Mor’s two estranged brothers had once been handsome, as now his long tightly-curled hair was mattedwith blood, and his skin—once a deep umber like his sister’s—was the color of ash. His dark eyes stared sightlessly up at the sky, his mouth slack and gaping.

Sourness flooded Bree’s mouth then. Since striking off her mark’s head and stuffing it into the sack, she hadn’t looked at him again. Grae hadn’t been easy to find or kill. The Raven Queen had hunted her brother for years after his failed attempt to take her throne had resulted in his exile. She’d feared that he’d try to usurp her again—but she needn’t worry any longer.

“Well done,” Mor said finally. Both her voice and expression were veiled now. If Bree had expected to see a glint of vindication in the queen’s eyes, she was disappointed.

Letting the filthy sack drop to the ground, for a servant to clear away later, she resisted the urge to step back and take her leave. It took much to exhaust Bree, yet her limbs felt heavy this afternoon. Nonetheless, she checked herself. One didn’t walk away from the queen until dismissed. “I am your servant,” she replied, dipping her head once more.

Moments passed, and when Bree raised her gaze, she found Mor watching her. Meanwhile, Eagal shifted upon her shoulder, his eyes gleaming like two shards of onyx.

An uneasiness stole over Bree. That bird had a stare that flayed the flesh.

“You will receive twice your usual payment for this,” Mor said after a pause.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Bree murmured. Years ago, the queen’s generosity would have excited her, although these days, she couldn’t dredge up the same enthusiasm. It was only coin, after all. Of late, Mor had kept her so busy she barely had time to spend it. The truth was she was jaded. Exhausted. Maybe it was time for a well-earned break.

Mor’s mouth curved then. “You are my best, Bree Fellshadow.”

Bree smiled back. Such praise was rare, and she’d enjoy it. Nonetheless, there was something about Mor’s expression that made the fine hair on the back of her neck prickle. The queen seemed to have forgotten her brother now, despite that his rotting head sat just a few feet from her.

“I have another job for you,” Mor added then, and Bree’s smile froze.

Iron burn her, she’d just got back from hunting Grae. Couldn’t she have some time to recover, to let the fatigue that had settled deep into her bones fade? “So soon?” she replied, trying not to let resentment creep into her voice.

The Raven Queen’s smile hardened. “Aye … althoughthistask will be a little different.”

2: A VEIN OF TRUTH

BREE TOOK THE stairs down to the archives two at a time, descending into the lower levels of the fortress with careless speed.

Cressets burned on the gleaming white walls, illuminating her way, and cool air feathered against her skin. Yet she took little notice of her surroundings; Bree’s thoughts had turned inward, and her stomach had clenched.

Reaching the bottom of the curving stairwell, she stalked along a wide vaulted corridor, lined with much narrower passageways, before entering the archives.

Tall shelves made of oak stretched up to a high ceiling, crammed with leather-bound books, and scrolls. Grey-robed archivists worked silently within the space. Some carried armloads of rolled parchments, while others bent over documents at tables at the heart of the archives, quills in hand.

A tall, lean male with long golden hair tied back at the nape sat apart from his colleagues, alone at a table on the edge of the space. Gil squinted as he scratched his quill against a sheet of vellum, writing with painstaking care.

Bree strode up to him. “Brother.”

Gil Fellshadow’s chin jerked up, his tawny eyes narrowing as they fixed upon her. “Bree,” he greeted her warily. “You’re back.”

Bree halted before him. “Evidently.”

She was receiving censorious looks from the other archivists, for they preferred to work in silence down here. Ignoring them, Bree flung herself down onto a chair opposite her brother and leaned back, throwing her booted feet up and crossing them on the tabletop. She then heaved a sigh. “That’s better.” A moment later, she cast her gaze around. “Do you have any apple wine down here?”

Gil’s mouth pursed, and he cut a glare at her dusty boots before shaking his head. “You look terrible.”

Bree pulled a face. She could always rely on her brother to be blunt. “Aye, well … this job was harder than most.”

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