Down the river toward the palace, the day’s celebrations were dying down—no, not dying, shifting—to make way for the evening’s festivities. The music had softened, and the crowds along the docks and up the market stretch had thinned, migrating to the city’s various pubs and inns to continue toasting Rhy’s name.
“Come, sir,” said Ellis, holding the carriage door open for him. Instead of seats that faced each other, this carriage had two sets of benches both facing forward; two of the guards took the seat behind, and one went up to sit with the driver, while Ellis slid onto the front bench beside Kell and pulled the carriage door closed. “Let’s get you home.”
Kell’s chest ached at the thought of it. He had tried not to let himself think of home, of how badly he wanted to be there, not since the stone—and the grim task of its disposal—had fallen to him. Now all he wanted was to see Rhy, to embrace him one last time, and he was secretly glad of the chance.
He let out a shaky breath and sank back onto the bench as Ellis drew the carriage curtains.
“I’m sorry about this, sir,” he said, and Kell was about to ask what for when a hand clamped a cloth over his mouth, and his lungs filled with something bitter and sweet. He tried to wrench free, but armored gloves closed over his wrists and held him back against the bench, and within moments, everything went dark.
*
Lila sucked in a breath, unheard beneath the veil, as the guard let go of Fletcher’s shoulder and he fell forward, thudding in a lifeless mass against the worn floorboards of the shop.
The guard stood there, unfazed by the murder and seemingly oblivious to the fact he was now splattered with someone else’s blood. He surveyed the room, his gaze drifting past her, but through the slot in his helmet, Lila thought she saw an odd shimmer in his eyes. Something like magic. Satisfied that there was no one else to dispose of, the guard returned his blade to its sheath, turned on his heel, and left the shop. A dull bell followed him out, and a few moments later, Lila heard a carriage shudder to life and rumble away down the street.
Fletcher’s body lay sprawled on the floor of his shop, blood soaking through his wiry blond hair and staining the boards beneath his chest. His smug expression was gone, replaced by surprise, the emotion preserved by death like an insect in amber. His eyes were open and empty, but something pale had tumbled from his shirt pocket and was now caught between his body and the floor.
Something that looked very much like a white rook.
Lila looked around to make sure she was alone, then did away with the concealment spell. It was easy enough, undoing the magic, but letting go of the stone itself proved considerably more difficult; it took her a long moment, and when she finally managed to pull free and drop the talisman back into her pocket, the whole room tilted. A shudder passed through her, stealing warmth and something more. In the magic’s wake, she felt … empty. Lila was used to hunger, but the stone left her feeling starved in a bone-deep way. Hollow.
Bloody rock, she thought, tucking the toe of her boot under Fletcher’s dead shoulder and turning him over, his blank stare now directed up at the ceiling, and at her.
She knelt, careful to avoid the spreading red slick as she picked up the blood-flecked chess piece.
Lila swore with relief and straightened, weighing it appraisingly. At first glance, it looked rather ordinary, and yet, when she curled her fingers around the stone—or bone, or whatever it was carved out of—she could almost feel the difference between its energy and that of the London around her. It was subtle, and perhaps she was imagining it, but the rook felt like a draft in a warm room. Just cold enough to seem out of place.
She shrugged off the sensation and tucked the chess piece into her boot (she didn’t know how magic worked, but it didn’t seem a wise idea to keep the two talismans close together, not until they were needed, and she wasn’t touching the thieving little rock again unless she absolutely had to). She wiped Fletcher’s blood off on her pants.
All things considered, Lila was feeling rather accomplished. After all, she had the Black London stone and the White London token. Now all she needed was Kell.
Lila turned toward the door and hesitated. He’d told her to stay put, but as she looked down at Fletcher’s fresh corpse, she feared he’d walked into trouble of his own. She’d been in Red London only a day, but it didn’t seem like the place where royal guards went around slitting people’s throats. Maybe Kell would be fine. But if he wasn’t?