Throne Hunters Book 1, Chapter 20

Evernessa arrived just after breakfast, opening the front door without knocking and calling out her hello.

Harald led the way out from the kitchen, and there she was, wearing leather breeches, a peasant’s blouse cinched around her narrow waist with a broad belt, and her mass of dark curls gathered by a band of gold to then cascade down her back.

Evernessa. For years, he’d dreamed of her being more than a friend, had watched her through so many late-night revelries, admiring her confidence, her casual cruelty, her wry wit, her natural beauty. Such was her charm that she could look as devastating in a bathrobe as she could a ballgown. She had that careless charisma, that laughing confidence, that dark allure that made everything she did, every pose she took, every moment of distraction or fixation just as fascinating and arresting.

She smiled at the sight of the three of them, her features drawn, her gray eyes ringed with shadows. “And here I am, as promised.” She spread her arms, her smile mocking, and gave a shallow curtsy. “My bags are at the base of the steps. Sam, be a dear and fetch them?”

“Sam’s free of her oath,” said Harald. “A lot’s changed this past week.”

Evernessa raised one finely arched brow. “Freed? It would seem congratulations are in order, then. Still, I’m tired. Could somebody fetch my bags?”

“I’ll do it,” sighed Sam, striding forward. “Before Vic orders me to as his ‘disciple’.”

“I said not a word!” protested Vic, putting his hand to his chest. “But welcome, Nessa, to our cozy little home. It’s been a dream, living together like this. You’re going to adore it. All the wine you can drink, the run of the house, and what’s more, Harald will now do whatever you say as long as you can convince him it’s training.”

Harald felt his cheeks burn as Nessa chuckled throatily. She made her way forward, moving with great deliberation, and as she drew near, the reek of a night on the town came with her, that of wine, yearnsmoke, and who knew what tavern. She placed her palm on his cheek and leaned in. “You always were so accommodating, weren’t you, Harald? I… I…”

Nessa’s eyes abruptly rolled up in her head as her legs gave out. Harald grabbed hold of her as she sagged, and then Vic was there, helping pull her over to one of the chairs set against the wall.

“Darling,” said Vic, tone hushed as he checked her pulse. “What have you been doing? Don’t tell me you were at The Last Rose last night?”

“Hmm?” Nessa turned her head away, her full lips pulling into a smile. “Of course not. Never. And even if I was, I’m not there now, am I? I’m here. With Harry.” And her eyes fluttered as she smiled up at him.

Her skin was tight over her cheekbones, her lips pale.

“The angels damn it,” muttered Vic, pulling her sleeve back down. “She needs rest and water. Darling, you were supposed to work today. You’re of no use to us like this.”

She closed her eyes as she struggled to sit up. “I can work. Just you watch. I brought all my blades. Anyone who thinks otherwise… they can…”

Her head rolled to one side, and she fell asleep.

“I suppose we’ll have to carry her to bed,” sighed Vic.

“What’s going on?” asked Harald quietly. “What’s The Last Rose?”

“A place for idiots.” Vic’s tone was tight with barely constrained anger. “To which she swore she’d never return. Well. If she doesn’t get her act together, we may need to find you a new tutor.”

“Don’t be a fool,” said Nessa, her eyes still closed. “Even like this I can outfence anyone in Flutic.”

“Now that’s a bald lie.” Vic bent to scoop her up in his arms. “Come on, Harry-boy, let’s get her upstairs. Sam? Sam! Bring warm salted water. We’re going to have to purge this idiot if she’s to be of any use to us.”

Sam had just appeared in the doorway, two carpetbags in hand, and stared in confusion at the scene. “What happened?”

“Warm salted water, if you will. Harry? Lead on.”

They climbed to the second floor, and placed Nessa in the room Sam had prepared for her. Vic unlaced and tugged off her knee-high boots, but when he considered the rest of her clothing he scowled. “Damn it.”

“Vic.” Harald pulled him away. “She’s not just exhausted or drunk. What’s going on?”

Vic cut an angry glance at where Nessa lay, then shook his head. “She’s a fondness and weakness both for angel’s glory.”

Harald’s eyes widened. “She does glory?”

“Oh, calm down, she’s hardly the only one. But, yes.” Vic bit the corner of his lip. “Though she’d sworn to me that she was done. Do you recall some four months ago when she and I disappeared for several weeks? You were driven half-mad with loneliness?”

“I… yes. I started asking around. Nobody knew where you were.”

“I was helping her get off the glory.” Vic’s expression was hard and angry and saddened all. “It wasn’t pretty, Harry-boy. But she swore she was done, and it’s not as if I’m her mother. When I saw her yesterday afternoon, she was fine. Fiddling away in her apartment. She’d signed up for another audition to enter the Conservatory, said she was done with the violence. That it was… banal.”

“And… what? You think this job tipped her over?”

“Perhaps. When I told her how much it might pay, her eyes lit up like bonfires. I thought it mere greed. But now look at her.”

Nessa’s black curls were spread across the pillow, one hand curled before her face, her breathing shallow and rapid, her brow covered with a sheen of sweat. She looked fevered.

“Fuck,” said Vic.

Harald felt lost. His whole life, he’d enjoyed skirting around the edges of Flutic’s true dives, escorted by Vic and his friends who seemed perfectly at home in even the most dangerous corners of the metropolis. But his father’s rank disdain for drugs had made an impression on him. Even when most tempted, he’d never done more than a puff or two of yearnsmoke.

To think Nessa, who’d always seemed so perfectly in control of herself, so confident and assured and disdainful of the world, could be using angel’s glory…

Sam entered the room with an empty bowl and large pitcher in hand.

“There,” said Vic. “Well, Harald, I’ll put it to you. Do we do our best by Nessa, and try to get her on her feet, or shall we kick her out on her ass when she wakes up so that we may hunt for another instructor?”

“What’s wrong with her?” asked Sam.

Harald told her.

If anything, Sam was even more shocked, and drew back from Nessa as if she were contagious. “Angel’s glory? There’s no curing that. And we don’t have the time or energy to help her.”

“True,” said Vic. “Now, Harald, imagine Nessa was a corpulent man of fifty years called Blogbert. What would you decide then?”

“Good point,” said Sam. “Harald’s always fancied Nessa. He’ll just agree to help her because he’s smitten.”

Harald crossed his arms. There was so much on the line. So little time. And angel’s glory was infamous for how many people it had killed since appearing in the city a decade ago.

“Vic, tell me honestly. How good a teacher is she?”

“At her best?” Vic considered. “Excellent. She’s a Level 4 Bladeweaver. But beyond that, she’s a knack for conveying knowledge. Probably part of her bardic talent. And honestly, we’re getting her at a sharp discount, given that I know that she’s broke and depends on me for business.”

“How much are you paying her?” asked Sam suspiciously.

“None of your business, my upstart maid. Regardless, she’s not at her best.”

“No.” Harald rubbed at his jaw. “Did she seem high when you spoke to her yesterday? Or show any signs of having done glory?”

“No. Though I’m no medic, and Nessa is an actress nonpareil. Still, I’ve known her for seven years now. I think not.”

“Then… I don’t know how this all works, but could she just have relapsed for one night?”

“Oh, Harald.” Vic’s gaze was pitying. “You’re reaching for justifications, aren’t you?”

“I told you,” said Sam.

“This is what we’re going to do.” Harald licked his lower lip, thoughts coalescing. “We’ll make her an offer when she wakes up. She can stay here, live here, teach Sam and me, on the condition that she not do angel’s glory. The moment she does, she’s out. Furthermore, we’re going to ensure there’s no temptation. She won’t be allowed to leave the house without one of us escorting her.”

“She’ll never agree to that,” said Vic.

“Then she’s welcome to leave, and Sam and I will hunt down that Eadwolf instructor her smith told her about.”

“Ooh, an ultimatum,” said Vic. “You know those are only as effective as their enforcement? What’s to stop her from shimmying up to you as she’s always done, putting her hand on your chest and with just the largest, most sorrowful eyes begging for your forgiveness? I’ll be frank, it wouldn’t be the first or tenth or hundredth time she’s wrapped you around her finger.”

“I know.” Harald shook his head morosely. “I can’t count how many scales I’ve ‘loaned’ her over the years. But this time is different. She’ll get one chance, and one chance alone. And if she lies or breaks our agreement? Then it’s over.”

“You’re making a mistake,” said Sam, tone flat. “She can’t be trusted.”

“There’s only one way to find out. But if she’s as good as Vic says, and she’s willing to try, I’ll give her a chance. And no. I won’t lie. She’s a friend. We’ve known each other for five years now. If she’s willing to do her part, then I’m willing to risk it.”

“Never change, darling,” said Vic, patting Harald on the shoulder. “That way, you’ll always be a source of wealth and good times for me and mine. Now, both of you, out. I must begin the singularly unpleasant business of purging our dark angel, and you won’t want to see what that involves. Only come in if I call for you, understood? Ignore whatever sounds emanate from this room otherwise. Even if it does sound like I’m killing her.”

Harald hesitated, but when Sam nodded firmly, he did the same.

“We’ll be in the gym doing our exercises,” said Sam. “The perfect opportunity for me to work out my frustrations on this bonehead.”

“Call us if you need help,” said Harald weakly. “Good luck.”

“There’s precious little luck involved,” sighed Vic, unbuttoning his cuff. “Just an iron stomach, deaf ears, and a heart of stone.”

Harald paused at the threshold. For a moment, he stared at Evernessa’s peaceful face, and then he grimaced, stepped outside, and closed the door behind him.