Border towns were a cesspool of corruption, and Pendel was no different. Behind its well-tended gardens and neatly paved streets lurked a darkness that was not at all misplaced. Those old enough to remember the days before Arden Ashburn assumed his position wisely held their silence. They buried the town’s darkened history with half-truths and thin lines, the younger generations blissfully ignorant of the atrocities committed.

The older generations said nothing of the destitution and depravity, of the bloodshed and disease, that once choked the streets. Before Arden, the people of Pendel were not simple, unassuming folk; they were criminals - thieves and murderers and cheats and liars - unsavory in every sense of the word. No one was safe from Mikha’s gaze or the extent of his reach. The Guard feared him. The capital abandoned them, wrote them off as a lost cause, and left them for dead.

When the dust settled, the townspeople, at least those who survived, swore to never speak of their past. They set aside their weapons, burned their bridges - then burned the ashes. False identities and carefully woven lies washed the blood from their hands. Their children, and their children’s children, were never to know the truth.

Evelina played her part, spinning tales of a sleepy town on the verge of financial collapse before Arden swept in and took them all under his wing. It wasn’t a complete lie; Mikha and his men hoarded their riches while the rest of them wasted away in the streets. Arden had come in, much like a storybook hero, spouting pretty words of nobility and promises to save them all from the darkness that smothered their miserable existence.

The first time Arden proclaimed his desire to see Mikha fall, back when they were scraggly children sweeping the streets for scraps like a pair of starved rats, she laughed in his face. She laughed until her cheeks ached and tears blurred her vision. Arden was a fool, a complete and utter fool. Pendel couldn’t be saved. Mikha couldn’t be killed.

Ten years later, he cleaved Mikha’s head from his shoulders and sent Shroud running for their lives.

For the first time in nearly fifty years, Pendel knew peace. Children no longer feared for the day when men in black cloaks arrived at their doors to whisk them away. Houses became homes, businesses were honest once again. The Guard, headed by the newly knighted Cane Swiftbrook, established order. Five years later, Pendel held its first election, and Arden began his first term as mayor.

With his death, three decades of relative peace shattered in an instant. The younger generations voiced their outrage (though few believed her precious daughter responsible - she made certain of that), but the elders fell into stunned silence. Fear seized the town in a vice grip, the implications of Arden’s murder loud and clear.

Pendel’s dark past reared its disgusting head. Arden’s demise presented Shroud with an opportunity to retake their old stronghold. Somehow, her daughter ended up at the heart of it.

And here she was, drinking tea on Pala Ashburn’s balcony.

“You truly think Shroud’s behind this?”

Arden’s wife was not well. Dark circles, further accented by the deep umber of her skin, hung beneath her eyes. Her hair was a bird’s nest, her frizzy coils, streaked through with gray, sticking out at odd angles. She aged ten winters in two weeks, the lines of her face sharper and more pronounced than ever. Her teacup shook slightly in her hands as she raised it to her lips.

“With Windmore involved? After what happened twenty years ago? It can’t be anyone else,” Evelina hissed. She slammed her fist down on the wrought-iron patio table, the dishware rattling. “Damn it all, I knew I should’ve gutted the bastard, but no. Arden and Ronan just had to insist otherwise.”

“You gave up killing,” Pala said, taking a delicate sip from her cup. “We all did. More than that, it would blow your cover and you can’t afford that. Windmore hasn’t figured out who you are and if he does, and the capital finds out —“

“I’d be dead, but at least Arden would still be alive.”

Pala pressed her lips into a thin line as she set her tea aside and folded her hands in her lap, her thumb twisting the thick silver band on her right pinky. To anyone else, she might have appeared nervous or unsettled, but Evelina knew better. The last time Pala Ashburn wore that ring, five men were found dead.

That was ten years ago, after the third failed attempt on Arden’s life. Three days later, one of his political rivals was discovered hanging from a tree in the forest, a crate’s worth of dirty secrets at his feet. No one spoke of the incident. The Guard labeled it a suicide, citing family tensions and financial struggles. To those who knew, however, the message rang clear.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Pala sighed. “Windmore is neither clever nor skilled enough to pull off an assassination. He was a pawn, albeit a useful one, I’m sure.”

“Pawn or not,” Evelina said, “I’m figuring this out, for both their sakes.”

“No, Evelina. This is not your fight.”

Rage shot through her. Evelina slammed her hand onto the table once more. Her cup clattered to the floor, bursting into a shower of glass and tea. “Not my fight? My brother’s dead and my daughter was almost murdered!”

Pala, long having since grown accustomed to her outbursts, didn’t flinch. She merely picked up her own cup and set it on the smaller side table behind her. Evelina huffed. She must be losing her touch.

“They thrust the torch into your daughter’s hands,” Pala clipped. “If Shroud really is behind this, as you suspect, the best thing you can do for her is to stay in the shadows.”

Evelina sucked in a breath, infuriated by the audacity of her statement, but before she could voice her disapproval, Pala continued, “Everna already has a target on her back. She doesn’t need you making matters worse for her, especially now that Shadowguard is involved.”

Shadowguard.

Evelina scowled. The self-proclaimed band of do-gooders and nosy want-to-bes wasn’t good for anything but ignoring problems. They branded themselves as protectors of the region, but when they were needed most, they slunk into the shadows and watched as the world crumbled around them. Only when it posed an immediate threat to them, did they finally decide to crawl out of their hole.

Where were the region’s oh-so-gallant protectors when Shroud took over Pendel and turned her home into a festering pool of crime? Where were they when children were snatched off the streets, sold off like objects, whored out, or turned into bloodthirsty killers? Where were they when people died by the hundreds from disease and starvation?

“Why her?” Pala asked after a heavy silence.

“That’s the golden question, isn’t it?” Evelina said, a dry smile playing at her lips. “There’s nothing special about her.”

“You’re not paying enough attention or choosing to ignore it,” Pala sighed. “If Shroud still ruled these streets, they’d have snatched her up a heartbeat. Shadowguard seems to think the same. I’ve gotten reports of their agent keeping tabs on her.”

“I’m aware,” Evelina spat. “I caught the rat slinking around the tavern a few days ago. He left a letter for my daughter. Asked her to meet at the west gate, alone.”

A ghost of a smile touched her face. “Everna gets a letter from a man and you’re sour about it? And here I thought you wanted her to marry.”

“Marry a man, yes. Not some shadow skulking scoundrel. She’s too pure for that.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Ronan is not a scoundrel. A lumbering idiot, perhaps, but not a scoundrel,” Evelina said, nothing but fondness in her voice.

“I was talking about you.”

“Oh, piss off,” Evelina scoffed. “Everna is nothing like me, thank the gods. She’s not like any of us, and I intend to keep it that way.”

“And you and I both know the world, nor Shroud, cares about your intentions.”

Silence stretched between them. As Pala retreated into herself, her eyes distant with old memories, Evelina turned to observe the town. Late-night meetings were nothing unusual for her; while the town slept, she worked. But times had changed. She'd traded her daggers for information and her leathers for an apron and a disarming smile.

Motherhood may have pulled her from the front lines, but it hadn't pulled her from the fight entirely. Shroud no longer had Pendel within their grasp, but their influence remained. There was always someone looking to stir up trouble, someone needing a swift reminder that the days of lawless revelry were a thing of the past. She and Pala assured their attempts never came to fruition; Shroud was dealt with and disposed of before the Guard caught wind and it fell into the hands of the law.

The Courts were as useless as Shadowguard.

And she wasn't much better, it seemed.

A bitter taste filled her mouth as that thought drifted through her mind. Arden died and her beloved daughter took the fall for it, taking them all by surprise. Pala hadn't seen it coming. Sir Swiftbrook was none the wiser. She and Ronan hadn't had an inkling of a suspicion that something was amiss.

Someone had plotted and conducted a successful assassination without even a whisper of a rumor preceding it. Only Shroud — not a handful of loyal stragglers acting in their name — had the influence to silence the information networks so thoroughly. It was not a good omen.

Damn it all. Evelina never should've left that night. Or, perhaps, she should've forced Ronan to stay with Everna, but her infuriatingly overprotective husband refused to let her deal with the matter in Trenbrook alone. Arden insisted she'd be fine, that he'd look after Everna.

She should've known. There was no reason for Shroud to be in Trenbrook; it was nothing but crop gardens and livestock pens. It was hardly larger than Pendel's southern outskirts. Yet, Ettie swore she'd spotted Shroud's vermin snooping about and Evelina couldn't ignore it. They were too close to Pendel for her liking.

"Did she respond?" Pala asked suddenly. "To the letter, I mean."

Evelina scoffed. "Really, Pala? You think my daughter's that stupid?"

"Stupid, no. Curious, abundantly so. Too much for her own good, I fear."

Evelina waved her off. "I raised her better than that. Besides, she wouldn't have made it out of the house. Ronan knew to keep an eye out. She'd never make it past the door."

Just as she reached for her spilled tea, the balcony door flew open. A young man with a shock of red hair draped in the Guard's uniform stumbled through, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were wide and full of terror, his hands trembling.

"Miss Pala!" he cried between breaths. "The Guard... Windmore... He..."

"Out with it, Gillan," Pala snapped, her previous exhaustion replaced with an air of authority.

Evelina's lips quirked. There was the Pala Ashburn she knew. No bullshit — straight to the point.

"Sir Swiftbrook's dead! Captain Windmore... he's blaming Everna!"

Before Evelina could utter a sound, Pala seized her by the sleeve, her grip like iron. Without taking her eyes off Gillan, she asked, "Why her?"

Gillan swallowed again, his gaze flickering between the two of them. A heavy, sickening weight lodged itself deep in Evelina's chest.

Don't say it, she thought. Tell me she didn't—

"Everna, uh.... Well, she broke into the Guard post—"

Evelina was on her feet and halfway over the balcony railing, spilling a string of curses so foul even the gods would cover their ears. Pala shot across the table. Dishware clattered to the floor, the table's legs screeching across the patio tiles as Pala snatched her by the collar of her dress and hauled her back into her chair. In the few seconds of silence that followed, Captain Windmore's voice carried through the night.

"Evelina, stand down. Now.” Pala’s voice dripped with an authority Evelina hadn't heard in years. "This is not the time for recklessness. Even you can't take on the Guard alone."

She could damn well try! Her daughter was down there, running for her life, and Pala wanted her to stay put? If that were Witt, she'd be tearing the town apart until she found Windmore and ended his miserable existence.

As if Pala could read her thoughts, she said, "You make one move and I will nail your hands to the table."

Though Evelina knew it was an empty threat, she swallowed her reservations and remained seated.

It's Pala, she reminded herself. Pala wouldn't endanger Everna. If she wasn't rushing into the streets to stop Windmore's rampage, there must be a reason.

Once Pala was sure she wouldn't bolt the second she had a chance, she turned to Gillan once more. "I need to know what happened. Everything."

As he launched into a hurried retelling of what transpired, Evelina's anger grew. Gillan knew little beyond what took place in the few moments before the chase began, but he knew enough. Windmore dared point a blade at her daughter.

Her daughter, who, if not for that damned Shadowguard rat, wouldn't have been in the post.

"Are you absolutely certain Everna is innocent?"

Evelina threw Pala a withering glare.

"I know she is," Gillan affirmed. "Windmore had blood on him when he summoned the Guard. He tried to cover it, but I saw it on his tunic. I followed to see what was going on...." He paused, swallowing once more, then continued, "Miss Pala, I don't think it's just Windmore. I think some of the Guard might be in on it. The ones with him... they were the same ones that were in the room when he supposedly found her sword."

Evelina cursed.

Pala rose from her seat. "Return to your post. If you can get ahold of Everna before the others, bring her here. If she's caught, break her out."

"That won't be possible," Gillan said. "Windmore. He's called for no quarter for both of them. It's kill on sight."

Evelina released a sharp breath. Damn him! And damn Pala!

"Then I suppose it's time to test a theory we have."

Pala reached into the pocket of her coat and produced a pin of black metal — a snake coiled around a crown of rose thorns. It shone red beneath the light cast by the torches set into the exterior wall, and Evelina tasted bile. She'd hoped she'd never have to see that pin again.

Pala pressed the pin into Gillan's hand, a wicked smile on her lips. "Tell him to call off the chase. That it's an order from Shroud."

Though confused, Gillan snatched the pin and disappeared through the doors.

"You kept that?!"

"I kept many things," Pala said. "Some even Arden didn't know of. You never know when it might be useful."

Evelina pursed her lips. "Do you think that will stop him?"

"That's what I intend to find out," she said. "If Windmore yields, then we know for certain Shroud is pulling the strings. Then we can begin countering them."

"You have a plan," Evelina said. She should've known. Pala was nothing but prepared; she had plans for when plans went awry and contingencies for contingencies.

"I do, and it requires you keeping your temper in check. Let Windmore dig his own grave," she said. "I know who Everna is with — and no, I will not tell you, as I promised to keep silent. Windmore's in for a nasty surprise if he touches him."

"Oh, I have my suspicions," Evelina spat. "All the more reason I don't like this."

"Your preferences aren't a consideration," Pala reminded her. "Let him handle Everna. In the meantime, I want a list of every member of the Guard that may be involved, and I want it in my hands before the Harvest Festival."

Evelina chuckled. "You're going to expose them all in front of the town."

"Oh, no," Pala said, a wry smile turning her lips. "The Courts and the Guard no longer have my trust, and because of that, they will not have any authority in my town. If all goes well, the Harvest Festival will be Windmore's execution."

"Is that legal?" Evelina asked, though she knew Pala couldn't care less.

"You didn't think I cut a deal with the Courts and let them have total control, did you? They can't argue with an agreement signed by the Crown."

"And what of my daughter? Surely you don't expect me to abandon her."

"I know you won't, but she can't stay in the town any longer. It's far too dangerous for her, even with us here. Let Shadowguard watch her for now. They have more resources at their disposal and places they can keep her that even Shroud doesn't know of. If they are indeed behind this, you, of all people, should know we've only scratched the surface."

If that, Evelina thought. Shroud's plans were both thorough and complex — tangled messes that only made sense once they finished. Everna could be a red herring. Windmore could be a distraction. They wouldn't know until they achieved their goal, and the pieces came together at the last second. By then, it would be too late.

Yet, convoluted as their plans were, Shroud's obsession with perfection left them vulnerable. Their operations hinged on finer details, with everything transpiring exactly as outlined. They trained their agents to the pinnacle of efficiency: quick, precise, and obedient. They didn't allow error, and mistakes came with dire consequences.

Where they excelled, however, was manipulating laws in their favor. Everna's execution would force the Courts to close the investigation and force the capital's attention elsewhere. With them no longer an issue, Shroud would be free to operate without scrutiny. This would not be the first time they used such a tactic.

But this time, it failed. Shroud was not what it once was, and they no longer held the power and resources necessary to see it through. Not within Pendel, and not within the kingdom. Arden's assassination succeeded, but they failed to execute Everna. Both the capital and Shadowguard now had their sights set on Pendel.

If Shroud, or whoever was responsible, wanted the capital's attention elsewhere, then Evelina would have to do everything in her power to ensure it didn't stray.

Her son was long overdue for a visit, after all.

Shroud

0 Comments