Fractured Magic: Chapter Twenty-Four

Fractured Magic is a fantasy webserial about political and personal accountability, ghosts both figurative and literal, and a pair of estranged friends who act like they’ve gone through the world’s messiest divorce.

Leandros glanced over his shoulder, unable to shake the sense of wrongness that followed him—a sense not just of being watched, but of being hunted. The feeling on its own didn’t surprise him, but the persistence of it did. Everywhere he went in Gallonten, it followed. Even switching hotels hadn’t been enough to shake it.

At least his new hotel was close to the island, a straight shot down a busy thoroughfare. It shortened the time spent in-between, exposed to the world. Leandros had never been particularly cautious in his youth. He’d never worried after his own safety, but it was no longer just his safety on the line. This paranoia didn’t suit him, but if he died now, he had little faith Unity would continue the search for Amos.

He wished circumstances were different. He wished he could experience more of Gallonten. Everywhere he looked, people lived their lives and openly expressed their enjoyment of it. A man told stories to his friends, his movements animated. A woman broke out in bright, unrestrained laughter. A group rode by on horseback, calling out fond nicknames. There was so much feeling here: joy, humor, excitement, love. Leandros wanted to immerse himself in it wholly.

He recalled a story that had broken in Alfheimr a few years back. A previously healthy woman, the widow of a former Alfheim Council Member, died only months after her husband. In the weeks leading up to her death, she had gone blind and her voice had left her. When the postmortem revealed caustic damage to her airways and lungs, the city cried murder, but an investigation quickly uncovered the true culprit: the widow’s mourning veil.

The veil had had been made of the stiff black crape that had recently come into vogue, a fabric that was colored and treated with substances that stained her skin and filled her lungs with toxins—hematoxylin, bichromate of potash, and copper chloride. The saddest part of the story was that the unfortunate woman had known it was the veil causing her slow decay. Proper mourning was expected of her, and so she had mourned her husband to the last.

These days, Alfheimr’s rules, his own grief, and his family’s hopes covered Leandros like that veil. With every breath, he inhaled poison. He could not see a way out from this life.

Near the bridge to Unity Island, a frantic movement caught his eye. It was Eftychia O’Neill, sitting cross-legged on the fieldstone wall and waving at him. As Leandros approached, she patted the spot beside her. While he didn’t climb up to sit, he did lean against it. His mother would pitch a fit to see him leaning so casually in such a public place.

“Hello, Captain!” Eftychia greeted.

“Good morning, Ms. O’Neill.”

“Eftychia,” the orinian corrected. Then, “Actually, just Chia.”

“You seem in good cheer this morning,” Leandros said. He wondered if she was capable of being anything else.

Today, Chia wore a wide-brimmed straw hat decked with flowers and a similar sweater-skirt combination as the day before. None of it matched. She beamed at him. “I am indeed. Yesterday, my bosses gave me a terrible job. I hadn’t wanted to do it, and then just this morning, they told me I no longer have to. That would put anyone in good cheer, don’t you think?”

Leandros couldn’t help but feel concerned. Eftychia was an Enforcer; her “bosses” could only be the Magistrates, and Leandros suspected that “job” certainly didn’t refer to paperwork.

“What were you thinking about just now?” Chia asked.

“Just when?”

“When you stood across the square. You look sad when you think no one’s watching, I’ve noticed,” she said. This was only their second meeting that he knew of; to make such a perceptive observation, Leandros wondered how long she must have been watching. “That’s why I called you a mourning dove yesterday. They’re named that because of their calls, you know. Very mournful, just like your clothes.”

Leandros considered this, then answered, “I was thinking about how easily love lost can ruin an adventuring spirit.”

“Love lost? Do tell,” Chia said, leaning in.

 “You asked what I was thinking, and that’s all you’ll get.”

“How cruel,” Chia sighed, though she brightened again almost immediately. “Hello, Eresh! Oh, what’s wrong with you?”

Leandros looked over just as the dryad joined them, wide-eyed and out of breath. He clutched a newspaper to his chest. “Captain!” he panted. “Have you seen the papers?”

“No,” Leandros said, dread sinking through him like a heavy stone through water. He held a hand out. “Let me see.”

Eresh’s fingers tightened around the paper. “Captain—”

“Mr. Ochoa.”

With a grimace, Eresh handed the paper over. At first, Leandros thought it must be a joke. He read the headline again and again, but he couldn’t get past the first two words, big and bold and spelling out: EGIL RETURNS.

The dryad hurried to explain, “Several witnesses saw him, Captain. He told them exactly who he was and used his magic to prove it. He wanted them to send a message to Unity.”

“What was the message?” Leandros asked.

Eresh swallowed nervously. “That he was the one behind the break-in on the island. And that he was coming for them.”

The world around Leandros felt distant, like he was falling deeper inside himself. “It’s an imposter. Someone is only pretending to be him.”

Chia peered over his shoulder to read the paper. “Oh,” she said. She didn’t sound particularly surprised, and that made the heavy stone of dread settle right in Leandros’ gut, kicking up silt and sand. Did Unity know something he didn’t?

He thought back to the day of the break-in. That afternoon, he thought he’d seen someone that almost looked like—but no. It was impossible. He’d held Egil’s lifeless body in his arms. This was a lie, and hoping would only hurt him.

“Who else could break onto Unity Island?” Eresh asked. Then, studying Leandros’ face, “Do you want us to cancel today’s plans?”

The question, along with the gentle way it was phrased, annoyed Leandros. He opened his mouth to lash out, to free the anger that always waited to break out, but then Gareth arrived in much the same state as Eresh had: disheveled and out of breath. His waistcoat was off by one button, Leandros noticed, and his hat sat askew.

“Prince Nochdvor, good morning. Can we speak privately?” he gasped.

Another flicker of irritation.

“Is this about the papers?” Leandros asked. “I’ve already seen them.”

“The papers? No, I overslept this morning and didn’t have a chance to read them. Why? What did they say?”

“Oh dear,” Eresh said, sharing a look with Chia.

With a hand on his shoulder, Leandros steered Gareth away from the other two and onto the bridge, far enough to get away from the crowds. “What is it, then?” he asked.

Gareth removed his hat and fidgeted with it while he explained, “I overheard something terrible last night, Captain. I feel it’s my duty to warn you, relations to the other parties be damned. My sister was meeting with a friend—the one I put forward for the guard position, you remember. I hope you won’t think less of me for this confession, but I admit I was eavesdropping. I know it’s wrong, but I couldn’t resist. It’s a terrible habit I—”

“On with it, Ranulf. What did you hear?” Leandros said, manners forgotten in his urgency.

“They want to frame you for the break-in on the island,” Gareth blurted. “The Magistrates want you out of the way, and they said that if they can’t find your uncle, they’ll blame you for that, too.”

Leandros took a step back, putting some space between himself and his emotions. What Gareth said made sense. It fit with the Unity Leandros knew. Even so, his hands shook, his heart raced in his chest, and his ears rang. “Is that all?” he asked.

“I know, it’s horrib—ah? What do you mean, is that all?”

Leandros had been sure Unity would kill him for his threats on the island that day, but in a way, this was better. For days now, he’d been locking every door, checking every shadow, sleeping with a gun under his pillow. He never would have admitted it out loud, but he had only planned to survive long enough to rescue his uncle. After that, as long as he succeeded in that, he would’ve let them have him.

This, though. This changed things. If Unity wasn’t planning on killing him, then it could only mean that they needed him alive.

Yes, it was possible that the Magistrates still intended him for the gallows. Before that, though, he’d go to trial, and he was a Prince of Alfheimr. The whole world would be watching—was that not the perfect opportunity for Leandros to tell the world everything he knew? If they wanted him silenced, wouldn’t it be easier to simply kill him? They certainly had the means.

“It seems strange, doesn’t it? Framing me, instead of killing me?” Leandros asked, more to himself than Gareth. Gareth looked horrified.

The timing of this bothered Leandros, too. One of the Magistrates happened to share this plan on the same day Egil returned from the grave, claiming full responsibility for the break-in? It would be just like Egil, making himself a martyr to save someone else. Maybe those papers were right.

“Who did you say your sister was talking to?” he asked.

“A new friend of mine. He just split with his partner, so he’s been staying with me as he gets resettled. I put his name forward when the guard position opened because—”

“His name, Mr. Ranulf.”

Gareth fidgeted with his hat again. He looked guilty as he said, “Hallisey. Roman Hallisey.”

Roman Hallisey. Though Leandros kept a straight face, inside, he was falling and falling and falling away. “I see.”

“You know him, don’t you?” Gareth asked, watching Leandros like he was waiting for him to break. Little did he know that Leandros already had. Little did he know that Leandros was gone, floating somewhere outside his body, completely unmoored. “Who is he to you, Captain?”

“Describe him for me,” Leandros demanded, ignoring Gareth’s question. He could barely hear it, anyway, past the racing of his own heart. There was still a chance this was an imposter. He had to believe this was just an imposter.

Gareth blinked. “Ah…about this tall,” he said, holding a hand just above the top of his own head. “Curly hair, strikingly dark eyes.”

It was no imposter, but Leandros didn’t understand—why hadn’t Egil come back to him? “What did he have to say about your sister’s plan?” he asked.

“I didn’t hear the end of the conversation, I’m afraid.”

Leandros leaned back against the stone wall, his legs no longer able to support him. “How long has he been in Gallonten? Do you know?”

“At least as long as the Rinehart Festival has been running. His partner was one of the Webhon Players.”

Leandros closed his eyes. He knew exactly which one. He saw the actress’s face perfectly in his mind, gentle and lovely. So that was why she’d been on the island that day. And the man with her, the one he’d glimpsed only briefly, the one who had run from him, really had been Egil. Leandros was a fool.

He laughed suddenly, startling Gareth. Leandros barely recognized his own voice, not with all the bitterness in it. “It’s incredible, Mr. Ranulf, that you asked me so much about Egil when, all this time, you’ve had him living under your own roof.”

Gareth started. “I beg your pardon?”

Leandros shoved the newspaper at him. Without waiting for him to read it, barely waiting for him to take it, he made his way back to Eresh and Chia.

“Oh, Chia, please be careful not to fall,” Eresh said as Leandros approached. The dryad was peering over the wall, down at the steep rocks that led to crashing waves. When he noticed the alfar, he straightened. “Everything all right, Captain?”

“Perfectly. Where to first, Ms. O’Neill?” Leandros asked. He must have controlled his tone well enough, because Eresh relaxed and Chia smiled.

“I was thinking of taking you through my favorite park. Is that acceptable, Captain Adder?”

“Adder?” Leandros asked, but Chia was already wrinkling her nose and shaking her head.

“I saw the bottom of your tattoo and thought I’d try it out, but it definitely doesn’t fit.”

Leandros looked down at his wrist. At least today, his sleeve fully hid the tattoo that twisted up his forearm. He eyed her warily. It seemed she really had been watching him. Of the Enforcers, only she’d tried to befriend him, and that alone made her suspicious. He wondered if the “job” she’d mentioned earlier involved Unity’s plan to frame him, a plan now made pointless by Egil’s dramatic return.

He wondered where that left him. Safe from being framed, at least for now. It would be unwise to rely on speculation, but Leandros was beginning to suspect Unity wanted him alive. If true, being at an Enforcer’s side was probably the safest place in the world.

“Wherever you want to go is acceptable to me,” Leandros said, smiling at Chia. She smiled brightly back.

Once Gareth rejoined them, Leandros ignored the man’s attempts to catch his eye and followed Chia across the square. She linked her arm with his, and he allowed it because it meant Gareth and Eresh had to walk behind them on the sidewalk. Leandros really didn’t want to look at Gareth, right now. He didn’t want the reminder of Egil.

“How much do you know about Gallonten, Captain?” Chia asked, looking up at him from beneath long eyelashes.

Leandros didn’t notice. “Academically? A little. Practically? Much less. I’ve been here before, but only for short stays.”

“Then you may know that we stand in the historic downtown,” she said, gesturing broadly. “When Gallonteans first settled on the water, Unity was still part of the city. That building over there, the post office, was one of the first Unity buildings. It was only much later, when Unity had outgrown the city, that it moved to the island. Ah! Here we are.”

At that last part, she turned them toward a vividly green park. It was full of others out for promenades, getting the last out of the warm weather and their summer walking ensembles. Again, Leandros and Eftychia together collected attention, so Chia leaned in, her dark hair draping over his shoulder. “Captain, since I’m being such an excellent guide, may I ask you a few questions? I’d like to get to know you better so I can find you a nickname that fits.”

Leandros raised an eyebrow. “Very well, but only a few.”

“Too subjective!” Chia protested. “I can stretch a few to four or five. May I ask you five questions?”

“Three.”

“Very storybook,” she said, sounding pleased. She reached up, almost touching his face but stopping at the last moment. “Where did you get that scar? It looks very heroic.”

Leandros touched his cheek self-consciously. “I’m sorry to disappoint, then. I got it in a bar fight.”

Chia laughed and clapped her hands together, delighted.

“Really?” Eresh asked from behind them. “I didn’t think you even had those in Alfheimr—fights, not bars. I assume there are bars everywhere.”

“There are fights everywhere, too. This was from my first,” Leandros said. He’d tried to stay out of it, but a swing meant for Egil had missed and struck Leandros instead. Egil was the one who’d started the fight, who’d chosen the bar. Leandros had been angry at the time, but Egil was also the one who’d stitched him up afterward, who’d taken him to his favorite opera in apology, who’d taught him to defend himself so it never happened again.

Was he teaching that actress, now, too?

“May I ask you a question in return?” Leandros asked Chia. The orinian narrowed her eyes but nodded. “How did you end up in Gallonten?”

“I’ve never even been to Orean, if that’s what you’re asking. I grew up here. My turn: what scares you the most?”

Leandros didn’t for one moment consider giving an honest answer. “Red dragons. My father used to tell my cousin and I terrifying stories about them.”

“How traumatic!” Chia said. She took his hand and pressed it to her heart. “Don’t you worry: I’ll defend you from any we meet on the journey. From your father’s stories, too.”

As gently as he could, Leandros removed his hand. “There’s no need for that. My father was executed for treason a long time ago.”

Chia clapped a hand over her mouth.

“It’s all right,” Leandros assured her.

“What happened?” she asked tentatively. Frantically, she waved her hands between them. “No, don’t answer that! That wasn’t one of my questions!”

“It’s a matter of public record, so I won’t count it. He wanted the throne, tried to kill his own brother for it, and gave little thought to the lifetime of pain he was inflicting on his son in the process.” Leandros shrugged. “But there’s a novel based on the story; I’m sure Mr. Ranulf could tell you more.”

Gareth jumped at being suddenly addressed. “I—well, yes. It’s an Egil story. I’m familiar.” It was as if being given permission to speak had restored his confidence because he suddenly blurted, “Prince Nochdvor, how could Egil be back? Did you not kill him in Histrios?”

Beside Leandros, Chia went conspicuously quiet, watching the alfar for his response. Leandros neatly side-stepped the question. “Aren’t you the Egil scholar? I’d expect you to know the stories.”

“Damn the stories! The stories are clearly lies!” Gareth said. He stopped walking, and Leandros turned to face him. Anger flickered behind Gareth’s eyes, the most Leandros had ever seen from the man. Still, that flicker was nothing to Leandros’ raging inferno.

“Are you calling me a liar?” he asked calmly. He hoped Gareth recognized the warning in his voice for what it was, like a blistering doorknob warned of a blaze on the other side of a door.

“How could you be a liar if you haven’t said anything?” Gareth asked. “Prince Nochdvor, please. You disappeared and made the world take Unity’s word for what happened. Now, Egil’s back. Will you hide away for another sixty years before you tell us the truth?”

Leandros stepped up to Gareth, until Gareth had to crane his neck to meet Leandros’ eye. “You want the truth, Mr. Ranulf? I held Egil in my arms as he bled out. I felt the moment his heart stopped. If I did hide, it wasn’t because of people like you, demanding answers they don’t deserve. It was because I was in mourning. If Egil’s death was a lie, I was made more the fool than anyone, so watch where you direct your frustrations.”

Gareth fell back a step, eyes wide. “I didn’t know.”

“No, you didn’t,” Leandros said. He turned on his heel and stormed away, not waiting for the others to catch up. Chia kept pace with him; she gave his arm a comforting pat. “A lion cub,” she said. It felt like a peace offering. “That’s what you are. You’ll grow into your roar soon, I think.”

His anger reduced to a simmer, Leandros almost smiled. “I feel like I should be offended, but I suppose it’s better than a weasel.”

“Hey!” Eresh said from behind them. “Chia, please pick a different one for me.”

“Have you ever seen a weasel, Eresh? They’re so cute! Just like you.”

Chia and Eresh’s bickering gave Leandros time and space to get himself under control—and to stop thinking about Egil. Or to try, at least.

“Oh,” Eresh said suddenly. He eyed the park exit with a peculiar expression, and Leandros followed his gaze to an unusual tree with white bark—not spotted like a birch or chipped like a sycamore, but a uniform bleached-bone white. While the surrounding trees were still in varying stages of green and orange and hadn’t yet dropped their leaves, this one was already bare. It stretched over the walking path, bending on swollen joints.

“A candlewood tree? Here?” Gareth asked. When the others shot him looks, he explained, “There’s an orchard of them near my home in Adriad. We pass them whenever we head into town.”

“You know what they are?” Eresh asked, surprised. “Most humans don’t.”

Gareth nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. Beside Leandros, Chia stifled a yawn and looked around the park, clearly uninterested. “What is it?” Leandros asked.

“A grave—a grave marker, technically. In a way, it’s also a womb,” Eresh answered. “When a nymph dies, we’re buried in the ground, much like humans. Unlike humans, though, a candlewood tree grows over us. It stands for a decade or so until it one day blooms. When it drops its last flower, an infant sings its way out of the trunk. That’s why we view death so differently from the rest of you. From death comes life.”

“There’s a whole orchard of these?” Chia asked, tuning back in. “A field of dead nymphs?”

“And what is a cemetery?” Eresh countered. “It can be traumatic for a young nymph, singing their way out of a tree to find themselves completely alone. You never really recover from it, and I should know. When we keep them together, we can watch for blooms and be there when the nymph emerges. From the look of it, this one is fairly new. I do hope someone’s monitoring it.”

“I’m sure they are. The fact that the groundskeeper hasn’t cut it down means they must know what it is,” Chia said.

Eresh winced at the words cut it down but nodded, nervously running his hands over his mossy head. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“Come! Let’s continue the tour,” Chia said, skipping ahead. The others followed, passing out of the park and deeper into Gallonten. While Eresh pointed out historical buildings and unique architecture, Chia’s portion of the tour was more personal, filled with things like “Here’s where I got in my first fight!” and “This is the best bakery in the whole world.” It worked to distract Leandros, at least until the orinian looked over her shoulder and asked, “Lion cub, are you aware you’re being followed?”

“Captain,” Leandros tried to correct. It was better than the other Enforcers insisting on Your Highness and Prince Nochdvor, though.

“What do you mean, being followed?” Eresh asked, his voice rising an octave.

“I meant what I said. There are two of them: a human with a brownish beard and another with a wide-brimmed hat. They’re not very good; I caught sight of them three whole times, once at the bridge, once in the park, and again just now,” Chia mused.

Leandros was surprised she’d said anything. He’d noticed them as well but assumed they belonged to Unity. If Chia didn’t know about them, though, that couldn’t be the case. He frowned, concerned.

“So you didn’t know?”

“I knew. They’ve been around all week,” he told her. He’d seen them this morning, on his way out of his hotel. “It’s not always the same two—sometimes they’re in different pairings, like they’re taking shifts.”

“What! Lion cub, why didn’t you tell the Magistrates?” Chia asked. When Leandros only gave her a look in reply, she gave him a knowing look back and sighed. “Oh, that’s fair. It’s not us, though, I promise.”

Leandros believed her. He was beginning to understand that Eftychia O’Neill was not a dishonest person, but only because she knew the truth was often the more discomfiting option. “But who would be following the Captain?” Eresh asked. He kept looking back to see if he could spot the men in question.

“And why?” Gareth asked, more thoughtfully.

Chia ignored both of them except to say, “Stop it, Eresh. You’ll give away that we saw them.” She asked Leandros, “Do you know if they’re violent?”

“They’re certainly armed. I’ve been careful not to go anywhere alone since I first noticed them, so I can’t say for sure.”

“Do you know who they might be?”

Leandros shook his head. They could be anyone: fans of Egil’s, angry about Histrios. Someone from Alfheimr who wants me out of the picture. Someone who hates Unity and doesn’t want them to succeed.” A chilling thought occurred to him. “They could work for the woman who took my uncle.” Even as he said it, though, he doubted it. That woman didn’t strike him as someone who works well with others.

Chia considered this, then said, “There’s a little pedestrian mall near here that’s been closed for construction. What do you say we go there next? Just you and me, this time?”

That Leandros would consider going anywhere alone with an Enforcer was foolish, but he guessed Chia’s plan—goad them into attacking, and then: “You want to set a trap?”

Chia smile broadly. “I want to teach them not to mess with Unity’s things.”

A shiver ran down Leandros’ spine. He knew that should have bothered him more than it did. “Let’s go.”

“Eftychia! Your Highness! This—this is absurd!” Eresh said.

“I have to agree. Is this wise?” Gareth asked. “Whoever this is could be dangerous. Captain, maybe we could get—”

“Think carefully before you finish that sentence, Mr. Ranulf,” Leandros warned. “I can assure you, I’m dangerous enough on my own.”

“Well said! Come, let’s go. If they’re ever going to approach you, it’ll be when you’re alone with a poor, defenseless young girl. Farewell, Eresh! So long, Mr. Ranulf! It’s a shame we didn’t get to explore more of the city together!” Chia said, already waving her goodbyes. As they walked away, she dropped her voice and asked Leandros, quieter, “This is a fun way to end the day, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know about fun,” Leandros said. It was more reflex than truth, though. The truth was that he looked forward to working off this restless energy, to learning what these strangers wanted, to being able to sleep again without one hand on his gun.

“There may be more than just the two. I couldn’t tell,” Chia warned.

“It’s a good thing I have an Enforcer at my side, then.”

Chia threw back her head and laughed. “So you do know! Evelyne warned me you might. Shall I tell her, or keep it between us? It would be very funny to see her face when she learns for herself.”

Already, there were less people around them, and the crowds had thinned by the time they ducked around a barrier and turned onto an empty pedestrian street. The cobblestone path was half-torn up, but no construction crew was around today to work on it. Chia and Leandros had to take care picking through the carnage. Curious, Leandros asked, “Is Evelyne not your superior?”

Chia gave a shrug. “She’s had the job for far longer than me, but she’s not my superior. We don’t have superiors. I answer only to the Magistrates.”

That explained some of the tension between Evelyne and the others. “I see. I don’t suppose you have a gun?”

“No, I don’t like guns. They end fights too quickly. Here is perfect, don’t you think?”

It truly was an excellent place to orchestrate an ambush. They both slowed their paces to give their pursuers time to catch up, meandering on until, finally, they turned a corner and found two men blocking their way: one with a wide-brimmed hat and one with a brownish beard.

“Prince Nochdvor,” said the man with the hat, “You’re a hard man to catch.”

“I’m being caught, am I?” Leandros asked mildly, making Chia laugh.

The man hesitated, realizing something was off about his prey. They weren’t scared. They weren’t even surprised. He shared a look with his companion, who whistled, shrill and loud. Chia had been right—it was more than just the two. At the sound of the whistle, three others appeared behind Leandros and Chia, at the mouth of the narrow street. Leandros quickly assessed his opponents, then raised his hands in surrender. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” he said. Barely keeping the glee off her face, Chia followed his lead.

“I think we do. We’ve been after you for a long time, Your Highness,” the bearded man said. They had the look of mercenaries, well-dressed but nondescript. Each bore a weapon—short blades, guns, and one with callused fists—with a confidence that only came from experience. There was nothing supernatural about them, at least. Not like that woman from Illyon.

One of the ambushers shoved Leandros from behind. Normally, such a thing wouldn’t have budged him, but he stumbled forward, into the man with the hat, his hand flying to the man’s chest to catch his balance. They made this too easy. As soon as his fingers made contact with the man’s shirt, he twisted his hand in the fabric, slipped his foot between the man’s legs, and hooked his knees into buckling. Then, he pivoted, using his grip to lever the man to the ground. It happened so quickly that even Chia took a moment to process it. When she did, she laughed wildly and threw her shoulder into the ambusher closest to her.

None of them had expected Chia to contribute to the fight, their attention fixed wholly on Leandros, and she took advantage of that fact. She caught another with a powerful haymaker while Leandros moved counter-clockwise to her, on to the next mercenary in the circle. He grabbed and twisted the woman’s arm before she could aim her gun, then spun and jammed his elbow back into her face, wrenching her arm as he did. While she dropper her gun, he seized it and used it to shoot the man charging Chia. Chia, who’d braced herself for the blow, pouted. “You’re ruining my fun, lion cub!”

Leandros grinned, wider and sharper than he normally allowed himself, and dodged a blow from the man with the beard. He felt alive for the first time since the explosion in Illyon. No, since long before that. Flicking the safety on, he made a show of dropping the gun and kicking it away. “My sincere apologies.”

When the man with the hat, now back on his feet, came unsteadily at Leandros again, Leandros hit him squarely in the mouth once, twice, thrice, arms moving like the walking beams of a locomotive. Chia, who’d apparently been watching his form, called, “I never would’ve thought you a pugilist, Captain! Have you done any prize fighting?”

Leandros’ opponent spat out a tooth and swung at Leandros; it was obvious and clumsy. “I’m a Prince of Alfheimr, Ms. O’Neill. If I had, I wouldn’t tell you,” Leandros called back to Chia. It had taken some decades after the rest of the world for bare-knuckle boxing to come to Alfheimr, but as soon as it had, Leandros began regularly sneaking out of the palace to watch—and occasionally participate in—matches. It was one of his greatest pleasures, next to his penny dreadfuls.

“I hope you’ll give me a match sometime,” Chia said, casually kicking a mercenary that was struggling to their feet.

Leandros plunged his opponent’s own knife into the meat of his thigh and watched him fall. With that, only Leandros and Chia were left standing. “I could be convinced,” Leandros said.

A shrill cry from behind had them both pausing to look for the source. It came from Eresh, charging down the street with a small pocketknife and Gareth at his heels. The way he held the knife was all wrong; if he tried to stab anyone with it, it would be wrenched from his grip as soon as his opponent pulled away. “Mr. Ochoa, stop right there,” Leandros snarled, making the dryad stop short. He barely recognized his own voice, vicious and bestial. He hadn’t wanted them to see him like this. Chia was allowed, but only because she was like him. “We told you to go home for a reason!”

“They were only trying to help, lion cub,” Chia said, though she was clearly delighted by this side of him. She turned to Eresh and Gareth and wagged a finger. “He’s right, though. You could’ve gotten in our way, and we would have gotten in big trouble if you’d been hurt.”

Eresh stared at the ground, ashamed, but Gareth’s eyes were on something behind Leandros. Suddenly, he shouted, “Captain!”

Leandros turned. Behind him, the bearded man was pushing to his feet, already too close for Leandros to be able to move away. He held his knife, pulled from his own thigh, and was already raising it. It was only thanks to engrained instinct that Leandros lifted his arm to protect his torso. The knife bit into his forearm as the bearded man slashed, but he barely felt it: no pain, just a sting and the resistance of blade meeting bone.

The main raised his dagger to attack again, and Leandros didn’t think he’d be able to block it, this time. Before he had to, a gunshot echoed through the street.

Then another.

And another.

Just like that, the bearded man dropped again, three bullets in his back. Down the alley, his gun still raised, stood Roman Hallisey.

The world slowed around Leandros. Though he was loath to tear his eyes from this ghostly apparition, he looked down at his arm. There was blood—a sickening, dizzying amount of it. Chia and the others were at his side in an instant, Chia catching and steadying him when he sagged. He could barely feel the wound, which seemed strange; he could see far more of the inner workings of his arm than he was ever meant to.

He couldn’t move his fingers, he realized.

“Roman!” Gareth called urgently, but Roman was already approaching.

He looked the same as he always had—no, not exactly the same. His hair was shorter, his dark eyes tired. How many times had Leandros imagined those eyes watching him from a crowd, only to look and find them gone? How often had they appeared in his dreams, vanished again with waking? Were they real now, or was this just another ghost? There was only one way to find out. As Roman approached, he drew back and punched him in the face.

His fist met living flesh.

Roman grunted in pain and stumbled back, and Gareth cried out in alarm. Leandros shook out his hand. It wasn’t a great punch. He’d hoped to break a nose or a tooth, but when Roman touched his fingers to his lips, they only came away with a little blood. Still, Leandros was glad to see him bleed at all. Ghosts couldn’t bleed.

Roman glowered at Leandros. “Do you feel better now?”

“Let me try again and I might,” Leandros snarled back, his anger catching up with him before the pain did. Sixty years. Roman let Leandros think he was dead for sixty years.

“Gareth, remove your waistcoat,” Roman ordered, and Gareth obeyed without hesitation. Balling it up, Roman pressed it to the wound on Leandros’ arm. “You’re losing a lot of blood. You need to keep pressure on the wound,” he said slowly, clearly. Begrudgingly, Leandros replaced Roman’s hand on the waistcoat with his own, and then Roman guided Leandros’ arm higher with a gentle touch under his elbow. All his touches were gentle. Leandros had almost forgotten. “Keep it held above your heart.”

Said heart was beating quickly, unaware and uncaring that Leandros was angry with Roman.

“What do we do?” Eresh asked, looking to Roman for answers. As far as Leandros knew, the two had never even met. There was just something about Roman—fully Egil, in this moment—that claimed authority. Leandros wouldn’t let him have it.

“Check the bodies,” he said before Roman could speak. “I want to know how many are alive, and I want to know who hired them.”

“We need to get you medical attention,” Roman argued.

“It can wait.”

“Only one alive and unconscious, lion cub. I already checked,” Chia said. “I have their wallets and identification here—as much as they had on them, anyway. They kept pretty clean.”

Roman assessed Chia, his gaze flitting quickly from her ears to her tail to her hand on Leandros’ arm, finally ending at the brand on her wrist. His expression twisted with cold distaste.

“Roman is right, Captain. We should get you to a hospital,” Gareth said. Hearing that he was on a first-name basis with Roman already, Leandros’ expression soured to match Roman’s.

“No hospitals. I don’t want anyone knowing about this attack,” he insisted. That was a weakness he couldn’t afford to show. “Ms. O’Neill, do you have any idea who hired them?”

While Chia picked through the wallets she’d collected, Roman sighed. “They’re mercenaries from the Broken Pistol. A Council member put a bounty on your head. I’ve been following you since I found out.”

Leandros didn’t want to know how long that had been. As for the rest, he didn’t have it in him to be surprised. The Alfheimr Council had had it out for him since his father’s coup, especially after he started getting closer to Amos and Egil. He felt a headache coming on.

“My hotel is quite close,” Gareth suggested. “We could get you settled there and call for a private physician. My family has one in the city we trust.”

It was the best offer he’d get, and it was getting harder to think at all, his mind catching up to the shock the rest of his body was already experiencing. He felt numb, tingly. He still couldn’t feel his fingers. “Fine,” Leandros said. He saw red where his blood had soaked through the waistcoat, but he couldn’t feel the damp. “The police will be here soon; they’ll have heard the gun shots. Someone needs to stay and explain the situation. Roman, you won’t be needed: you stay.”

Roman shifted guiltily. “I can’t. I need Gareth for something.” Gareth gave him a wide-eyed, awestruck look and nodded so vigorously Leandros thought he’d injure himself. Seeing this, Roman sighed and asked Leandros, “You told him?”

“Would you have done it on your own?” Leandros asked. Then, answering his own question: “Of course not. Secrets come as easily to you as breathing.”

Roman winced.

“I’ll help you to Mr. Ranulf’s place, lion cub. I may work for Unity, but I’m still orinian, and that’s not a good thing to be when the police come around. Eresh, can you stay?” Chia asked.

“I—what—oh, I suppose,” Eresh said.

“Have them take any survivors directly to the island,” Chia said with a sweet smile that made Leandros shudder.

“I’m not leaving you alone with someone like her,” Roman said at the same time. “You must know what she is, Leandros.”

“And who are you supposed to be?” Chia asked, resting her hands on her hips.

“Your worst nightmare,” Roman said with a smile even sweeter than Chia’s had been.

“Mr. Hallisey, that’s enough. I trust her,” Leandros said. Roman’s eyes widened, then narrowed, his expression finally settling into something inscrutable. Leandros couldn’t shake the sense of being measured and found wanting, and it made him angry all over again. Who was Roman to judge him, after all this time? “If that’ll be all, Chia and I will go.”

Beside him, Chia stuck her tongue out at Roman while Gareth hastily scrawled an address and room number on the back of a visiting card. “My wife is home. Just tell her I invited you and that we’ll rejoin you when we can.”

“Take your time,” Leandros said. He didn’t look at Roman. “If I don’t have to see him again today, all the better.”

A LOT happened in this chapter! What did you think? Were you expecting the big reunion to go that way?

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