Gemma forced herself to go through the motions of dressing for the occasion: tight black pants, knee-high black leather boots, a black silk shirt and a red velvet vest that came down over her hips with the queen’s mark embroidered on one breast and the Guild’s shadowed ring on the other. Gemma loved the crest of the Guild and what it represented—a gold ring, the symbol of Yigrisian commerce, caught in a looming shadow. The darkness of Under always protected the coin.
She washed the redness of her grief away from her face and darkened her lids the way Melnora had taught her. “It gives you more age, girl, more authority,” she’d said, and Gemma was grateful for that lesson—and every lesson—just now. She put silver rings in her ears and slid a large gold ring inset with an opal onto her right pointer finger. She ran trembling fingers through her hair, though it did little to calm its wayward nature. Then she slid her knives into the sheathes at her wrists, ankles and waist.
There was a knock on her door, the comforting sound of a huge hand pounding as gently as it could. The owner of that knock was a man of restraint and kindness, and Gemma’s heart broke for him and what he must be going through.
“Come in, Fin.”
The Balklander entered, his beady eyes bloodshot. “Need an escort, Gem?” he grunted, running a gray hand over his bald head.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he gripped her in a bear hug, his back quaking with sobs. If anyone alive had loved Melnora more than Gemma, it was Fin. He’d been the Queen of Under’s unlikely lover for more than twenty years.
“You don’t have to go, Fin. You know what I have to say. If you want to stay with her …”
“I can’t watch her die, Gem. She’s gone now, and she ain’t coming back. She’d want me to help you do this thing that needs doing.”
Gemma looked up into his oddly unwrinkled face. Sometimes it was easy to see why the Balklanders were said to have been bred from sharks, with their pointed teeth and smooth ashen skin, but looking up into Fin’s eyes, Gemma could feel his heart breaking. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thanks, Fin.”
She glanced around, surveying her room. When she returned, she would be a different person. The old Gemma would never walk through these doors again. She made her way to the door, gesturing for the old Balklander to walk out before her. “I have to go say goodbye.”
In Melnora’s room, Lian stood to leave when she saw them enter, but Gemma motioned her back to her chair. Fin stood by the door, his eyes hooded. The shadows under his eyes and his unwillingness to stay and watch her final moments told Gemma that he’d already said whatever he needed to say to Melnora.
Gemma was struck by how lifeless Melnora already seemed. Her beautiful mahogany skin was ashen, her black hair—laced with silver—had lost all its luster. Her breathing rattled, like rocks tumbling in her chest. Gemma bit her lip to keep from crying.
She bent over and whispered in her benefactor’s ear. “I’ve got to go keep your folks in line, now. Thank you … for everything …” A slow sob ripped its way out of her. “I love you, Mother.” The words were ragged and clumsy—and Gemma cursed herself for never having said them before. “I’ll take care of things, here. Sleep well, and give Aegos the Void.”
CHAPTER FOUR
GUILDHALL
Gemma did her best to remember to breathe. The seats had filled up, and still members flooded through the great doorways that led to the spoked half wheel of the underground amphitheater. The room was divided into five sections—representatives from the thieves, the pirates, the sex workers, the assassins and the mercenaries filled the seats, while the urchins were crammed together like rats on the floor just below where she stood, jostling and jarring one another to secure the best view.
She could tell which of the urchins had already distinguished themselves as leaders. A tall, slender boy of about twelve with a shock of ragged black hair was given a wide berth. So was Katya, a younger girl with long brown hair marked by a strand of pure white near her temple. Gemma winked at the dirty-faced girl, who grinned broadly, then turned to punch a bigger boy who had bumped her in the shoulder. He twisted around, snarling—until he saw Katya’s face. He bobbed his head in apology and scooted away.
Gemma had made a special effort to get to know the girl, and she found that Katya was light-fingered, charismatic and quick-thinking. Gemma believed that one day she could stand on the dais in Gemma’s place should Gemma fail to produce an heir of her own.
Fin stepped out from the shadows. “All right, you animals!” he bellowed. “Gemma’s got the floor, now. Give her your prickling respect.” He flashed pointed teeth in her direction, despite the hollowness in his eyes.
Immediately, a hush fell over the crowd. Gemma estimated that as many as six hundred had crammed into Guildhall—a full quarter of the membership. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward, holding before her the enormous tome that contained the Guild’s bylaws. “You know what it says here.” She paused, drawing in a deep breath. “Melnora is dying. She was stabbed three hours ago.”
Of course, this was complete horseshit—and she looked around to see if anyone seemed to know she was laying a false trail. She forced herself to meet the eyes of the leaders: Riquin, the oddly bearded head of the pirates; Yimur, ironically flat-chested mistress of whores; Gellen, straight-arrow captain of the sellswords; Dalia, one-eyed leader of thieves; and Devery, the cold-as-ice master assassin. Her stomach flipped when she saw him. He was supposed to be on Far Coast on assignment for Melnora. These leaders had reported directly to Melnora, and now they would come to Gemma for favors, coin, guidance and leadership. Though the youngest was a handful of years older than Gemma and some were Melnora’s age, Gemma would be their mother.
Every thief in Yigris belongs to me now.
She steeled herself, meeting the master assassin’s cold, calculating eyes and holding his gaze longer than any other’s. She wanted to let the Guild believe that even if he and his ilk were responsible for the strange attacks on Melnora and Abram, that she was not afraid of him. Devery glanced away first, his pale face coloring slightly.
“I pray to Aegos we will meet back here in a few days and I will tell you the queen lives. But until then”—she thrust the book forward—“Melnora has named me heir in the absence of a true child of her blood and bone.”
Gemma nodded to Fin to take the book, and she drew the knife at her waist. Holding her hand up, she slid the blade along her palm, drawing a shallow line of crimson. “I bleed for the Shadow Guild. I lay my life down for the well-being of my brothers and sisters. I accept the weight of this duty upon my shoulders. Anyone who does not accept my leadership should draw blades against me now.” She stood back, waiting to see if they would come.
Slowly, she realized no one rose from their seats. She began to breathe easier as she stared out at the sea of faces. Blood dripped from her hand onto the wooden dais, leaving her stain next to the stains of those who’d come before her and naming her Queen of Under.
“Above suffers today, too, and I do not know what the goddess has planned for Yigris. But I will do whatever it takes to see that our way of life is not altered. I will not let their poison contaminate our Under. You have the promise of your queen.”
As quickly as the meeting had begun, it ended, and Guild members spilled out into the tunnels. Fin clapped her on the shoulder as she wrapped her hand in a clean cloth. “You did good, Gem,” he said, his big hand ruffling her hair the way it had when she was a kid.
Gemma nodded. Melnora’s greatest fear had been that someone would use her passing to undermine the Guild, and though she should have been elated that no one had challenged her, Gemma felt it hard to breathe through her guilt. Her heart hurt for Melnora and Fin, and Gemma would have given up all the power in the world to have her queen back. Sighing, she looked up and saw Devery pushing his way through the crowd.
Fin thrust his chin toward the master assassin. “You want me to keep him away?”