myself shut. “I’ve got a lead on some beasts. We’ll head to Queens Isle first thing tomorrow.”
His jaw twitched, and he gripped the railing on either side of him. “Great.”
I closed my umbrella. “What are you doing out here?”
“I needed some air.” Bone-white knuckles gleamed at me. In terms of proximity, we were so close…
My mind flashed back to the night before. To the sudden maelstrom of darkness when he’d discovered Calem and I had set out on a hunt alone. I’d once thought his shadows were something to be admired. So many varying shades of onyx, like the vast depths of the ocean. But last night, those tendrils had been harsher than obsidian.
Yet still, not as devastatingly terrifying as his blood. A shiver spider-walked across my skin. When the Scorpex had appeared and Noc summoned those blades, everything around me died. I should have been ecstatic—blood so freely available—but it had coagulated before I could think, before I could weigh the importance of stopping the Scorpex and stealing an ounce for my own needs. As quickly as it had appeared, he’d sharpened it into a weapon that whispered of devastation, and he’d held death in his palms. Controlled it.
“Noc,” I started, “can I ask you something?”
He blinked slowly, his grip on the rail no tighter, no looser. “Of course.”
“When the Scorpex showed up, you slashed your palms, and your blood…” I rotated the ring around my finger as I searched for words. “Why does it do that?”
I didn’t expect him to answer. So much of our conversations had been one-sided; him discovering secrets about me and offering very little in return. And yet, I couldn’t help but ask.
“Because I am the leader of Cruor,” he said slowly, as if checking each word before revealing it to me. My chest tightened with surprise. “My blood carries a power that acts as both a weapon—the blades you saw—and a tool. Passed on from guild master to guild master, it allows me to raise potential assassins from the dead. My blood mingles with theirs, reversing the stasis of death and giving them life.”
I probed further. “Has it always been like that?”
“For centuries now, thanks to the First King of Wilheim. He was…cruel. Ambitious. Craved power above all else. He bartered with a powerful mage in exchange for the lives of his firstborn daughter and son.”
There were whispers of the First King, of his crimes against Charmers. But how he came to be, how he garnered power strong enough to force Charmers to barricade ourselves away in Hireath, had escaped our texts. “You’re kidding.”
Noc shook his head. “The people of Wilheim? Granted unnaturally long lives and powerful Sentinels to protect their homes—a gift from Mavis’s blood.” His gaze flickered away. “Zane wasn’t as lucky.”
Understanding took me, chilling my bones. “He was the first of your kind.”
“Yes. He was slaughtered and raised again, and his blood was given to the fallen to strengthen the king’s army during the First War.”
Above our heads, the rain intensified, slamming itself into the thatched roof of the inn. Leaking through with a steady drip along the patio, water gathered on the floor in places where the roof was weak. Noc shifted, the toe of his boot casting ripples in one of the puddles.
I knew of the First War. Even though I hadn’t lived it, a slow burn churned in my gut. “Thousands of Charmers died that day. Their beasts, too.”
Dark eyes swallowed me whole. “As I said, ambitious. He wanted the continent for himself. When Zane learned of his true intentions, he took his men and left. Outlawed from the kingdom, they performed what work they could.”
My anger faded. “I can relate.”
“It wasn’t until Queen Lokelai came into power centuries later that she bargained with Cruor to use our talents in exchange for bits. She didn’t want to sully the good name of Mavis’s descendants by asking them to do work she saw fit for Zane’s kind.” Noc’s face was surprisingly free of tension. No tremor to his jaw or tight glare. His long fingers loosened around the railing. His openness stunned me and, at the same time, spurred me to unearth more. This was the first real glimpse into his past, his history, I’d gotten. I wanted to learn more about the man who’d found a stronghold in my thoughts and wouldn’t let go.
“What’s it like, being an assassin?”
His spine tensed. “It’s a job. I’m good at it.”
“Good at it?” I tilted my head. “What about when