The Cursed Deal ✓

Chapter 56

Faine hadn't just taken notes on the members of Silver Willow, their meetings, their members, or important secrets. This was all the information Zebulon was looking for, and more, but in a small section of her mind—too dangerous to write on paper—was another important piece to the complicated mess of what separated these two guilds from each other.

Rising Eternity was younger. Therefore, less established. What they did to prepare for missions followed a chain that every participant latched onto from the moment it was announced to the day the event arrived and was completed. No setbacks, no distractions, get the job done. That was how it went for ninety-nine years and Faine soaked into that way of life believing there was nothing else.

Her routine for the night before was to lay everything out on her bed—armor, weapons, poisons, potions—and memorize their use at the exact moment she'd need them. Some were 'just in case' like the poisons for possible capture, the armor was a definite use, and the weapons she hid in the closed compartments of her boots or on the thigh holster were most likely there to see some experience. And, for Faine's sake, remind her that she still had a functional fashion sense.

Bred after so many years of waiting on her toes for the next day to arrive, Faine was entirely unaware that Celestia would knock on the door to her inn room in Isflean and tell her they had one tradition at Silver Willow besides believing every other beast was family.

The tradition was optional, attend a show at Isflean's finest theater with other members of Silver Willow. They'd sit in a private booth together, as one, and share an experience that wasn't stealing, spying, or killing. And they weren't allowed to talk about that, either. The only way to reconnect with the mortal side of their beings without admitting they had one at all.

Faine couldn't remember the exact date to the last time she attended a show at the theater, but the last time she did, they were interrupted by a man's cry for help as he was being robbed, then strangled to hide any bit of evidence. Kaspar had slit the throat of the attacker, then nearly died himself when the so-called victim tried to rob them instead. A tag-team that worked as liars and killers.

She snapped his neck at the first sight of a wrong movement.

Attending a show with Silver Willow would be different and treacherous. Putting her face out there for the world to see, surrounded by strangers...would Zebulon be there? No, he hardly attended shows and only when there was a reason to celebrate. For every birthday Faine had, he asked if she wished to attend a show, but always turned him down with the knowledge they'd be there alone in his private booth.

Zebulon's intentions were never clear and the longer he went on believing their friendship was true, the more she hated every fraction of his being.

Dress to impress was all Celestia left her with before she shut the door again. Whether or not that was the case, Faine pulled out the one gown she had yet to wear. Ever. Nothing in Rising Eternity gave her the chance, but now she had the slightest bit of free rein...

The gown was simple. Black all the way up, black all the way down. The soft, blossomed straps drooped off her shoulder and wrapped neatly around her arms, and the fitting skirt swayed to the floor. The slit was unnoticeable until she walked or made it known. With her hair, she pulled it into a bun—held together with sticks—and swept two clumps of silver hair in front of her horns to swim back and wrap into the bun itself.

Effectively noticeable, but not overdoing it. One of the few instances Faine could say that was true.

But the gown or the hairstyle didn't fall into the category of her favorite part of the ensemble. It was the dragon necklace resting neatly against her chest, matching a set of earrings she'd found days ago at a jewelry store in Isflean. Ametrine said they were beautiful, the claws wrapped around the scaled eggs resembled the motherhood of such large beasts.