I took them and closed my eyes, calling on my Huntress power. Without the voices to distract me, it responded immediately, clear and focused. I could see them both. They were at Misery’s End. Strange.
“Why are they in the theater?”
He coughed. “That’s where you’re to meet him.”
“Perfect.”
“Whatever plan you think you have?—”
“He can’t kill me. I’ll be fine.”
I walked away before he could say more, before he could try to reason with me or, worse, find a loophole in our bargain. The setting sun cast long shadows across the garden as I passed Archer’s statue once more.
“Watch over them,” I whispered to the bronze figure. “I’ll be back soon.”
As I slipped out of the garden and into the gathering darkness, I couldn’t help but smile. Ezra thought he was luring me into a trap. He didn’t realize that I was counting on exactly that.
60
Paesha
The streets of Silbath stretched before me like the skeleton of a memory—familiar bones stripped of flesh, hollowed and haunted. Shiny, new and ultimately terrible because of the hand that touched them all. That took away what made this city beautiful—the wrought iron railings, the history, the stories of this city. One day. One day I’d come back and undo what Aeris had done, but not this one.
I moved through the gilded streets with purpose, my dagger from Harlow a comforting weight at my hip. My footsteps echoed against cobblestones that had once known me as no more than another desperate dancer, not a queen, not a goddess.
Just Paesha. Another girl trying to survive.
Funny how things changed. Funny how they didn’t.
Misery’s End loomed ahead. I could almost see myself as I once was, younger, hungrier, slipping through the back entrance with my worn slippers clutched to my chest, heart pounding with the anticipation of the stage.
I didn’t bother with stealth or subtlety. What was the point? Ezra knew I was coming. He’d orchestrated this entire production, after all. Might as well give the bastard the entrance he expected.
I kicked the front doors open, standing in the corridor. Empty. Silent.
I moved up the stairs, through the hall and to the theater doors, again kicking the door in.
The theater wasn’t dark and empty as I’d expected. No, that would have been too simple for Ezra’s twisted sense of drama. Instead, the space blazed with light, every lamp burning, every candle flickering, illuminating an audience that made my blood run cold.
Mortals. Hundreds of them, packed into every seat, spilling into the aisles. Their faces were pale with fear, eyes wide as they turned toward me. I recognized so many of them.
Mortal people.Mypeople.
Unmade Guardians stood at every exit, their blank eyes and rigid postures promising swift punishment for any who dared move. But the stage, that was where my attention fixed, where fury and dread coalesced into a hard knot in my chest.
Ezra stood in a pool of light, wearing all black, his perfect features fucking giddy with anticipation, as if we were meeting for tea rather than whatever nightmare he had planned.
“Huntress! Right on time. I do appreciate punctuality in my performers.”
I strode down the center aisle, deliberately slow, deliberately casual, even as my mind raced through options, calculations, possibilities. “Love what you’ve done with the place. The whole ‘summon your enemies for dramatic confrontations’ aesthetic is so last century, but you’re really pulling it off. Should I have brought snacks? Evil monologues are always better with snacks, don’t you think? For the dramatics and all.”
Ezra’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it widened. “I do adore your spirit.”
“Wish I could return the compliment, but your taste seems questionable at best.” I gestured to the filled theater.“Kidnapping? Really? That’s a bit pedestrian for a supreme being, isn’t it?”
I reached the edge of the stage and stopped, looking up at him with deliberate insolence.
“I prefer to think of it as ‘gathering an appreciative audience,’” Ezra replied, extending a hand as if to help me onto the stage.
