Chapter A Soul of Ash and Blood: THE SCENT OF ROT

Six guards had ridden out on horseback to take care of the Craven before they reached the Rise.

Three returned.

It was rare for those who fell outside the Rise to be brought back for burial rites. Sometimes, there was simply nothing left of the body for their loved ones to mourn. Usually, it was all due to the Ascended not wanting the people to know exactly how many were lost while fighting the Craven.

In other words, they didn’t want the people to know how little control they had of the situation.

I tensed as I watched one of the guards dismount just inside the Rise. The man was unsteady on his feet. I inhaled deeply, catching the stale-sweet scent of…

. Shit. Not liking the look of what I’d seen or smelled, I walked to the edge and waited for the guard to turn.

“Hawke Flynn.” The high-pitched, nasally voice of Lieutenant Dolen Smyth cut through the low chatter of those on the Rise. “You weren’t at roll call this afternoon.”

Pence bowed as was required for one of Smyth’s position. I didn’t. Instead, I tracked the dark-haired guard’s movements as he spoke with several other guards on the ground. “I was there.”

“I just said I didn’t see you,” Lieutenant Smyth snapped, which was utter bullshit. He’d seen me. I knew he had because he’d been eyeballing me like he wanted to see my head on a spike. “So, exactly how were you there, Flynn?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that question.” The guard I was tracking had started walking, leading his nervous horse to the stables. He turned briefly, his profile blanched in the firelight. I recognized him. Jole Crain. He was young. Fuck, he was younger than Pence. “I think it would be a question better asked of a Healer.”

“And why the hell would you think that?” Lieutenant Smyth demanded.

“Because if you didn’t see me…” I began, catching sight of Pence out of the corner of my eye. He looked as if he were attempting to disappear into one of the curved parapets. “Then there appears to be something wrong with your vision.” I turned to the Lieutenant then, smiling tightly. The white mantle of the Royal Guard flapped from his slender shoulders in the wind like a flag of surrender. While Smyth lorded his authority over others like far too many in his position, he’d earned that coveted spot among the Royal Guard. Only the strong and the skilled stayed alive long enough to make it off the Rise. “And I would suggest you have that checked out immediately.”

“There is nothing wrong with my vision.” The blond Lieutenant sputtered, and his normally ruddy cheeks flushed even more in anger.

I reminded myself that throwing his ass off the Rise would not do me any favors. “Then you did see me. Perhaps there is an issue with your memory, then.”

His nostrils flared as he took a step toward me, but then he stopped himself. The knuckles of his right hand turned white from how tightly he clenched the hilt of his broadsword. He didn’t draw it. It was clear he wanted to, though. Whatever instinct the man possessed had prevented him from making an entirely foolish choice. Or perhaps it was smarts. Smyth was as intelligent as he was a bastard.

And I was beginning to think he was perhaps too wise. Too observant.

Because he’d been on my ass from day one, watching my every move and asking too many questions.

“Your disrespect will be reported,” he said finally, his tone pitching even higher than usual. “And we’ll see what Commander Jansen has to say.”

My smile kicked up a notch. “I suppose we will.”

“Just so you know,” he bit out, lifting his pointed chin, “I’ve got my eye on you, Flynn.”

“Most do,” I replied, then winked.

Lieutenant Smyth’s shoulders stiffened. It appeared as if he wanted to say more, but disappointingly, he stalked forward, bumping my shoulder as he continued on the patrol path.

Chuckling, I looked to where Pence had nearly blended into the shadows of the parapet.

“Exactly how big are your balls?” the guard asked.

I snorted. “Normal size, the last I checked.”

“I don’t know about that.” Pence crossed the battlement, dragging a hand through his windblown hair. “Smyth is a prick.”

“I know that.”

“Then you have to know he’s going to do exactly what he said. He’ll go to the Commander.”

“I’m sure he will,” I said, straightening the strap of my baldric as I glanced at where I’d last seen the guard. “Jole Crain has a chamber in the dorms, right?”

“Yeah. He’s on the third floor.” Pence’s brow knitted. “Why do you ask?”

I shrugged.

Pence eyed me for a moment. “You aren’t worried at all about the Lieutenant, are you?”

“Not at all.” And I wasn’t.

Lieutenant Smyth didn’t even register on the list of things I was concerned about.

I lifted my gaze to the Citadel’s stone towers, then looked farther out past the edges of the Lower Ward and Wisher’s Grove, beyond the wider, nicer streets and lush manors. My stare fixed on the sprawling, arched walls of Castle Teerman, where the Maiden likely slept peacefully, safe in her stone and glass cage, out of reach.

But not for long.