“You don’t think they’ll force us, do you?”

  With a groan, Quilla opened her eyes. She had been peacefully dozing on her bed. “What?”

  Annai was sitting on the edge of her bed looking glumly at Quilla. “Force us to get one of those horrid tattoos.”

  Quilla propped herself up on an elbow. “I don’t know. Hopefully not.” Ulises had said he wouldn’t force them, but he’d brought it up every time she’d seen him the past two days, and he seemed to get more annoyed each time she said no. Forcing them was not outside the realms of possibility.

  “I don’t think I could take that,” Annai said. “What would people think if they saw it? Good people, I mean. Not Darkers. It would be bad enough being caught with any tattoo, but that particular tattoo? I can’t do it, Quilla. I can’t.”

  Quilla lowered herself back down and flopped onto her back. They’d been through this multiple times and there wasn’t anything else to say about it. Annai had gone on and on about it for the past couple days. When Quilla had first told her, she had practically blamed Quilla for it and on a few occasions since. Worse, her complaints were often about tattoos in general—how inappropriate they were for a princess, how lower-class they were. It was enough to make Quilla almost decide to get the goat skull tattoo. She wouldn’t, of course, but there were times…

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Damn. Was Annai still talking? What had Quilla missed? More about the tattoo, or something else?

  When Annai wasn’t complaining about maybe being forced to get a tattoo, she was complaining about their accommodations—which were too plain and lower-class—or the woollen kirtle she’d been given to wear—also too plain and lower-class—or the food—again, too plain. The words plain and lower-class were so common in Annai’s complaints, they’d practically lost any meaning.

  From Quilla’s perspective, she liked the plainness of the inn they were staying in. Sure, it wasn’t fancy, but it was far better than anywhere else they’d been the last couple weeks. The beds weren’t bug-ridden, and the sheets were clean. It wasn’t the warmest, but it was far better than having to sleep outside or even in the place Gabby had gotten them while working at the docks. It also didn’t attract attention, as both Quilla and Ulises had tried to tell Annai on multiple occasions. Even with dyed hair, Annai might be recognised at richer establishments. Here, they could be reasonably confident of going unnoticed.

  “I said, are you listening to me?”

  Oops, she’d done it again. Quilla almost wanted to laugh, but instead, she turned her head and forced a friendly smile. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

  Annai scowled. “That’s your excuse every time you stop listening to me. I’m getting tired of it.”

  Quilla dropped the smile and sighed. “What am I supposed to do, Annai? We’ve been through these things a thousand times already. There’s nothing more to say.”

  “You don’t even know what I said.”

  “Let me guess. You don’t want the tattoo?”

  Annai glared at her.

  “Or is it the draught from the window?”

  Annai continued to glare.

  “You don’t like your hair colour?”

  “Fuck you, Quilla.”

  Quilla sat up. “Fine.” She was going to regret this. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  Annai crossed her arms and kept her head lowered, but she peered over at Quilla. “I was just wondering whether we might actually leave today.”

  Quilla shrugged. To be fair, this was not a topic Annai brought up much compared to the other things. “I have no idea. Maybe.”

  “It’s taking so long! We’ve been here for days now.”

  “Two and a half.”

  “Whatever. It’s taking ages and I’m sick of sitting in this tiny room…”

  And there came the usual complaints. Quilla paid them no mind and thought about lying down again, but a knock came from the door.

  Annai fell silent and looked to the door.

  “Coming!” Quilla pulled out the key and went to the door. It was probably Ulises or Jona—or maybe staff from the inn. Nobody else came knocking at their door. Nevertheless, she kept it locked just in case. “Who is it?”

  A voice she didn’t recognise responded, “A friend with oranges and cherries aplenty. Time to feast.”

  “One moment.”

  Annai leapt to her feet and fetched a dagger from the table by Quilla’s bed and brought it over to her. She then returned to her bed and pulled out her sword from under it. Then she nodded to Quilla.

  Gripping the dagger in one hand and the key in the other, Quilla breathed slowly. The person on the other side of the door had given the correct passcode to identify them as someone in Ulises’s employ, but they couldn’t be too careful. She slid the key into the lock, turned it, then opened the door.

  A figure in a hooded winter cloak strode past Quilla into the room, pulling off gloves. The person then pulled back the hood of the cloak, revealing a head shaved on each side with only a line of red hair down the middle. She looked about the room. Her eyes paused briefly on Annai, then stopped on Quilla. Her mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. “I’m in awe.”

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  “Of me?” Quilla said.

  The woman’s smiled broadened. “Of course of you.” She stepped forward, arms wide, as if to hug Quilla, apparently unconcerned about the dagger in Quilla’s hand. She stopped just short of the dagger’s point, and clasped Quilla’s shoulders. She sniffed the air, her eyes closing momentarily as she sighed contentedly. “The Catalyst. I can’t imagine anyone I’d be more in awe of. Not even Night himself, I’d wager.”

  She had deep blue eyes and light skin that, at first, suggested she was a Folith, but there was a hint of pale brown that suggested she had some Eloorin blood as well. She had several small scars on her face and head, and on the right side of her neck, a little above the shoulder was a tattoo of a goat skull. It was small, but surprisingly out in the open. There was a hint of another tattoo below it, but obscured by her cloak.

  “Like it?” the woman asked.

  Quilla gulped. “Isn’t it...um…?”

  “A little obvious?”

  “Yeah.”

  The woman grinned. “From a distance, no one can tell what it is. Even if they’re up close enough to make out details, most people don’t know its significance, and if they do…” She let go of Quilla and made an exaggerated shrug. The back of each hand had a dagger-shaped tattoo on it. “I don’t care. It’s kind of fun.”

  “Excuse me,” Annai said, “who are are you?”

  The woman turned. “I take it you’re Annai.”

  Annai raised her sword a little. “I am, and if you know who I am, you know the proper form of address—”

  “Just as bitchy as I was warned, I see.” The woman turned back to Quilla. “Now, Catalyst—”

  “Excuse me?”

  The woman spun round again and stepped towards Annai, hands out. “Now look, Princess. I don’t care—”

  Annai levelled her sword at the woman, the point just touching her jerkin. “Back off. I know how to use this, you know.”

  The woman raised her hands, palm out, and stepped back. As Annai relaxed her stance a little, the woman leapt around the blade and behind Annai. In a flash, she twisted Annai’s arm behind her back, and the sword clattered to the floor. Annai screamed and tried to struggle, but the woman held her fast.

  Quilla took a step towards them, but stopped. The woman had no weapon drawn. She was only holding Annai.

  “Let’s get something straight,” the woman said. “I don’t care who you are, or what your titles are. I don’t give a damn about you.” She twisted Annai’s arm a little more and turned her to face Quilla. “I’m here to protect the Catalyst. That’s my sole purpose. However, I’m told she wants you alive as well, so I’ll protect you too. I won’t let any harm come to you for as long as the Catalyst wants you safe. But I am no one’s servant, especially not yours. I will not bend the knee, curtsy, call you Highness, or any other bullshit. Got it?”

  Annai whimpered something, tears pouring down her face.

  “What was that, bitch? Speak properly.”

  “Yes!” Annai gasped. “I got it! I got it!”

  The woman let go of Annai and shoved her aside. Annai collapsed on her bed, sobbing.

  The woman untied her cloak and tossed it over Annai, then turned to Quilla. “I hope you got it too. I will defend you with my life, but I’m not your servant.”

  Quilla nodded. “Yeah, got it, but would it kill you to tell us who you are?”

  The woman snorted. “I suppose not, but the Princess’s reputation precedes her. I thought it best to get certain things out of the way right from the start. I’m—”

  “Ah! I see you’ve already met Veronique. Excellent.” Ulises strode into the room. “I wasn’t sure if she’d arrived yet.”

  “You can call me Vern,” Veronique said.

  Two men followed Ulises into the room. One of them, a short, mousy man with a mop of curly grey hair flopped down on the end of Quilla’s bed. The other…

  Sam?

  The other looked like Sam, one of Dyle’s right-hand men. But Sam was dead. Rudiger had cut him in half right in front of Quilla. She could still feel the blood splatter on her.

  “You all right?” Sam said, looking at her.

  Quilla shook her head. “No, I just…”

  Ulises made a wide gesture towards Sam. “Let me introduce Tarm.”

  Wait. Not Sam?

  He then made an equally large gesture towards the other man. “And Jakka.”

  Quilla took a closer look at Tarm. No, he wasn’t Sam. He looked almost identical—tall, muscular, bald—but not exactly the same. Sam’s nose had been crooked from having been broken in the past. This man’s nose was prominent and straight. “I’m sorry,” she said to him. “You just look like someone I know. I was taken aback for a moment.”

  The big man laughed. “I get it. You must be thinking of my brother, Sam. As Mister Aderman’s wife, you must have met him.”

  His brother. That explained it.

  “We’re twins, so it’s easy to mix it up. How’s Sam doing? Haven’t seen him in a while.”

  “Oh, he’s...uh…” What was she supposed to say? She looked to Ulises.

  “We’re not entirely sure,” Ulises said. “Naturally, he’s with Mister Aderman, but Mister Aderman is currently keeping his location secret. Not even his wife knows where he is right now.”

  “I’m not—” No. Quilla clamped her mouth shut. There might be an advantage to letting these people think she was still Dyle’s wife. “I mean, Sam was fine last I saw him. He’s always good to me, and my favourite of Dyle’s men.” The last bit wasn’t entirely untrue. She’d never liked Sam, but she disliked him less than the rest of Dyle’s cronies.

  Tarm grinned. “Sam’s a good guy.”

  “Can we get to the bonding?” Veronique said. “There’ll be lots of time for reminiscing on the road.”

  “Bonding?” Quilla said.

  “Yes, you and me. We…” Veronique looked at Ulises. “You haven’t told her?”

  Ulises straightened up with a sigh. “I only received confirmation you’d accepted the job last night. I haven’t had a chance to tell her anything yet.”

  Veronique rolled her eyes. “Go on then.”

  Ulises straightened his tunic and cleared his throat.

  Quilla lowered her head to hide a smile. She was starting to like this Veronique, if only because of her ability to keep assholes in line.

  “Veronique here will be your bodyguard for your journey. She has received a very unique blessing from the Lord of Darkness himself. She can create a bond with her charge. It allows her to sense when you are in danger and grants her exceptional strength and agility when defending your life.”

  “Yes, so let’s get the bonding done, shall we?”

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