“This isn’t that kind of business,” Marcus said, stepping closer. “And we need to find him tonight.”
Fear flickered across the slave’s face. “I cannot—”
“He attacked a woman today,” I interrupted, watching his reaction carefully. “At the academy. Forced himself on her in the changing rooms.”
Something shifted in the slave’s expression — a hardening around the eyes, a slight tightening of his mouth. Recognition. This wasn’t the first time.
“My master’s activities are not my concern,” he said stiffly, but there was a new undercurrent to his voice.
Tarshi moved closer, his black eyes reflecting the dim lamplight. “We’re not here to cause trouble for you,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “But this woman is important to us. And your master hurt her.”
The slave glanced over his shoulder, then back at us. “If my master discovered I had spoken to you…”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch, heavy with coin. More than this man would see in a year of service. “This buys your freedom,” I said quietly. “Enough to leave the city tonight, start somewhere new.”
His eyes widened at the sight of the pouch.
“Where is he?” Marcus pressed.
A heartbeat of hesitation, then: “The Crimson Veil. It’s a private establishment in the merchants’ district. He goes there most nights after sunset.” The slave’s voice dropped lower. “He has four guards with him. Professional fighters, not just household soldiers.”
I pressed the pouch into his hand. “You never saw us.”
He clutched the coins to his chest, eyes darting between us one last time. “When you find him... make it hurt.” Then he was gone, disappearing into the labyrinth of back alleys.
The Crimson Veil turned out to be exactly the kind of establishment I expected — an exclusive club where the empire’s wealthy young men indulged their vices away from the scrutiny of court. The kind of place that required either significant coin or significant family connections to enter.
We had neither, but we didn’t need to go inside. We stationed ourselves in the shadows across the street, watching the ornate doors with predatory patience.
“What’s our plan?” Marcus asked, his voice barely audible over the ambient noise of the district.
“We wait until he leaves,” I replied. “Follow him to somewhere quieter, then—”
“Then I kill him,” Tarshi interrupted. There was something in his tone that made me glance at him sharply. His face was a mask of controlled rage, but beneath it, I sensed something else — something volatile and dangerous that I’d never seen in him before. A shiver ran down my spine, though not from fear.
“We kill him,” I corrected.
The wait stretched two hours, each minute tightening the coil of tension between us. Marcus grew increasingly agitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“I should get back to Livia,” he said finally. “She’ll wake and wonder where I’ve gone.”
“Go,” I told him. “Tarshi and I can handle this.”
He hesitated, clearly torn between his desire to protect Livia and his need to exact vengeance on the man who’d hurt her.
“She needs you more than we do,” Tarshi added, surprising me with his insight. “We’ll make sure it’s done.”
After another moment’s hesitation, Marcus nodded. “Make it quick,” he said. “But make sure he knows why he’s dying.”
With that, he slipped away into the night, leaving me alone with the half-breed.
“Do you think less of her?” Tarshi asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence between us. “For going to Marcus instead of us?”
The question caught me off guard. “No,” I answered honestly. “She went where she felt safe.”
“But not to you,” he pressed, a hint of challenge in his tone. “Her childhood friend. The one who swore to protect her.”
I bristled at the implication. “And not to you either, whatever you are,” I shot back. “So what does that say about both of us?”
