He was dressed in a black coat, with matte black buttons that disappeared instead of catching the light, and a hood, which he’d drawn up over his hair. The entire top half of his face was concealed by a black mask, one that shielded both eyes behind a piece of gossamer.
Slowly, he reached up and pushed back the hood. It slumped onto his shoulders, revealing his copper hair, no longer loose and messy but slicked back against his head. His hands slid down his front, and as he unfastened the buttons, the coat fell open onto more of that light-swallowing fabric. He shrugged out of the coat, letting it pool on the floor, revealing black trousers and a black tunic that hugged his chest, the collar wrapping like a hand around his throat. Thin ropes of black leather crossed over his ribs. Holsters.
Lila reached out and ran her hands along the straps. He’d grown stronger with their sparring, and he tensed, muscle corded beneath her touch.
“I must admit, Kell,” she said, letting out a soft, breathy laugh. “I am impressed.”
“Are you?” he asked. His voice came out different. Lower. Smoother. Not stone but silk. He leaned a little closer, as if sharing a secret, and said, “And my name isn’t Kell.”
“Oh?” asked Lila, intrigued. “What is it, then?”
Below the mask, his mouth twitched, one corner drawing up into a grin. “You can call me Kay.”
“Kay,” she mused, turning the sound over in her mouth as she made a slow, appraising circle. He heard the small hum of pleasure when she discovered the pair of short swords holstered against his back. They’d become his weapon of choice over the months of training, but these were special. Purchased from the forbidden market in Sasenroche. He knew she would like them, felt her fingers graze one of the leather sheaths before drifting to the hilt.
“Not every blade belongs to you,” he said.
“It does if I can take it.” Her hand nearly closed around the hilt, but he turned suddenly, catching her wrist.
“I wouldn’t,” he warned, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Sure enough, Lila twisted out of his grip, knocking him off-balance. He was fast, but she was faster, and in an instant she was behind him again, drawing one of the swords, holding it aloft like a prize for half a second, before she let out a yelp, and dropped the blade as if burned.
It clattered to the floor, and he clicked his tongue, and knelt, and took it up again. He turned the blade so it caught the light, revealing the spellwork etched into the steel.
“See?” he said. “I can still use magic, too.”
He slid the sword back into its sheath and straightened, lifting his chin. In the end, he’d realized something. He didn’t have to shed all his princely airs. He could double down on them, cultivate a kind of menace, an arrogance that read as danger.
“You let me take that sword,” she snapped, shaking the sting from her palm.
“Pain is a quick teacher,” he said, catching her hand and bringing her burned fingers to his lips. “And I did warn you.”
Lila’s heart quickened—he felt it through her skin.
“I like this new you,” she said, and there was something in her voice, a naked want that made him stiffen.
“Do you?” he purred.
She grinned, and reached out to pull him toward her, but he beat her to it, stepping forward and pressing his body into hers. He guided her back one stride, then two, until her boots met the edge of the bed.
With a quick, almost playful shove, he pushed her down, and she let herself fall, fingers tangling in the leather straps as she pulled him with her onto the bed. He braced himself over her, reached up to draw away the mask, but this time it was Lila who stopped him, fingers wrapped around his wrist.
“Not yet,” she said, with a wicked grin. “I want to see what Kay can do.”
VIII
PORT OF VEROSE
NOW
He dropped onto the Crow’s deck in silence.
Against his face, the black metal molded to his skin. It had taken time to grow accustomed to its weight, the faint shadow it carved at the edge of his vision, the ghost of the gossamer over his eyes, but now, he clung to its presence, the way he felt when he was wearing it. Like someone else entirely.
No longer Kell, but Kay.
Lila landed into a crouch beside him, the familiar Sarows mask fitted over her own face.
Tav pressed himself against the mast of the unfamiliar ship, a finger to his lips. Across the deck, a Veskan sailor sat on a crate, whittling a stick with a short, sharp blade. After a moment he raised the object to his mouth, and it gave up a soft, sweet tune. In the cover of that sound, they crept forward. As it ended, Tav’s shadow crossed into the man’s light.