In The Dark | CHAPTER ONE

What if I never come back?

What if I lock this door and disappear?

The knob warms beneath my fingers in the dead of summer, locking runes flickering up the frame in a glow of sigils. I stand just outside my chamber door with an impossible decision and a grind to my teeth.

Go out tonight, or disappear? Would the king even care?

Either way I’ll be searching for them again—my parents. The ones I’m not supposed to care about, but I do. No one knows, and if the king found out, I doubt I’d ever leave the castle again.

And losing my freedom by death is the last thing I need.

I force my shoulders to relax despite the questions. Despite the severed heads flashing across my vision from my most recent mission. I keep telling myself: just one more, and I’ll be free.

Free to search for the ones who abandoned me so long ago. Would I actually be free? Probably not.

Yet I know this feeling will pass, as it always does. It’s just the mission—nothing more than another disappointment. I’m sure I’ll feel better after I go out tonight.

I let out a defeated sigh as my boots smack against the stone steps of my stairwell, strands of my hair fluttering from the warm air coming in from the arched entryway.

If it weren’t for the back-to-back missions, I probably would have found an escape sooner than I have, but the king has kept us busy running his errands. That’s what I call them—errands—because that’s what it feels like. Like I’m taking care of something for him he’d rather not do himself.

The bloody parts. The cruel, gruesome killings he likes so much. Donning one of the many metaphorical masks he’s trained us to develop in the Veiled Brotherhood—masks of personality and disguise. Something we’re all good at.

Masking my expressions is like second nature at this point—hiding my emotions from everyone on the outside. Like it’s always been a part of who I’m meant to be.

Except for when I’m around Ezra.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Ezra throws me a teasing scowl the moment my boots touch the gravel.

“What do you mean?” I glance down, pinching my brows: loose black pants and a matching tunic draped off my shoulders.

“I figured you would have worn something more… accessible.” He chuckles like he can’t believe what I chose to wear. I scoff and roll my eyes, tossing my braid back over my shoulder.

We’re on our way to the Painted Bird, the finest brothel in Alvonia. A brothel with strict rules that, if broken, get you thrown out by your hair. It’s typically where I go after completing a grueling mission, and the anticipation of going ate at me all day. Though their rules can be quite annoying at times, I love the place so much, I don’t dare break one.

Tonight is the only night Ezra and I can escape after weeks of nonstop missions. I just need a damn breather, but Ezra’s incessant pestering isn’t going to help me relax.

“What would you like for me to wear?” I ask.

“You’re wearing pants. You look like one of the males,” he mutters, his hazel eyes throwing me a sideways glance as we exit the stone rise of the castle.

“Were you expecting me to wear one of the king’s ball gowns when all I’d do is get it dirty? You’re wearing pants. What’s the difference?” I grumble.

His pants are paired with a fitted tunic that sits snug around his chest, showing off years’ worth of our training in the brotherhood, though he’s all rough edges and hard lines.

Hard lines that I believe have made him an unshakeable tool for King Elion to use—forged by combat and killing. But I’m not glaring at a honed weapon. I’m glaring at my best friend.

He snorts, walking past me with a quick glance over his shoulder. “I didn’t say that. Just something, you know, less masculine.”

I quicken my pace. “This is not masculine. Besides, pants are easily accessible. All they would have to do is—”

“Oh, come on, Isa. You look like you might fight someone for no reason. I’ll honestly be shocked if they let you in with all the weapons you’re wearing,” he interrupts, and I fall into step beside him with another glare.

“It wouldn’t be for no reason—there’s always a reason.” I shrug, a small grin tugging at my lips. “I’m not headed to the brothel for one of the males anyway, so I think I’m fine. Did you bring your mask to get in?”

Our boots crunch against the gravel, the only sound at this hour, and though it’s only mid-evening, most are inside their homes by now. Castle Alvonia sits just outside the city, surrounded by a field of lush grass with oak trees lining the gravel roads.

Ezra flicks his wrist, summoning a glowing orb of light with the elemental magic of Elderheim, illuminating our walk.

All Fae of Elderheim possess the elemental magic of the realm, but only the Aetheri—high Fae of the light realm—have specialized powers that make them unique. Ezra is a halfling like me, with only the ability to form basic magic. My abilities are limited to light orbs the size of marbles, and occasionally, my heightened sense of smell.

“Yes, did you? And did you hide your color?” He arches a brow, attempting to peek around to scan my hair. But my lip curls as I dart out of his line of sight, immediately knowing what he means by color.

“Of course,” I grind out. “You make it sound so dirty.”

I reach around to ensure that the auburn streak behind my right ear is still neatly pinned in place. I was born with a birthmark directly in my hair, and with the rest of my hair black, the lighter color can be spotted if you look hard enough.

I’ve never seen anyone else in the realm with a streak like mine, which is why the king insists I keep it hidden to protect my identity during one of my missions—in case I fail. Which I never do.

“Good. Just making sure. I’d hate for King Elion to throw a fit over it.” He smirks, but I ignore his remark as we continue our walk into the city, an easy silence falling between us.

Ezra and I were recruited from the orphanage at five, trained into the Veiled Brotherhood—the king’s hidden assassins, though the realm believes we’re a part of the royal guard.

The king created the brotherhood himself, favoring Aetheri Fae and halflings like us. Siphons were his primary weapon of choice, but after they grew scarce, he began handpicking orphans to eliminate threats to the crown.

Orange lamps shine in the distance, lighting the outskirts of Alvonia. The city clings to the southern side of Mount Ravenrock, carved into the mountain and surrounded by oak and rowan trees. As we step onto the cobbled streets, vined shops and lit homes line our path, orbs of light drifting lazily through the air.

A mother and her child pass in front of us, and for a few moments, all I can do is watch as they reach the edge of the shop to our left. A sense of longing washes over me—something that’s been more frequent lately.

I’ve never had proof that they’re alive—my parents—but I need to know.

Over the last year, my mind has constantly pulled me back to who I was before, or who I could be outside of being a king’s assassin. And for the last several months, I’ve taken that time to search for my parents—if they exist—after my assigned missions.

As much as I want to inform Ezra about my activities, I unfortunately know how that conversation will go as I’ve had it a couple of times with some of our brethren in passing. It always leads to them explaining that they’re most likely dead or gave me up willingly. Yet I find myself wanting the truth—and to close that door on my own—despite what they say, and despite the fact that I know nothing about where I come from.

Because all their words do is leave me to search for them on my own, forcing me to keep my whereabouts to myself during my missions for fear of King Elion withholding the high-profile targets I receive. It’s my only escape to other cities, and I’ve been taking advantage of it when I can.

Even if that means keeping it from Ezra.

My eyes land on the Painted Bird as it comes into view, spotting the dark red door as groups continue to weave between us.

“Are you looking forward to seeing anyone in particular tonight?” Ezra asks as the wind picks up, blowing his sandy brown hair over his set brow.

“Maybe Bess, if she’s there. I haven’t seen her in a while. What about you, anyone special you want to see?” I ask, knowing his type is typically large-breasted blondes.

It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve enjoyed Bess’s company last, and I grin, remembering her curvy features, long brown hair, and green eyes. I enjoy both males and females, but tonight I’m eager to see Bess. But liking her isn’t the only reason I’m visiting the brothel tonight.

She was the reason I was eager for my mission near Nymara—a four-day trip—having told me about a secluded orphanage and a contact for me to speak to, but that was a dead end. Again.

Ezra chuckles, scratching his jaw. “Not really. I’m just ready to have a night off.”

“You didn’t even want to come!” I exclaim, throwing him an annoyed sideways glance. “Will you relax?”

He’s scanned the area five times now. Ezra specializes in tracking, known for his observational and awareness skills. It’s why he struggles with taking time away from the castle—when we do get it—as he can’t seem to shut it off no matter the distance.

And it drives me insane.

It took all afternoon to convince him to join me at the brothel, Ezra claiming that one of the local taverns was better than having mediocre conversation in a pleasure house. We came to an agreement that he’ll accompany me first before he splits off to find a tavern.

He frowns, furrowing his brows. “Sorry, old habits. I’ll relax when we get there.” Then he smirks, playfully bumping into my shoulder as a bark of laughter escapes me.

“Oh, I’m sure you will.”

After a few minutes of walking, we finally ascend the stairs to the second level, arriving outside the red doors of the Painted Bird. Ezra bangs on it three times as we begin to put on our masks.

The popular brothel requires that you always wear a mask, apart from the courtesans. They claim that guests visit for pleasure, and to ensure their privacy without being the subject of city gossip, everyone is required to wear one. Whether you’re mated, own a business, or have a family—it’s non-negotiable.

Gods, I love this brothel. For no reason other than that it allows me to be free of my obligations.

A screen slides open, two dark eyes peeking out at us when the door creaks open a moment later. A large male steps to the side.

“Shoes and weapons in the corner, coins in the bowl,” he grumbles—one of the rules—and then shuts the door.

Walking in, I blink as my eyes adjust to the brothel’s dim interior. Oil lamps bathe the red walls in a golden glow, rugs scattering across the creaky wooden floor beneath a gilded chandelier.

I instinctively scan the area. Two long curtains to the left close off access to the rooms, which I’m now hearing all sorts of noises coming from. Another large male stands nearby.

After abiding by their rules, I quickly nod to the male in the doorway and drop a few coins into the bowl with a clink as Ezra quietly trails behind me.

We’re greeted by those loitering in the hall, recognizing familiar faces along with a few new ones, but I scan the area for Bess. No luck.

Then my steps falter when I shoot a glance over my shoulder, finding Ezra suddenly grabbing hands with two females—blonde females—and entering one of the chambers behind me. A knowing grin tugs at my lips with a shake to my head.

I guess he’ll be busy for a while.

A quiet chuckle escapes me as I break off to find Bess, reveling in the thought of seeing her familiar face and eager to hear what else she might have for me. I walk through the grand pleasure room, heading to the back where her chamber resides. Multiple couples enjoy their caresses, taking turns touching and kissing while others watch.

No matter how many times I’ve been here, I can’t help but smirk at the way guests watch each other—blatant and unashamed. I walk slowly against the far right wall, not to hide, but to observe. The warm lighting softens the edges of the room as I take in the details.

The room is large with many settees surrounding the main fireplace. On the far left wall are smaller rooms curtained off for privacy, and toward the back is a mantel that goes up three stories. Each level is lined with wooden railings and private apartments, but only the top floor has windows. I’ve always been curious to know what sits on the top floor.

I turn right, heading toward the private quarters where guests sometimes go to have business meetings and do… other things.

Stopping just outside the room she frequents, I find the curtains to be down but partially opened in the middle. With a glance through the curtains, I raise my brows at Bess enjoying herself with a male. Though I can’t see his face.

She’s on her back, brows furrowed, dark hair spilling onto the pillows behind her as the male’s head works between her thighs. I grin. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her, and I can’t help but admire how beautiful she is.

But she may have another lead—another name, or perhaps something about my past. Just one step closer to finding the truth about who I am.

I make a mental note to come back, but before I can make it two steps to leave, my body comes to an immediate halt—smacking right into someone’s hard chest.