8
Kathrine
The stone walls of the tavern barely contained the crowd of creatures seeking entertainment on this typical Antambazi evening. Bartenders struggled to keep up with orders for spiced witch’s scotch, waiters squeezed their way between the wooden tables to deliver trays of raw Balkan game, and the music, with its contemporary rhythm borrowed from the human world, amplified the room’s energy.
A tipsy woman in her reptilian form climbed onto one of the tables and began a dance far too bold for the early hour. Kathrine observed the scene with indifference until Lina’s voice compelled her to turn around.
“I don’t usually bite, but if you keep staring at me like you’re imagining me naked, I’ll clamp my thighs around your neck and squeeze until…”
Kristo intervened. “For heaven’s sake, Lina! Leave the poor lad alone. Can’t you see he’s new?”
“And so what? He’s playing terrible tracks!”
“I’m not the one picking the music, ma’am.”
“See, Lina?”
“Iseehe’s still staring at me!”
Kathrine snatched the glass from her subordinate’s hand. “You’re drunk.”
“And you’re dull! Both of you are dull,” Lina said, pointing her finger first at Kathrine, then at Kristo, before shifting it to the waiter. “Andhe’sa pervert.”
If Lina weren’t her closest friend, Kathrine would havesentenced her to at least three days in a cell. She should punish her anyway. But if she did, the Queen would learn about the Chosen’s inappropriate behaviour, and that was another issue altogether – one she lacked the strength to face at the moment.
“We’re leaving!” Kathrine stood and dragged Lina along with her.
The music was loud enough to drown out her friend’s indignant shouts. Unfortunately, it couldn’t conceal her expressive gestures. She screamed and shoved as Kathrine and Kristo took her by the arms. They had to haul her through the tavern, drawing the attention of everyone in their path.
“Hold your head up and walk in a straight line!” Kathrine hissed into Lina’s ear, but her subordinate wasn’t listening. They managed to drag her out despite her resistance.
Outside, it was a typical Antambazi night, and the cold had cleared the streets.
“I’ll take her home,” Kristo said, slipping his arm around Lina’s waist.
Kathrine nodded, hoping this wouldn’t reach the royal court. If the Queen found out about a Chosen’s poor behaviour, she would demand punishment – punishment Kathrine would have to administer herself. And she hated causing pain to her friends.
Leaving them behind, Kathrine walked up the slope, through the inner streets. Lina had been buckling under the pressure lately. Being a Chosen wasn’t just a job that required you to perform the Queen’s most horrific tasks – it also branded you in a way that drew everyone’s attention. People admired the Chosen for their strengths, but in the end, they stared at you like you were no better than a circus performer.
Sevar enjoyed the attention. Kathrine felt… differently.
***
Kathrine
Kathrine disappeared into the shadowy twists of the rock beneath the castle. She crept through the hollowed-out passages, her pulse quickening.
An iron grid with a padlock guarded the secrets at the tunnel’s end. Few creatures knew the catacombs had existed since the time Arius was king. All the tunnels had been sealed and now served as subterranean cells.
She unlocked the padlock with one of the keys hanging from the chain at her waist, her lips tightening in displeasure at the thought of what awaited her on the other side. So far, she’d made no progress in her task with the necromancer.
From the outset, she’d expected that torture would not lead to his submission, but that hadn’t bothered her. There were other ways to motivate a being. Chains, for example. An immortal man couldn’t endure life in a dungeon. Kathrine had stripped him of light, fresh air, freedom, and space – just as the Queen had taught her to break the stubborn prisoners. Once he’d begged for release, Kathrine would have offered him a deal.
But she was shocked to realise he cared for neither his freedom, nor what they wanted from him, nor the threats they made, nor…anything at all. He wasn’t the dashing necromancer famed for his charm and weakness for women. What she faced was a cynical man whorevelledin captivity. By the heavens, she couldn’t even convince him to hear the Queen out! He wouldn’t listen to her offer.
Now, as her boots touched the stone floor of the first tunnel, an icy shiver ran down her spine. Her encounters with the necromancer left her restless, haunted by a sense of unfinished business – but that wasn’t all. He unsettled her. They said necromancers could see beyond flesh and bone, past the illusions people cloaked themselves in. When his dark eyes locked onto hers, Kathrine couldn’t help but wonder what hesaw past her elite bodyguard façade.
She lit the faint bulb at the tunnel’s entrance. Her gaze swept across the yawning darkness of the catacombs, a strange thrill bubbling beneath her skin. That, too, was his doing. Some days, he refused to answer her questions. Other times, he was crude and indifferent. At his worst, he was cruel. And yet, every encounter left her rattled, as if she’d just stepped off a rollercoaster.