Guided by starlight, Everna took to the streets.

Midnight loomed just around the corner, the black moon high in the sky surrounded by twinkling pinpricks of light. With the unobstructed skies came a fresh wave of frigid cold. It settled in her bones, a numbing cold that ate away at the meager warmth provided by her coat. She’d never felt a cold so deep and so pervasive that she wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back to the warmth of her bed after just a few moments outside.

Yet she pressed on, the scrap of paper she’d found in the letter heavy in her pocket as she trudged through the sidestreets. The main streets were quicker, but the risk of being seen kept her confined to the shadows. She couldn’t afford to be seen slinking about the town this late at night.

Pendel became something of a ghost town once the stars took to the sky. Oil lamps, hung from wooden posts perched on every corner, bathed the main avenues in a soft orange glow. Within them, the shadows cat by the night patrols and the occasional drunkard stumbling home from the tavern danced along the cobbled streets. She noted their positions and adjusted her route accordingly.

Everna was no rouge, and she certainly had no intentions of becoming one, but she had picked up a thing or two from her days at the academy. As the academy forbade parties on school grounds and the campus gates locked at midnight, the students had to find ways around the more inconvenient obstacles. The academy’s rules didn’t apply to private housing, and the trick to getting back onto campus undetected was to know the guards’ routines.

The academy’s guards switched their rotations every six hours and followed a set path, which ensured they had eyes on every inch of the perimeter. She knew where their paths began and ended, when the changeover occurred, and where each route took them. With that knowledge, sneaking past them was a simple matter of hiding behind the shrubbery and waiting for the right moment to vault over the wall.

Pendel’s Guard wasn’t as rigid. They merely had sections through which they wandered aimlessly, as the cross-hatched network of streets made moving unseen far more difficult. There were no abrupt bends or sudden corners to conceal her from their gaze. The moment she stepped from the alley, she had only seconds to dart into the next one.

She wasn’t up to mischief, per se, but a clandestine rendezvous with a stranger wasn’t an ideal excuse for being out so late. Her usual reasons wouldn’t hold water, either. Lyra lived in the farmlands south of town, and it was far too cold to justify a nighttime stroll. With the town hall so close to her destination, and Windmore in charge of the night shift, she’d never talk her way out of it.

As she approached the end of the side street, the largest obstacle lay before her; the hear of town. Two massive avenues, which converged in the large central plaza, split the Pendel into fourths. They offered no cover, only a narrow strip of snowy garden that ran through the middle. It was a rather clever form of defense that left any invading forces (or skulking barmaids) exposed to the ballista reached atop the outer walls.

At least, that’s what the book she read the other night claimed. It was a tedious read, but well worth it in the end. Everna knew the town well, but she wasn’t familiar with the hectic network of back roads. The drawn map that accompanied the book had been a godsend.

She peered around the corner of a large building and into the avenue that bisected the town to the north and south. There were guards in either direction, two small groups sweeping the side streets and back alleys for drunkards or children out after curfew. Beyond the occasional pickpocket from out of town, and apparently a phantom assassin, there weren’t many troublemakers in Pendel.

“Afraid to cross the street?”

Everna’s hand shot to her sword as she spun on her heels.

An empty alley way greeted her. There were no tracks in the snow to suggest someone had followed her. The nearby apartments remained dark, the frost-covered windows firmly shut. Frowning, she turned back to the avenue. The guards were still several side streets away, oblivious to her presence.

Then, from the corners of her eyes, she saw him. Unlike his appearance in her cell, he didn’t step from the shadows. Rather, he seemed to blink into existence, as if materializing from thin air. Invisible, she realized.

She kept a firm grip on her sword, though the blade remained sheathed. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s almost half past midnight.”

Everna raised a dubious brow. “The Winter Star hasn’t peaked in the sky.”

Her parents taught her to read the stars, to heed their guidance. Thye gave not only direction, but time to those who knew them well. She’d learned many years ago that winter brought with it the brightest of stars, and when it shone directly overhead, the day began anew.

It wasn’t half past midnight; it was midnight.

“Would’ve been by the time you got to the gate,” he amended.

She hummed, unconvinced. He looked exactly as he had the night he sneaked into the tavern, dressed in blackened leathers and hidden beneath the cowl of his cloak. There, in the darkness, she could hardly see more than a sliver of his face.

She bit back a groan as realization dawned on her. If he had known he was the source of the letter, she’d have stayed in bed. Perhaps she should have. In hindsight, she hadn’t made the wisest decision; anyone could’ve slipped that note into the envelope.

“Then I assume my suspicions were correct, and you were the one behind the Courts’ insane decision?”

The hood shifted, his head tilting slightly and his chin dipping. After three years of dealing with the Inquisitors, with their robed bodies and veiled faces, she learned to read the finer details of body language. She knew that motion well. He’d rolled his eyes.

“The Courts weren’t as cooperative as I expected,” he admitted. “This little ploy was the only way they’d agree to forestall judgment. Still, you’re alive, and I’m not so heartless as to leave a poor academy slag to clean up this mess on her own.”

He’d seen her records then. Or the Inquisitor had informed him of her studies .

“Your kindness is absolutely awe-inspiring,” she drawled. “For the record, I didn’t fail my courses. My sponsor wasn’t honest about where he’d gotten the money and I had no choice but to withdraw. I’d have graduated with honors otherwise.”

Even if she hadn’t lost her funding, she’d have withdrawn the moment she learned her benefactor paid her tuition with stolen donations from the temple. Not only was it immoral, the legal mess that would’ve come from it would not have been worth the trouble. If the Courts discovered she’d known and kept silent, the academy would have dropped her and she would’ve faced charges for accessory to fraud.

“You could be a little more grateful, you know. I had to pull a lot of strings to save your neck.”

She snorted. He hadn’t stopped her execution, he only delayed it for the unforeseeable future. She had two months to accomplish the impossible. At any minute, for any reason, the Courts might decide she wasn’t working fast enough for them. One mistake and they’d find her guilty of interference.

Perhaps he hadn’t, and he was merely taking credit for the Inquisitor’s decision. That seemed more likely. Only the Three Houses and the royal family had any influence over the Courts, and their power in that regard was less than most would think. The Courts might favor their status, but they weren’t so easily swayed by money. It wasn’t necessary; the Courts, had more power than the nobility, and just as much power as the Crown.

If they couldn’t exert their influence, she had no reason to believe some shadow-dwelling scoundrel could do anything for her.

Yet, there she was, standing in a darkened alley rather than a cell in the capital’s prison.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he rolled his eyes again. “You haven’t a clue what’s going on, do you?”

“No.”

“You’re being used.”

“By you or the Inquisitor?”

The smile that touched his lips seemed far more genuine than the one she’d received in her cell. “Not as naïve as I initially assumed. Good. There’s hope for you yet.”

“I’m confused, not stupid,” she pointed out. “Just answer the damned question. I’m not out here freezing my ass off for the sake of idle chatter.”

He pushed off the wall and turned to face her, his arms folded over his chest. Blackened leather hugged his slender frame. A longsword hung from his hip. Two daggers hugged his left thigh.

“Both, if you want total transparency,” he said. “But the Inquisitors’ plans for you are unfortunately grim.”

“And I’m supposed to believe yours are any better?”

“Sweetheart, you’re the bait,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing. “The Courts know you don’t have a chance in hell of figuring it out. They didn’t let you go so you could do their job for them. They did it to make theirs easier.”

She pursed her lips. It made more sense than anything else had. There was no evidence. No suspects. The Courts were just as stumped as she and Sir Swiftbrook.

She was the only lead.

“Oh…”

“I’m a little disappointed you didn’t figure that out sooner,” he said. “That was their grand plan: pressure you into sticking your nose into it so you’d draw more attention to yourself. As far as they’re concerned, you’re already dead.”

Everna narrowed her eyes. “Just who are you? How do you know this?”

The man shrugged. “I go by a lot of things. Though lately I’ve taken a liking to the name Wil. As for how I know this, did the Inquisitor not tell you?”

“You’ve told me more than they did,” she said.

“No one mentioned Shadowguard?”

That rang a bell. “Yes, the Inquisitor mentioned that, though only in passing.”

Wil sighed and muttered something under his breath — elvish, from the sound of it.

“It’s an underground organization, but a legitimate one,” he explained. “We work from in the shadows and behind the scenes. Like the Inquisitors, but more involved and our influence extends beyond Inverness.”

“Why does this sound like a recruitment pitch?”

The grin that touched his lips confirmed her fears. “You already agreed to that. I spare you the noose, and you cooperate when the time comes.”

Everna pinched the bridge of her nose. She had agreed to that, hadn’t she? He kept his word. The Courts released her.

And he threatened to kill her if she didn’t comply.

“I suppose I did,” she said, albeit reluctantly. “What do you want me to do?”

He turned to peer into the street, then said, “Follow me.”

Wil led her into the alley across the street, and from there, to the northwestern quadrant. The further they went, the more uncertain she became. There were only three things of interest in that part of town. The town hall loomed in the distance, the upstairs windows in the northern corner illuminated. A quarter mile away stood the Guard post, a towering shadow against the night sky, and behind it, the barracks. The rest was residential.

She bit the inside of her cheek. It was the last place she wanted to be. If anyone caught her near the Guard post at this hour, there'd be no getting out of it. Sir Swiftbrook might understand her intentions, but she'd put him in a precarious position. With the recent charges of murder — nay, treason — levied against her, he'd have no choice but to condemn her to maintain the secrecy demanded by the Courts.

Windmore would never let it slide.

Wil stopped two side streets short of the post. "I assume you haven't seen the records from that night?"

"Why would I have? I don't have permission to access them," she said. "Besides, the ones I'd think are of any value are missing."

A sharp huff, a sound somewhere between amusement and irritation, escaped his lips. "You're not at the academy anymore. No one's going to hand you the answers."

"I'm aware of that, but I can't just waltz into the Guard post. I'd never make it past the door!"

"Then don't use the door."

Everna shook her head. "Are you suggesting I break into the post? Are you trying to get me killed?!"

She could not risk it, no matter how valuable that missing information might be. If the Courts saw reason to believe she was interfering, they'd hang her without hesitation and Windmore would leap at the chance to twist the facts. Wil may as well hang her himself.

Wil turned to face her, his head cocked. "You're already wearing the noose. If you want out of this mess alive, you’ll have to break a few laws."

"The end does not justify the means." Not when those means might mean she never saw the end justified.

"Tell that to the ones who put you in this position."

"I'd be no better than them."

He made a sound at the back of his throat. "Look, sweetheart, you won't get far clinging to moral superiority. You thinking you're a better person than they are won't stop the hangman from pulling the lever."

"But—"

"Rules only work on those who follow them," he continued, a sharpened edge to his voice. "The ones who framed you don't care about the laws unless they stand to benefit from them. You won't get out of this by playing by the rules."

"That's not the issue," she snapped. "I know the Courts! If I'm not careful about how I do this, even if I avoid the noose for treason, I may still find it around my neck for something else! I am not breaking into the Guard post!"

He gritted his teeth. “Someone wants you dead. Not defamed. Not imprisoned. Hanged. And the Courts are not on your side."

"All the more reason not to be stupid!" she argued. "If you'd just wait until morning, I could—"

"Gods leave me. No wonder the Inquisitor had no faith in you," he said. "This isn't up for discussion. You're going to get your ass into that post before I lose my patience, or I'm going to assume you're trying to keep me out."

"Why do I have to go with you? If you're that set about going in, why can't you do it alone?"

"Because now I don't trust that you're not up to something," he said. "There might be information in there that could end this case in the morning and, yet, you seem to want nothing to do with it."

She released a slow, deliberate breath. "Fine. If this goes horribly wrong, it's entirely your fault. How do you propose we get inside?"

Aside from the barracks, the Guard post was the most defended position in the city. He might have the means to enter undetected, but she hadn't exaggerated; she'd never make it past the door. There was usually one member of the Guard on either side.

"I have my ways."

Before she could ask how, he seized her by the hand.

A sudden weightlessness took hold of her and with it came a darkness so deep she'd thought a gaping void had swallowed her whole. Though she could no longer feel the chill of winter or the ground beneath her feet, she felt the weight of something bearing down upon her — an invisible force pushing against her from all sides.

As quickly as it vanished, the world snapped into sharp focus. Gone was the darkened street and starlit sky, replaced with stone floors and a wooden ceiling. Rather than burning oak, the scent of dust and old paper invaded her nose.

Then came the vertigo. Everna’s head spun. Her heart switched places with her stomach. The weightlessness returned, only this time, she crashed into an ungraceful heap on the floor, her head cradled in her hands as the ground careened beneath her.

It took several moments (which felt like an eternity) before she could lift her head without feeling woozy. When she did, she found not the wall, but a pair of green eye staring back at her. They were the color of the forests in spring, a deep but vibrant shade of emerald.

It was oddly soothing.

"You handled that better than I expected," Wil said, a half smile tugging at his lips. "You didn't even throw up."

"Don't be too sure about that.” She swallowed, tasting bile in the back of her throat. "What did you do?"

"Planetrace."

Everna closed her eyes as another bout of dizziness washed over her. "Never do that again."

"Hey," he said, tapping her cheek, "eyes open. Trust me, closing your eyes makes it worse."

Against her better judgment, she forced her eyes open once more. This time, a tousled mop of dark brown waves greeted her. Wil sat turned to the door, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

A few seconds later, he relaxed.

When the room finally ceased spinning, she released a shuddering breath and turned to observe her new surroundings. Wooden shelves stuffed with boxes overflowing with papers spanned the far wall. A small, rickety table dominated the corner to her left, its surface cluttered with old maps, worn posters, and tattered recruitment fliers. Beyond a couple of dusty crates in the adjacent corner, there was nothing else of note.

They were inside the post.

"This looks like a junk room," Wil said. "Damn. They must've moved the rooms around. Last time I was here, this was the archives."

"I think we went far enough," Everna grumbled.

She climbed to her feet, slow and unsteady. Using the wall as leverage, she forced her unwilling legs to extend, her knees still weak. It was another several moments before she took a tentative step forward.

"I don't suppose you know where they moved the records to?" he asked.

When he turned to face her, she paused. His face held the hallmarks of mixed heritage; the slight upward tread to the corners of his eyes, his high cheekbones, and his angular jaw spoke of elvish blood, but the scruff that covered the bottom half of his face suggested he had at least one human parent.

Though not unwelcome in Inverness, as the kingdom's first queen was allegedly one herself, Everna had never seen a half-elf before. It was a deadly combination in some parts, she'd heard, and for that reason, most texts suggested they avoided civilizations. Those texts also claimed the difference between an elf and a half-elf wasn't always apparent.

If not for the beard, she'd have thought he was an elf.

"You done staring, or should I show you my good side?"

"Says the man who spent an entire night staring at me," she said. "I wasn't staring, either. I'm just trying to keep my dinner in my stomach."

Wil snorted. "If you insist. I suppose you didn't hear the question then?"

Everna shook her head and regretted it immediately. "No, I don't know where the Guard keeps the records."

"Guess we're doing this the hard way then.” He pulled a ring from his finger, a plain and unassuming silver band. "Don't use that unless I tell you to. Stay behind me and try to walk more quietly, will you? You're about as graceful as an orc."

Everna snatched the ring from his hand and slipped it onto her finger, surprised to find it fit. "Is that elvish humor or are you being an ass?"

"Both."

Meeting

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