Break the Day (Nightstar Book 1)

Ain glared at the Orinovan chained up in front of him in the palace dungeons. He couldn’t believe assassins had just gotten inside the palace. What the sunder had security been doing? This shouldn’t have happened, and he’d already given an earful to the captain of the guard.

They hadn’t even managed to apprehend any of them aside from this one. The one that had stabbed him in his damned shoulder. The healing tonic Petre had given him had worked some of its magic already, but it was still hurting, and it would take a while to heal properly, which mean that his abilities were a little limited until then.

At least it was just one of his arms that was affected, though. Could be worse.

Then again, the healing tonic had helped with his drunken haze, as well, and while he wasn’t hungover thanks to it, he also remembered painfully well that he’d called Fenn his future husband. Ain sensed there was going to be a likely agonizing talk in his future about that, but right now there wasn’t time for it, and Ain was incredibly grateful.

“So you were sent here to kill me and Fenn?” Ain asked, scowling at the man. He usually didn’t put on an angry front for interrogations, no matter how much he wanted to because he hated torturing people. But this misborn had attempted to kill Fenn, and Ainreth would be damned if he let that fact go. Yes, the assassin hadn’t gotten anywhere close to attacking him, having struck up a conversation with the shadowforger in, presumably, an attempt to get him to go somewhere more private where the Orinovan would try to stab him to death.

Assassins. Ain had had his fair share of assassination attempts, but none at the blighted palace. Even though the other assassins had set the palace on fire as a distraction, it was still embarrassing that they’d managed to get away. Stupid, useless palace guards.

“I already said I will not tell you anything,” the assassin spat at him. Ain took a proper look at him, then, noting his black eye, the dried blood under his nose, and judging by how carefully he was breathing, he’d no doubt been hit in the chest as well. He was wearing a tunic, but Ain could still see a bruise peeking out from beneath it on his collarbone.

“Was that white-haired soundsmith here with you as well?” Ain asked, ignoring what the man had said. They always said they’d not tell him anything, but that usually didn’t last long once he started burning them.

This time, instead of denying anything, the man frowned at him, his one open eye full of confusion. “Soundsmith? What are you talking about?”

Ainreth folded his arms over his chest, scoffing. “Right, you don’t know about the soundsmith from Orinovo that tried to kill me a few months ago.”

The man frowned harder. “No, I don’t. We have no soundsmith priori in our ranks.”

Priori. Ain hated that term. They were az-ari, not priori. He wouldn’t care that much if the Orinovans didn’t always say it with so much contempt. As if their existence was somehow offensive to them. Then again, az-ari in Orinovo were actively oppressed, so that made sense. No wonder there were so many az-ari in Lys-Akkaria that had Orinovan roots, like Petre.

“I don’t believe you. You are protecting your fellow assassins, so why wouldn’t you deny the existence of this one?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Because I know of no soundsmith serving in our ranks. I have no idea what you are talking about. Though I am glad it is not only us trying to kill you.”

Now it was Ainreth’s turn to roll his eyes. The Orinovan was clearly trying to bait him into getting angry, likely with the ending goal to make Ain kill him before he revealed anything. Orinovan soldiers in higher positions were usually very fanatical, and Ain couldn’t imagine this mission being assigned to anyone who wasn’t a fanatic.

Who in their right mind would go to Kyr-Toryl to try to kill a shadowforger and a lightweaver? At least Ain had had his powers restricted to practically nonexistence by the night. Fenn though? Fenn was unstoppable in the dark.

“I’ll make you tell me,” Ain told him, raising his hand, bending the light around them. The place was dim, but there was still enough light coming in from the small window above that he could sear this Orinovan to death if he wanted to.

“Do your worst, priori vo.”

Ain sighed, moving his fingers, bringing forth a small, but incredibly intense beam of light, enough to scorch the Orinovan’s skin in an instant, even through his clothes. “Have it your way.”

With a twitch of his finger, Ain moved the ray of light, so it was pointing at the assassin’s shoulder. And then the man was screaming.

Ain was very happy that Fenn hadn’t seen any of what he’d had to put the assassin through for him to reveal what information they needed. He didn’t want him to think whatever he might after watching that. But he had managed to get answers, and that was the important part.

The only downside was that he now had to report on said findings to the Bulwark, and much worse, that misborn Varilik. And not even Fenn’s presence was helping because after what had transpired between them just hours prior was making things awkward.

Fenn hadn’t said anything yet, but Ain could sense the tension bleeding out of him, and he knew it was just because the palace had been set on fire, and there had been an attempt on his life.

There were a few more people present at this incredibly informal meeting, mostly the palace guards, and high-ranking soldiers. They didn’t even have seats here. They’d simply all been summoned to this random room in the palace, empty, save for a few bookshelves. Ain was fairly certain this could have been a bedroom of some sort in the past, but now there was almost nothing. He suspected the reason this place had been chosen was the closeness to the entrance to the palace because he was sure they’d get going the moment this debriefing ended.

If Ain was being honest, he would have left already to go hunt down these assassins, but he needed permission from the Bulwark first.

Blighted rules and regulations.

“The assassin told me that they had an escape plan in case things went wrong. One part of that was setting the palace on fire to distract us. They apparently had a flamewielder with them, which would explain how much that fire spread.”

Everyone nodded along to Ain’s explanation, saying nothing, which Ain was grateful for because he wanted to get this all out before the questions started.

“Anyway, the plan, apparently, is that they will head to Lor-Amren, and lay low for long enough for us to stop looking for them. They have some sympathizers there. From what the assassin said, it didn’t seem like they were planning on going back to Orinovo. Which makes sense, maybe the kralevna would execute them for not managing to kill me and Fenn.”

Then he looked over at the Bulwark, and begrudgingly also Varilik. “You were targets, too, by the way, though lower priority. As well as the other Courtiers. It seemed the assassins were tasked with killing anyone important they could find.”

“We need to investigate this,” the Bulwark said, nodding, her hands clasped behind her back, as elegant as ever. “But more importantly, you need to go after these assassins. Immediately.”

Ain nodded. He agreed completely. The sooner they got going, the better. At least they weren’t going back to their country just yet. Lor-Amren wasn’t a small town, but it also wasn’t too large. Perhaps someone would be willing to mention if a group of strangers had arrived recently.

“You will take a few soldiers with you. I assume your lieutenant will be interested in joining you.” Petre, who was standing somewhere behind Ain, confirmed immediately. “And as much as I do not want to send our shadowforger with you and endanger him when he is still learning to fight, it is safer for the both of you to be together. Especially considering there still might be more assassins here, waiting for their chance. Not staying in one place for too long might be for the best for now.”

Ain agreed, though he wished he could be more excited about spending more time with Fenn. Being near him was going to be awkward now, no matter what. And Ain didn’t want him to be in danger either, but the Bulwark was right. They were stronger together, and they could look out for each other. Besides, the best way for Fenn to get experience was through being out there, fighting.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Fennrin next to him, bowing his head quickly. Ain almost went on a mental tangent about how sexy the way that one lock of Fenn’s light blond hair falling in his eyes was, but he managed to get a handle on himself.

“Good. Now go, quickly. And we will in the meantime investigate here, find out why it had been so easy for the assassins to get inside and threaten us.”

The Bulwark started talking to the members of the palace guard present, which Ainreth completely tuned out. He was just glad he could escape the room without talking to the Herald once.

Fenn and Petre followed him immediately, not questioning anything, clearly also eager to get going before the trail went cold.

“Shall I choose some soldiers to go with us?” asked Petre in a monotone voice. Ain had noticed they did that a lot more when doing things for Ain, but he had no idea what to make of that.

“Yeah, great idea, little guy. We’ll meet by the stables.”

“I’ll just go ahead and pack things for you, too,” Petre said, sighing and increasing their pace, heading out of the palace much more quickly than Ain was. Petre was always so helpful, despite their grumbling. Ain had no idea how he’d get anything done without them.

“Are you okay enough to do this?” asked Fenn as they also exited the palace, walking through the massive, gold-plated gate. When Ainreth stared at him dumbly, Fenn continued. “With the injury. Your shoulder.”

Oh, yeah, Ain had almost forgotten about that already. He gingerly moved his arm, wincing as pain stabbed through it. But still, it did feel better. It felt good enough, anyway. And it wasn’t as though he could skip out on an investigation this important, anyway, not because of such a small injury. He’d just make sure to take it easy on his shoulder, and he would be just fine.

“Yeah, I’m good. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

Fenn shook his head, his ponytail flying around. It was so much fun to watch it move. Though Fennrin himself didn’t look very happy, a worried frown on his face as he stared down at the stone path leading away from the palace. “No, of course not. I was a shadow the whole time.”

“Right. You really saved me back there.”

Ain would have likely managed without Fenn for a bit longer before the palace guards arrived, but he’d had no way of knowing that back then, and also the assassin would surely escape, then, giving them no information or clues as to where to look for the others.

“That is what I am here to do,” Fenn replied, though there was a hint of amusement in his town, even though the worried frown was staying firmly in place. “I am glad I could do my part.”

“You’ve been doing that the whole time, Fenn.”

Fennrin paused, looking at Ain with unreadable eyes. He had been getting better at figuring out what Fenn was thinking, but right now, Ain had no idea. He just hoped he wasn’t mad.

Finally, without saying a thing, Fenn gave a nod and started walking again. Ain took a moment to sigh before following. He was terrified of pushing Fenn to talk about what had happened, but he felt like he would have to. The tension was killing him. It felt like there was now a barrier between them, and he hated it.

Knowing he’d probably come to regret this, he sped up, catching up with the shadowforger.

“Fenn, about what I said back at the feast—”

“Is this the best time to talk about this?”

Fenn was keeping his eyes firmly focused on the ground as he kept walking, but Ain’s hand found his shoulder, stopping him in and gently turning him around. Fenn went with it, even though he now looked gloomy, his eyes still downcast, and his head hung low.

“This is the only time we’ll get alone,” Ain said, trying to sound comforting and patient, hiding how nervous he actually was. He didn’t want to approach this topic. It was terrifying. But unless they did, they wouldn’t get rid of this tense atmosphere between them, and if nothing else, it would make both of them too distracted to properly focus on the matter at hand.

Fenn sighed, his shoulders sinking. “Fine.”

Then he began to head to the path leading around the palace, staying close to the wall, fresh snow crunching beneath their boots. Ain was about to ask what he was doing when he realized Fenn was just looking for a place out of the sight of the people around them. They ended up stopping in a corner, at least partially hidden by the palace walls from the few people walking up and down the pathway.

As the silence between them stretched, making the tension nigh unbearable, Ain swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. “Fenn, I…. Sorry that I called you…well, you know what.”

Fenn took a long look at him, his expression completely neutral, though it was clear from his eyes a lot was going on in his head. A lot that Ain wasn’t privy to, unfortunately. “So you didn’t mean it.”

Did Fenn sound disappointed? Or had Ain imagined it from how much he wished for it to be true? “No, I—” His throat bobbed. He could feel his hands getting sweaty. Sunder, why was this so hard? “I did.” He put a hand over his eyes. “Mean it.”

Blight, he’d been such an idiot. Why had he thought getting drunk again was a good idea after what had happened last time? Whatever that had been. Ain still didn’t know, but he knew it had caused tension as well.

“You did?”

“Yes!” Ainreth sighed, annoyed at his own outburst. He simply had a lot of feelings that had been getting bottled up for two months. It was difficult. “I…like you very much, Fenn.”

Fennrin’s face broke then, his eyes growing a little glazed over, his mouth in a frown. He looked like he might cry if they kept this going, which was certainly not something Ainreth wanted to see. “How can I know you won’t get bored of me, like your other…conquests?”

“Conq—” Ainreth frowned, his eyes widening a second later when it finally clicked in his head what Fenn was talking about. “What?! No, I never liked any of them like I like you, Fenn. Only an idiot would get bored of you.”

Blight, was that what Fenn thought of him? That he was someone who just slept around all the time and never looked for anything deeper? Much to Ain’s chagrin, he supposed that wasn’t an inaccurate description of him to some extent, but the fact was that he was very deeply infatuated with Fenn, and that wouldn’t stop after a single night together.

No, it would just get deeper. Ain knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

Then he realized something, his eyebrows flying up. How could he have missed the implication in Fenn’s words? “Wait, Fenn, are you saying you…like me back?”

Fennrin let out an irritated sigh, folding his arms over his chest. “I…I suppose.”

Ainreth couldn’t help himself, then, whooping, and, grabbing Fenn, he spun him around even as the shadowforger loudly protested by letting out an alarmed cry, and as Ain’s shoulder reminded him of how very much not healed it was. He did stop when Fenn snapped at him to put him down, but Ain didn’t let go of the other man, hugging him close.

And when Fenn hugged him back, Ain felt himself melt into his embrace, finally, finally, feeling a little at peace as the catharsis of having talked about the incident unwound the tension in his muscles.

“Sorry I embarrassed you back there,” Ainreth said, feeling his cheeks grow warm, though neither of them was letting go still. He usually didn’t feel ashamed for humiliating himself while drunk, but acting like that in front of Fenn bothered him. He needed to calm down with the drinking.

“It’s fine.” Fenn’s voice was unsteady and strained. Ain had expected him to be sarcastic, or even annoyed, to show that it wasn’t in fact fine, but instead, Fenn sounded like he was near tears.

Pulling away with alarm, Ain looked right into Fenn’s downturned, glassy eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Fenn shook his head, blinking his tears away. “Nothing. I just….” He let out an annoyed huff, rubbing at his eyes. Ain didn’t like that the shadowforger was angry at his tears, but he did understand. “No one’s ever…wanted me like that. I assumed you just wanted to sleep with me. Nothing more.”

Ain scowled. Blighted superstitions. He wanted to beat up anyone who ever dared speak ill of Fenn just because he was a shadowforger. Actually, he wanted to beat up anyone who spoke ill of him in general.

“No, I—” Ainreth raised a shaky hand, brushing a strand of Fenn’s hair behind his ear. “I mean, that too, of course I want that, but I just want to be with you. I want to hold your hand, and kiss you, and all that other romantic stuff.”

Oh, sun, he hoped Fenn wouldn’t mind too much that Ainreth hadn’t done this much, either. After Zenri had died, he just hadn’t really met anyone who he’d want to be close with, romantically or platonically. Until Fenn, at least.

“I….” Fenn swallowed, his head bowed a little as he stared down at his boots. “I want that as well.”

And Ain couldn’t help himself, then. He gently took a hold of Fenn’s chin, raising his head just enough so he could press his lips to the shadowforger’s. His eyes sliding shut, he waited for Fenn to respond, but he didn’t have to wait long. The next second Fenn moved his lips, kissing him back, his hands hesitantly wandering up to Ainreth’s jaw and hair, grasping onto him as Fenn’s kiss turned hungrier. It was sloppy and inexperienced, and Ain couldn’t help but smile into it, his heart soaring as he matched Fenn’s eagerness, pulling him closer.

Though before he could deepen the kiss further, Fenn broke it off, gasping. His face was wonderfully red, though Ain couldn’t help but worry something was wrong as they stood there panting, still holding onto each other.

“Shouldn’t get carried away,” Fenn said, his voice still breathless. “We have an important mission.”

Ain groaned. Right, for those few glorious seconds, he’d forgotten they needed to get going as soon as possible. Sunder.

“Do we want to deal with it, though?”

Fennrin scowled. “Ainreth.”

Ain sighed. “Fine.” He begrudgingly let go of Fenn, no matter how much he didn’t want to. The shadowforger was right, of course. They had to get going. “Want to hold hands?”

Fennrin blushed again, his already red face growing a shade darker. Ain couldn’t help but grin at the sight, his heart swelling. He couldn’t believe what had just happened—it was still making his head spin. Fenn liked him back, and he wanted to have a relationship with him. It made him feel like he was dreaming.

Saying nothing, Fenn grabbed Ain’s hand, interlocking their fingers. Ain grinned at him, his heart skipping a few beats, his insides fluttering, while Fenn did his best to look anywhere but at Ain. He was so adorable when he was flustered. Ainreth hoped he would get to see a lot more of that before Fenn got used to all the affection Ain was planning on showering him with.

Chuckling as Fenn started to lead him away, still saying nothing, Ain dutifully followed, grinning even wider. This he did not foresee for today, but he was immensely ecstatic about it.

They couldn’t hold hands while riding on horses, which was a tragedy, but there was little he could do about it. He would have tried to hold Fenn’s hand anyway, but the shadowforger seemed dead set on not acting like a stupid teenager in love on this mission, which, while heartbreaking, was the responsible thing to do. Unfortunately.

They had to wear gloves anyway, due to how cold it was today, so the experience wouldn’t be nearly as good. So Ain supposed it was fine. It was fine.

“How sure are we that the assassin wasn’t lying?” asked Petre who was riding behind them with Enlin and three other soldiers whose name Ain had forgotten. They were using the main road, mostly due to it being the fastest way to get to Lor-Amren, the horses’ hooves clopping on the cobblestone.

“Ninety percent?” Ain said, shrugging. “He seemed pretty convincing.”

That was always the risk with getting information through torture, wasn’t it? But after the Orinovan had revealed the town, Ainreth kept burning him, see if he changed his tune. But had he kept insisting it was Lor-Amren, even as he’d begged for mercy, and Ainreth hadn’t felt like prolonging his suffering. If he had been lying, he had been incredibly good at it.

“It’s the only clue we have, anyhow,” Ain continued, looking at Fenn riding next to him. The corners of the shadowforger’s mouth twitched up in a barely-there smile, but it lit up his whole face. Ainreth would have kept staring, fantasizing about kissing him, if not for Petre speaking up again.

“Enlin wants to ask if you two finally got together,” they deadpanned, making Ain blink at the immediate change of topic as he turned around to look at them.

“Hey!” Enlin complained, her whole face bright red. “I didn’t…. I was just wondering if….” She ducked her head, putting a hand over it, while Petre grinned. “It’s none of my business, I know. Sorry, sir.”

The three other soldiers either expressed annoyance or amusement, and Ain didn’t like either of those reactions. He knew his soldiers talked behind his back, and he didn’t care what they might say about him, but he did care about what they said about Fenn. And if anyone dared say anything bad, he would make them regret it.

Before his thoughts got too dark, he turned his attention back to his lieutenant. “You can tell Enlin the rumors are true.”

Petre shook their head, muttering something under their breath before smiling. “Good. I hope you’re happy.”

“We are!” Ain confirmed readily, grinning ear to ear.

Fenn cleared his throat, making Ain look at him instead, only to find him once more adorably flustered, his eyes trained on the road, his face flushed. “Can we focus on our task now?”

Ain would have teased him about focusing on boring things, but he very well knew Fenn was just uncomfortable with all this attention, and while he was cute when he was all blushy, Ainreth didn’t want to push him too much.

“Sure thing. We should be arriving in Lor-Amren soon, anyway.”

Just as he said that, the road took a turn, forking off into two, and down in the valley beneath them, the town sprawled out in the distance. It was tiny compared to Kyr-Toryl, of course, but it was still larger than Ain had thought it would be. There were a hundred houses, at least.

Of course it would be foolish for the assassins to pick a small village to hide in, but couldn’t they have chosen something smaller? This was going to take a while, not to mention that Ain doubted the locals would notice anything strange about a few strangers showing up, especially if said strangers could fake Lys-Akkarian accents as convincingly as the assassin they’d managed to capture.

But, oh well, they had to be staying somewhere if they were hiding out here. How many places could there be for Orinovan assassins to hide? Unless someone here was helping them, which Ain wasn’t discounting.

Heading down the road, nothing was said as they approached the town, though Ain couldn’t help but keep catching glances at Fenn. Now that they were together, he didn’t have to feel bad about staring at him too much. At least he hoped. Fenn did seem to like the attention, even if he got all nervous about it.

“May I suggest checking the local inns?” one of the soldiers in the back said, a blond woman in her thirties. Ainreth couldn’t decide if the suggestion was too obvious, or if it was too useless because no self-respecting assassin would stay at an inn, but since she wasn’t scowling at him, unlike the man right next to her, he decided not to point out either.

“Sure. Let’s split up and search those first.”

They left their horses at the stable near the town gate, a tall, stone wall around the whole place, though it wasn’t anywhere near as tall as Kyr-Toryl’s. Still, there were a couple of towers around, with guards or soldiers stationed in them to watch who came and went. Surely someone up there had been paying attention. The assassins couldn’t have arrived more than a couple of hours ago.

Ain refused to be separated from Fenn, and Petre along with Enlin joined them, which was ideal because this way Ainreth didn’t have to admit that he didn’t know the names of the others.

They went from one inn to the next, asking the people they came across on the streets as well, though no one seemed to know anything, even if they clearly wanted to give the great Daybreaker a useful answer. Being famous truly had its perks.

He longed to kiss the top of Fenn’s blond little head at all times, but the shadowforger was too focused on the mission at hand. Though, Ain supposed that was good because if Fenn was equally as distracted, they’d get absolutely nothing done.

And miraculously no one seemed to know about Fenn being a shadowforger, assuming he was just another soldier even though he wasn’t wearing a uniform, so no one was giving him strange looks. Which was good because Ainreth didn’t want to have to temporarily blind everyone around them in retribution.

Finally, after what felt like an hour or two, though, they were approached by an old woman with a scowl on her face. Ain expected a rant about the state of the country, or something to that effect, but that was not at all what she said.

“I saw some people go inside the abandoned house near mine after midnight,” she said, her scowl growing. “Awful noise. And then I saw another figure join them. Then there was yelling.” She shook her head, muttering something before speaking up again. “I told the guards, but they haven’t done anything about it.”

Ain smiled at her, even as he thought all this over. This sounded too similar to what they were looking for to be a coincidence. Then again, what did he know? But the important thing was that they had a new clue now, and even if this wasn’t related to the assassins, it was worth investigating.

“Don’t you worry, ma’am, we’ll investigate,” Ain said, smiling down at her. “And I’ll make sure to give an earful to the captain of the guard.”

She put a hand over her heart, reaching up with the other to pat his head, which he had to bow down a bit for, given how much taller he was than the woman. “The sun bless you. The house is not far from here, just go down the street. You’ll know it by its boarded-up windows. Horrid place.”

“We’ll get right on it,” Ain replied, grinning and nodding at the woman as she waved them goodbye, going about her business. Then he turned to Fenn, Petre, and Enlin. “We have sleuthing to do, it seems.”

“We should regroup, then,” Petre said, though their flat tone made Ain suspect they already knew he wasn’t planning on bothering with that.

“Come on, Petre, we don’t need those three for this. We’ve got me. And Fenn.” Ain waved his hand dismissively. “Besides, we’d have to go look for them, and they might be on the other side of the town by now.”

Enlin raised her hand hesitantly, her eyes flicking to Ain’s and away again over and over as if she was trying to keep eye contact, but just couldn’t seem to manage to. Ain wondered if that was normal. He hadn’t really been paying attention to her, despite knowing she was a part of his regiment. The only reason he remembered her was that she was Petre’s friend.

“Uh, sir, do you think that’s wise?”

“Enough with the sirs.” Ainreth sighed. “And fine, we’ll be very careful and take a look around before barging in. Happy?”

Enlin didn’t look that way, but she did put her hand down, nodding as she stared down at the ground. Petre looked a little amused at all of this, which made Ain huff out a laugh. How many times had they done something like this over the years? Petre had to know how these things went by now.

“I also think this is a bad idea, but let’s go,” Fenn said, just as adorably broody as ever. Fenn looked like he was brooding even when he wasn’t, and as long as Ain knew he wasn’t the cause, he couldn’t help but enjoy it.

As per the woman’s instructions, they walked down the cobbled street, looking around for a house with its windows boarded up. All Ain was taking in were the snow-covered roofs, though, and the slush along the road. He really didn’t like winter, though it was mostly because his power was severely limited by the short daytime hours. And yes, he could still use them on things like torches or the moon, but what was that good for other than lighting things up? That kind of light was just nothing in comparison to the sun.

It just made him feel weak, and he didn’t like that one bit. At least not even Orinovo was insane enough to wage war in winter. And now he had a very handsome bodyguard with him to protect him during this period, so it wasn’t all bad.

“Is that it?” Fenn’s voice brought Ain back to reality. He blinked when he realized he’d been staring at him again like a mindless idiot. But that wasn’t his fault—Fenn was just distractingly attractive.

Ain quickly composed himself, looking the same way that Fennrin was, immediately spotting a small, rundown house near the town wall. The place did in fact have boarded-up windows, but it also had holes in its roof, many of the shingles missing, and the bricks it was made off were peeking through its peeling walls. And of course, there was also a door made of rotting wood. Delightful.

“Well, so much for surveying things. We can’t look inside of this,” Ain pointed out, probably quite pointlessly because his companions must have noticed that as well.

“I might be able to go in under the door,” Fenn suggested. But there was an issue with that. There was no shadow in front of the door. And without that, there was no way for him to turn into a shadow. And sure, they could all stand in front of the door to cast a shadow at it hopefully, but that was so suspicious they might as well just go in.

And so he pointed out as much, even though he was sure Fenn had figured this out on his own already. “Look, let’s just kick the door down. How many people could be inside such a small house, anyway?”

How many assassins could there have been, also? Surely there weren’t many, otherwise they would be far too noticeable. Ainreth was assuming there were three or four at most. When Lys-Akkaria sent assassins, there had never even been more than three from what he could remember, usually sending one single person.

No one protested, resorting to shrugs and frowns instead. Fenn especially looked tense, but since he wasn’t saying anything, Ain just patted his shoulder as he passed him, walking up to the front door.

He raised his hand, ready to blind whoever was inside with his light before they could attack as he reached the old door, and with one swift kick, the door was flying off its hinges, the wood cracking from the impact.

As the door flew aside, though, and the interior came into view, Ain froze, his eyes going wide, his plan to attack whoever was inside lost to him at the sight in front of him.

There were two dead bodies, a man and a woman, in the middle of the room, blood all over the floor, seeping into the old wood of the floorboards. And behind them, leaning against the cracked wall was none other than the white-haired soundsmith.