for her life, she had used up whatever bit of energy she might have had left. Someone grabbed her arms, and another her neck, but a clever twist of her body pulled her free. Like a dead fish, she flopped to the hard dirt, biting down hard on her tongue upon landing. When she coughed, blood flecked across her lips.
“Get her up,” the bearded man ordered. “Quick, I said get her up!”
Another whistle from above. Now all the serpents looked up, and a few saw the gray cloaks. Hands reached underneath her armpits to yank her to her feet. She thought she might resist, but then two sharp whistles stopped them.
“Let her go, Galren,” a voice shouted from down the street. Kayla felt a slight gasp escape her throat. She had heard that voice once before, only once, but that was enough to forever remember its deep power and unyielding authority.
“This is no concern of yours,” said the bearded man, apparently Galren.
A man stepped out from an alley, his face hidden by the hood of his cloak.
“It is my concern,” he said. “And you’re a damn fool if you think otherwise. Veldaren is my city, serpent, mine, and I know more of your guild than you do. Did you think you could kidnap and sell my son without my knowing?”
“Your son?” Galren sounded like he might wet himself. Kayla stifled a laugh.
Thren had come for what was his.
“Yes,” Thren said, approaching with his bare hands hovering just above his shortswords. His next words came out almost a whisper. “My son.”
Gray cloaks descended from the rooftops. Arrows shot from windows. Death came upon them swiftly, and only Galren remained standing after the sudden assault, his arms pinned behind him, a waiting present for Thren as he approached. Without a word, the guildmaster slashed open the bearded man’s throat, then quickly stepped aside to avoid blood splashing across his clothes. A little stained his hands, but he wiped them clean on a cloth provided by one of his men.
Haern stood and bowed to his father.
“You have much to tell me,” Thren said, motioning for him to stand. He then pointed to Kayla, who had gotten to her knees and lowered her eyes in respect. “What was her role in all of this?”
Haern answered without hesitation, and to his father’s surprise, he did not whisper.
“She saved my life,” he said. “And not just once, but many times.”
Thren nodded. He sheathed his sword and offered a hand to Kayla. She took it, her mouth hanging slack.
“I do not know your name, nor who you might have sworn your life to,” he said. “But I offer you a place at my side, so that I might one day repay you for the kindness you have shown my son.”
She thought of the coin rattling inside the perfume jars and how it was a pittance compared to Thren’s wealth. Accepting might mean death, but the position was an incredible honor.
“I accept,” she said while bowing. “Humbly, and undeserving, I accept.”
They took them to Thren’s hidden hideaway. Though she needed rest, she sneaked out to handle one quick matter first.
She walked by Undry’s perfume shop, opened the door, and then continued on without even slowing. Undry collapsed on the counter, scattering bottles of perfume and raising a horrendous stench. Deep in his fat breast lodged a dagger.
When she returned to her room in Thren’s hideaway, she found a yellow rose lying on her pillow. Below it, formed out of twelve stones arranged just so, was the letter H.
3
The message had come yet again, and this time James Beren was tempted to shout out his Ash Guild’s response at the top of this lungs. At least that would get Thren off his ass. Either that, or a dagger stabbed into it, but by this point he might have preferred the brutal attempt than the sickeningly sweet diplomacy Thren seemed prone to lately.
“Shall we give our usual answer?” asked Veliana, his right hand man…although being a woman, he figured he should change her title, but crude amusement kept him from doing so. She was a pretty thing with cream-colored skin, red hair tied in a long pony tail, and dazzling violet eyes. Several daggers were clipped to her belt, her skill with them almost legendary for her age, and she was rumored to have a bit of magic in her, as well. A few had murmured about how the little girl of eighteen had slept her way to James’ side,