Rhea wants nothing more than to kill her father. But not just because he's any run-of-the-mill scumbag. No, he's a god. And he's the one who cursed her with being a goldblood -- half human, half godling. Good for her, she's willing to do anything to...
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BELINDA ALREADY HAS MY CLOTHES PACKED AND READY IN A SMALL SATCHEL WHEN I ENTER HER ROOM.
"There are no daggers, only poisons," Belinda says, opening the bag and showing me the inseam of a black apron. "There are five vials. The red vial is for if you need to be quick. But the black vials are slow but effective and undetectable. One every two or three days will be enough."
I nod. If I use the poison in the black vials — most likely some blend of cassava root — I will be on assignment for about two weeks. It will be the longest I've ever been away from the house.
With that length of time, I refuse to go without a dagger. That would be like going naked.
I thank Belinda and shoulder the satchel, getting ready to leave.
She tugs my sleeve as I turn. "If you need anything," she mouths, her lips barely moving, "there is someone - someone I used to know who will probably be there. Her name is Rowena."
I give a nod, barely. Most likely a plant from the Mistress. Another one of her eyes and ears and wiling hands. To watch and restrain her prized falcon so that she would not run away.
I pause for a breath before I whisper, "Mel. Is she...?"
I don't know if I'm asking if she's dead or alive. Both are possible. Neither is good.
Belinda shakes her head.
She doesn't know.
I give Belinda one last look and leave. An odd, heavy feeling follows me when I close the door behind me. I shake it off. The affairs of this house are not my business for the next two weeks.
And if I complete this assignment well, they may never be my business again.
Before I leave the house, I stop in my room and pry open a floorboard beneath my bed. Two polished daggers and a dark, cloth bag tied at the top by a piece of twine. I take both daggers, slipping one into my thigh sheath, and the other into my boot.
I reach for the bag, my fingers hesitating around the twine. I tug gently, and it comes loose. The bag opens to reveal small, round gold coins. They gleam dully in the dark light of my room. There's no need to take it, I know.
But something makes me stuff it into my satchel anyway.
A cool breeze blows over the city when I finally step outside. It carries the stench of fish from the docks and rotten fruit from the markets. But at least I have escaped the stale smell of death and poison that always seems to pervade the Rozi house.
I do not look back. But I know if I had, I would've been able to see the window to my room. It looks no different from any of the other windows. Row after row of dusty glass squares, imprisoned by dark iron bars.
The walk to the Bellevue Mansion takes half a day. It sits on the far outskirts of the capital, pressed against the lower reaches of Tonto Pass. If I had taken a carriage, it would have only taken an hour or two, but I enjoy the walk.
