hawk & sable

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN,

HAWK & SABLE | TWENTY-SEVEN

   THE CELL DOOR clicked open, just as she'd expected it to. She pulled out the key, pocketed it, and walked in.

The boy within, shackled with iron chains, looked up. A familiar face, a foreign stare. She ignored the way they bored holes into her cheeks. I apologise for what I am about to do. If she believed in gods, like Myrina, she'd be praying to them right now.

"You're late."

She replied, "You try sneaking through a house full of half a hundred wiccai." It had been easy enough to get here, truthfully. She'd just wanted to postpone the inevitable. No one guarded the cells themselves, because only a fool would attempt an escape. Their goal was to keep people out. They never looked within for the signs of rotting, of betrayal and liars.

They were Meliquean carnations planted among a sea of Saian plum blossoms. Sometimes, a bit of pruning was necessary to keep the others healthy. Today, she was the gardener with the iron shears.

Her and this boy, they breathed treason by existing.

She said, "If you stay quiet enough, you could hear the cicadas chirping." It was one of the things printed in her brain from those years there. She hated it.

He looked confused. "I think we've already established both of our identities, but alright. And in the winters, the howling of ghosts in ancient woods."

She gave a brash nod. One last confirmation. This brilliant, handsome boy is a liar and a traitor.

Just like me.

"You know," he grinned, as if a silly thought had just crossed his mind. "I always liked you most out of all of them." Them. His never-ending rotating door of lovers. She'd never minded them. It was just pour le plaisir. For pleasure. But that was Epimurean.

"You strike warmth into my heart. Diego, isn't it? Were you named after Diego Contreras?" Even now, saying the name made her shake ever so slightly. She cursed her weakness as she placed down the lantern she held on the cold, stone ground.

"Aye." He jiggled his chains. "You going to help me get these off?"

"Be patient. And be quiet," she commanded. "These are good locks, and the keys are kept under guard."

That was not true, of course. She had no intention in letting him free. If she let him live, he'd break. And too many secrets would exit the confines of their minds. And she knew what he would have planned for the questioning. Too risky. She wouldn't have another way to prevent it. She had to do this.

He continued talking, though his voice was quieter now. "Nahuan, Hangbo and I... we always plotted how we could get into the inner circles. We never thought we'd already have someone there."

She committed those names to memory. "My position was so important no one was told," she lied. She'd always been good at that. She'd been lying her entire life. "I assume you know not a word of this may leave your mouth."

"You're not Cuckoo, are you? You're Falcon. So why are you here in Sai?"

She was Falcon before she had become Wolf. She'd changed and adapted to survive in this cruel, cruel world, but her past would eventually catch up. Any day she might wake up and find herself an enemy instead of an ally. She'd already been able to lie and stay longer than she'd ever expected to.

"Saian will fall like a deck of cards." That was pure hate in his voice. She fought the urge to shiver. They were both Saians by blood. Sai had its flaws, but how did someone hate the country their ancestors came from so much?

She settled for a quiet, "Perhaps," before reaching for the knife at her side.

He frowned. "What are you—"

Her aim was true. It always was. Dominic had been the one to help her improve with knives until she never missed anymore. They never questioned why she had gone to them knowing how to kill.

It lodged itself in its heart. She watched, silent, brooding, as life drained out of his eyes. As his mouth widened into an "o" in surprise and stayed that way.

She tried to search for regret and remorse in her heart. She truly did. But she found nothing but the hollowness that had been a constant companion for the past few years. She shut her eyes and murmured, "My condolences. But it had to be done."

He didn't hear her. He was already dead.

She reached forward. Pulled out the knife, watched the blood gush out. Sucked in a breath, placed the knife on the ground beside his fresh, bleeding corpse. The blade was Meliquean steel. One of the few she'd taken with her. Her friends would come upon this gory scene tomorrow and wonder what it means that a Meliquean killed one of their spies instead of rescuing him. They would waste time speculating upon a rift in their enemy's ranks, a turbulence within the Meliquean government. They'd ask her for her opinion. They would not suspect her of this crime.

She was an excellent liar, after all. What was it Cirinique Diao always called herself? A beautiful liar. Someday her crimes would catch up to her. Someday, she'll face the damning consequences of her selfishness.

But not today.

Rhys slipped out of the prison as quietly as she had gone in. Let the howling wind shield her soundless steps as she returned to her room.

Nobody needed to know.