The Master and The Marionette (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 2)

“You two look rested,” Asena hums, swallowing another spoonful of porridge.

They summoned us for breakfast in the grand dining hall. But it’s close to empty. Only two people sitting across from us. Garanthian and Asena.

“I thought you might be more comfortable eating in front of fewer people.” She’s watching me with careful intent. Asena’s hair is in two long braids today. One on each shoulder. She’s in her forties, light-brown skin, and wise dark eyes like the open night sky.

“Thank you,” I say.

Kane is careful not to let his knee touch my own. The walk over here was cold and distant. Neither of us has spoken after he turned me down.

“We’d like ya to stay longer… but I’m afraid that isn’t in the cards, is it?” Garanthian speaks up, staring directly at Kane now. Those winter hazel eyes carrying a hidden message.

Kane nods. “We have to keep moving.”

“We have three gifts for you before ya go,” Garanthian says, waving a hand over his shoulder to a younger man, around my age, over to us. He’s tall and lean, with auburn hair and bronze skin.

The young man refills Garanthian’s glass of milk.

“Not milk! Is ya little head filled with cock hairs? Get me what I asked of ya before they sat down!” His large hand lightly smacks the young man on the back of the head.

He snickers as he pulls a satchel out from behind his back. “Specify next time, old man!”

Cock hairs. Nice.

Garanthian removes a pair of leather gloves and a belt, tossing them on the table for us to examine.

“You fight yet, Skylenna?” he asks me, nudging the gloves closer to my plate.

I shake my head. “That’s his job.” I jerk my chin to Kane.

Garanthian exchanges a look with Asena, then back at me. “If ya ever decide to start… these are called demon’s teeth.”

I lift one of the brown leather gloves to get a closer look. The knuckles are lined with sharp spikes. Tiny metal thorns. I nearly prick myself as I run a thumb over its point.

“If he can teach ya to get one good strike on your opponent, these will undoubtedly ensure ya won’t have to fight for long.”

I gulp. Because one punch and I could rip out the skin on their cheek.

“But I’m a wom—” I stop before I can finish, because Asena raises her eyebrows. A stare of wisdom and power I’ve never seen before. She lifts her chin, unblinking.

“Don’t ever finish that sentence out loud or in ya head again, dashna.” Her voice is smooth yet dominating. “Do ya think because I am a woman, I can’t easily overpower a man?”

I blink. Unsure how to answer.

“I’d trust her to lead in battle over my strongest men.” Garanthian nods.

“Women are dragons,” Asena says. “One day, ya will breathe fire too.”

I release the breath I’ve been holding. “Thank you.”

“And for you.” Garanthian points to the belt. “It’s an executioner’s belt. Double straps go over ya chest, holding poisons, crystal explosives, and throwing daggers.”

Kane studies the pockets and small blades holstered in the straps that are meant to tighten across his chest, shoulders, and back.

I wait for him to say thank you. Or nod his approval. But the silence stretches across the narrow table. My head turns to face him, expecting to make eye contact, yet his stare is empty.

Glazed.

Vacant.

He’s switching again. But why? There is no danger?

He blinks several times, focusing on the leather straps, then flicks his gaze to me.

“I’d be lying if I say I’m not going to enjoy using these,” the alter says.

He’s sitting and not standing, so I’m finding it difficult to determine who we’re in the presence of based on body language.

Garanthian shifts in his seat, lifting his chin. “And who am I speaking with now?”

He knows. We haven’t told these people about the infamous Patient Thirteen. We haven’t disclosed what goes on in Kane’s mind.

“How is it you know to even ask me that question?” His voice is bordering on a threat.

Asena answers this. “Our prophecies have described your unique traits.”

The alter scoffs, turning to me. “Skylenna might be able to tell you who I am. That is, if she knows me well enough.” A challenge. A game.

“This is Dessin,” I reply tightly. “The one who will enjoy this gift a little too much.”

I realize now that the belt of weapons likely triggered him to come to the front. Just like sexual encounters will trigger Greystone to surface.

“Indeed. It, at the very least, will help me ignore how annoying it is that your prophecies know this much about my life.” But there is a bright glint of pride in his gaze. I passed his little test. I knew who he was without being told.

“It is a pleasure to meet ya, Dessin.” Garanthian nods, slipping his hand back in the satchel to hand a folded piece of parchment to us. “And I do apologize. I wish I could tell ya more, but there’s ancient magic at play. It won’t allow us to tell ya details.”

Dessin takes it from him, holding it out for both of us to see.

“All we can tell ya about this gift is that time is not on ya side. Act quickly,” Asena says.

The top reads: One name to turn the tides.

We exchange a look before unfolding it.

One word. One name. Calligraphy. Thick strokes of black ink. A cold shower of ice water floods my veins.

Judas.