Twin brothers Frei and Qionne are separated by a cursed mirror. The younger is forced to shoulder the burden of the throne, while the older must learn to have courage and return to his world. In their wake is an empire at the brink of war, and a dar...
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Qionne still felt the sharp caress of the blade that tried to kill him.
He could still smell the earthy scent of Almira's hair as she moved his body sideways against the tabletop. He could still remember how she used herself as a shield, how she spun like a dancer on the bench as her dagger clashed with the assailant's own. Everything happened so fast, that if not for the elvish part of him, he would've thought that it was all an apparition.
But it wasn't Almira's swift defense, nor was it the realization that he did not recognize danger like he often did, that had him frozen in place. What left him disoriented was that the man who attacked him knew who he was.
And now the rest of the Order would know.
"Robin!" He heard Talisa call from the bar island. She jumped over tables and knocked over food as she charged.
"Protect Robin!" Barrister yelled, his heavy footsteps pounding on the floor.
The prince heard swords unsheathed, bows aimed and daggers drawn. He heard the friction of cloth and hair as his allies pulled on their hoods. He heard the creaking floors surrounding him on all sides. He could also hear metal gears and springs, the rusty click of loaded guns, and the hum of charging magia. He could smell the metallic tang of soot and ash, like a bonfire that was put out by a bucket of blood. Gun powder.
"Duv'dukar va ra svar, parvat'kaharan ta ivka!"
Lay a finger on him, and I will kill you!
Almira's soft yet rough accent rang over the tavern. It brought Qionne out of his disoriented state as he sat up and finally saw the face of his attacker.
Or the lack thereof.
"A Karavani?" the man spoke. "From your complexion, I almost thought you were an Enoxi. But there is no question about those eyes. You have the slave's curse."
His face was hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. But the smile that peaked underneath showed how impressed he was of the young woman.
The man was not alone, as he took note of the other hooded figures behind him. They were a mere ten people compared to the dozens of thieves behind his back. But their individual presence held an air of danger that suffocated the room. Their eyes were hidden, their garments too layered and heavy for a warm, underground hideout. If not for the dark leather material of their clothes, the metal studs on the cuffs of their jackets and boots, or the advanced-looking firearms in their hands, anyone would have thought they were members of the Order.
"How was an outsider able to find the Lodge?!" Barrister asked, his deep, booming voice directed at both his allies and the assassin.
"How indeed?" The man echoed, smile broadening to reveal rows of teeth that were thin and sharp as toothpicks.
