Prologue

Analleia

Six Months Before the Paravellian Balls

Every great assassination plot required three vital elements: a setting, a target, and a marksman. The setting tonight featured the imposing castle of Ravenwood overshadowing the sleeping village, our target the vicious overlord guilty of depraved crimes ignored by the nobles. The marksmen consisted of me and my two companions.

Only unlike them, I’ve never killed anyone.

My gloved fingertips dug into the grooves of the stone wall, my leather boots finding their footholds as I climbed up the side of the tower. If I’d worn a cloak, it would have billowed behind me in the brisk wind, flapping like a dragon’s wings from this height, but the cloth I wore stretched across my skin as close and dark as the night around me. No fear crippled my limbs as the ground fell farther away beneath me, as I reached the dizzying height, but they trembled from the strain. The two dark shadows of my companions beneath me followed the path I traversed upward.

The ledge of the upper window grew closer, and I paused as I came up on the left side of it, peering into the room. No candles illuminated the interior, but moonlight identified the large shapes of the furniture. I listened. Nothing. Either it was vacant or the occupants were asleep—as we wanted them to be. I stepped onto the ledge, easing through the window and onto the gray stone floor with utter silence.

I stilled.

Nothing.

One step.

Two steps.

My companions slipped into the room behind me as I scanned our surroundings. Two forms lay in the bed beneath a mound of covers. Asleep. I crossed the room to guard the chamber door, slipping my dagger from its leather sheath. No noise from the outer hall drifted beneath the doorway, but we needed to be quick. We were all too aware that the presence of a stranger in someone’s room had the uncanny ability to raise them from the deepest slumber.

Desmond waited by the window as Nadiyah stalked forward, gliding across the floor to the edge of the massive bed like a wraith. The flip of a coin flashed in my memory, the determining factor over who would wield the lethal blade. The art of assassination took its toll—and I was thankful for their willingness to spare me from committing the actual deed.

I measured my breathing, my fingers curling around the hilt of the dagger as I watched Nadiyah draw her own.

The slightest twinge of movement drew my gaze to the shadows of the right-hand corner, where my eyes locked on a piece of furniture I’d given no thought to. I heard a faint intake of breath and watched a tiny foot rise above the walls of the bassinet. I froze, the life of this nameless child we were about to orphan playing out before me, twisting through my own memories and carving out my heart. No. We couldn’t do this. Years of training to feel nothing, to act without emotion, all faded at the thought of the child.

“Wait!”

The frantic whisper left my lips without thought, without consideration for the consequences.

Someone’s breath caught, out of rhythm, before—

The scream ripped through my ears like the wail of a banshee and echoed off the stone walls, magnifying it by a thousand. A woman’s scream. Our target next to her startled awake, and Nadiyah swiped out with her blade. He jerked back before it slit his throat. The door burst open behind me, flooding the room with torchlight as heavy boots sounded on stone.

I spun, the woman continuing to scream as she leapt for the baby, but my gaze locked on the guard who had charged into the room. A wide scar traveled down the right side of his confused face, the remnants of a burn from long ago.

A burn I recognized.

Fear overwhelmed me, choking the air from my lungs as the sight of his scars took me to a different time. To a different castle with different screams. But screams had the power to awaken dark memories—memories I had tried for so long to repress. They clawed at me now. I could feel the maid’s hands on my arms as she pulled me from my bed, shoving me into a hidden stairwell. Shouts echoed behind us, the cries of dying soldiers reverberating off the walls. Someone grabbed my arm, yanking me back, and I threw my lamp at my attacker, a roar ripping from their throat as the hot oil burned through their flesh. I fled down the stairs, tripping on my nightdress—

My eyes refocused, remembering the scene around me. The tower. The assassination. The baby.

My dagger was in my grasp, but I couldn’t raise it to the scarred guard. I couldn’t kill him. He stared, weapon raised, hesitating as he narrowed his eyes at me in the dim light. I saw the flicker of recognition in them a second before the words left his mouth.

“I know you.”

A knife sailed past my ear and sank into the man’s chest. I stared at it in shock, trying to reacquaint myself with reality. Another guard lay dead on the floor as more in the hall rushed toward the room. Our target held a knife, dodging darts from Nadiyah as his wife huddled in the corner with the crying baby.

Reason clawed its way out of my mind. I raced back to the window ledge as Desmond glared at me. He and Nadiyah slithered out and down the tower.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. In and out in less than a minute. Undetected. Undiscovered until morning. That was the job. And I’d ruined everything. Cost us everything.

Guards poured through the doorway as I swung over the ledge, but they had already spotted me. Light streamed out the window and set off a domino effect through the rest of the tower, shouts and raised voices echoing off the stone within.

No. No. No.

Getting out now would be near impossible.

Reaching the bottom of the tower took far too long, but trying to move any faster risked us plummeting to our deaths. My hands grew slick within my gloves, my body trembling as I focused on finding the next foot or handhold.

The watch dogs barked. The gatehouse sprang to life. Nadiyah gasped then let out a soft cry as she fell. I hit solid ground and watched her try to take a step. She stumbled.

“My ankle,” she whispered.

Desmond slipped an arm beneath her to help bear her weight and dragged her forward.

“Find us a way out of here,” he snarled at me through gritted teeth.

The dog’s barking drew closer as we tore through the grounds.

Panic lit within me. We had half a field to cross after this. The outer wall of the tower loomed ahead as the shouts grew louder behind us. I pivoted, helping Desmond push Nadiyah over the wall before shimmying up it behind her. Snarling dogs rushed up behind us and snapped at my legs, their spittle spraying my ankles with a rush of wind from their jaws. I rolled over the top of the fence and hit the ground running. Desmond hiked Nadiyah onto his back before following after.

Ten minutes ago the houses had been dark, but the commotion from the tower had woken the village. All stealth was gone.

I darted down an alleyway, racing toward the edge of the village. Guards trickled out into the street with torches, looking for the intruders. The drain pipe caught my eye. I nearly vomited at the thought but ran toward it at full speed. Desmond groaned behind me, but Nadiyah couldn’t scale the village wall with only one leg. It was too high.

I yanked at the grate with all my might, willing it to move. It shifted, and I shoved it out of the way before pushing Desmond and Nadiyah in first to give them a head start. I dropped in, shaking as refuse pooled around my legs. I maneuvered the grate back over the opening before pressing forward through the sludge, sticking my face into the crook of my elbow in an attempt to minimize the smell.

We crawled underground for what seemed like miles even though I knew it could only have been a few hundred yards. The rank smell nearly made me pass out, but I followed the slosh of the liquid ahead of me where Desmond and Nadiyah moved through the dark. Light wavered at the end of the tunnel, growing brighter until we broke out where the sewage dumped into the river.

I waded into the clean flowing water, dunking my head despite its freezing temperature, and rubbing my legs together as I tried to get rid of the nasty junk clinging to them before popping above the surface and swimming for the bank. Water dripped from our clothes as we staggered out of the river and ran across the field, Nadiyah piggybacking on Desmond once more. No lights followed. The guards weren’t pursuing. If they hadn’t seen us disappear into the sewage, we might have a chance.

We didn’t stop moving until we reached the other side of the open field and found shelter deep within the forest trees. My lungs heaved for fresh air, the dampness of my clothes chilling me. Nadiyah leaned back and let Desmond examine her foot. Her ankle was swelling, light bruising already coloring the skin. Desmond’s movements were stiff, his jaw clenched, and I knew the eruption of my brother’s anger lingered only moments away.

Nadiyah stayed quiet, seeming to sense the tension hovering in the air, which only made me feel worse.

She could’ve died because of me.

“What was that back there?” Desmond asked in a low voice.

My hands trembled, eyes focused on the shadows swaying in the trees. I didn’t answer him. I didn’t know how to.

“You can’t throw a mission when others are involved, Analleia. If we hadn’t gotten out—”

“I know that,” I snapped, then dropped my voice to a whisper. “But there was a child.”

“We are not hired to ask questions or consider morals. We’re hired to do an assignment. In and out. No complications. You didn’t just botch and jeopardize this assassination, you put all of our livelihoods on the line. You don’t want to kill anyone? Fine. But Nadiyah and I need to maintain our reputations if we’re going to make a living. Finding someone willing to hire us after tonight will be difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Sorry isn’t good enough when our lives are at risk.”

His harsh voice cut through the night around me, and I fought the urge to take a step back. He rarely showed anger like this. It always simmered in a quiet rage within him.

He raked a hand through his hair, turning his back. “I saw you freeze. It happened again, didn’t it?”

I hesitated, fists clenching at my sides. Nadiyah met my eyes, and I swallowed, trying to hold back the barrage of memories that assaulted me. I’d kept them at bay for so long, but it seemed once I’d reawakened them they could not be silenced.

“You weren’t in the castle the night they attacked,” I said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Was it a flashback?”

I didn’t answer.

“What triggered it?” Nadiyah asked.

“He knew my face,” I whispered. “He was there the night of the attack.”

“How can you be sure?”

I closed my eyes, willing the images flashing in my mind to stop. “Because I never forget a face. He was there that night in the stairwell. He tried to grab me, and I threw the oil lamp at his face. He bore the scars. He recognized me. After all this time, he knew who I was.” I met their eyes. “Someone else might too.”

None of us said anything, the implication weighing down the conversation.

“I can’t do it,” I said. “Not like this. It’s too risky if someone recognizes us while we’re there like this guard did.” I swallowed. “I have to go to her.”

A rare spark of fear lit my brother’s eyes. “Analleia, no.”

“I made a promise, and I swore an oath,” I stated. “If I want to keep it, and we want to pull off this assassination, then I have to go to her.” I unsheathed my dagger, staring down at the face reflecting back at me in the metal. “I have to change my face.”

Chapter One

Analleia

I never understood why legend called it the dark wood.

Sunlight burst through the trees, illuminating the forest with a glow that permeated everything it touched. Dust glittered like sparkles in the beams of light shining through the interwoven branches. Nothing about the wood was dark or imposing. It was like a grand hall created for fairies—yet few dared to enter.

My leather boots pressed into the soft moss weaving a trail through the woods that created a carpet of green leading to the cottage. A shiver crawled its way down my spine at the mere thought. The cottage. Such a basic name for a terrifying concept. A nightmare, as legend called it. The path shifted to an incline, and I hiked up the skirts of my lilac dress, bunching the velvet fabric in my hands to keep it from dragging on the ground. My white-blond hair cascaded down my back in waves, pale like moonlight. My preference would have been to come in black, to come as who I really was while protected by the cover of darkness, but I didn’t know if she would appreciate that.

Fear crept in at the thought.

A leather bag of gold coins jingled at my side, a heavy reminder of the weight of this task’s importance. I could do this. The shuddering breath that escaped my lips spoke otherwise. I reassured myself that I had nothing to fear, but it didn’t work, unease rising to power within me. Hundreds of stories about the old crone who lived in the dark woods of Kader had been recounted by the superstitious, and I’d heard nearly every single one. They were told in closed circles in the taverns, whispered into the ears of disobedient children, and recounted in hushed voices around vagabonds’ campfires.

The Enchantress, they called her.

Some claimed she was nothing more than an old woman who had given in to senility. Others swore she was the most powerful sorcerer to ever live.

The endless tales swirled around me.

If you touched her house, you would turn to dust.

If you looked into her eyes, she would steal your memories and curse you to walk the earth as a nameless one.

If you plucked a flower from her garden, vines would wrap around your limbs and drag you deep into the earth.

And if you ever, ever made a deal with her—you would regret it for the rest of your days.

Each recollection haunted me as I delved deeper into the trees, forcing bravery into my terror-filled heart. They were only stories, old wives’ tales used to scare off curious little ones. Or were they? Truth shimmered at the edges of them.

Those who made a bargain with the Enchantress never spoke of it again—except one. I knew of a fellow assassin in the tower who had visited the Enchantress and made a deal to bring back her sister from the edge of death. An impossible bargain, as the infection was too far gone. Death came for her sister. When she poured the elixir between her lips she hadn’t been breathing, but whatever the vial had contained, it changed her visage from one second to the next. Alive. Whole. Healed. The assassin never revealed what she had bargained for the elixir, but the weight of it clung to every line on her face to this day, and looking at that horror and grief in her eyes chilled me.

Coming to the dark wood was dangerous and bordered stupidity, but if anyone could alter my face and conjure an invitation to the Paravellian Balls, it was the Enchantress. Maybe she was nothing, but the girl’s recovery was the only real magic I had ever seen.

The mossy path curved, hiding the trail ahead, and the brisk air cut against my cheeks. I sniffed as my nose ran and threw an arm over my eyes to shield them from the brightening sunlight, rounding one final bend before staggering to a stop, overwhelmed at the sight before me.

Colors of every shade exploded like fireworks from a massive garden with the grandest array of flowers I had ever seen: roses, petunias, daisies, lilies, pansies, some in shades I’d never known existed. A garden of herbs wrapped around the back of a white cottage overgrown with ivy. My mouth fell open. How were the plants so fresh and vibrant this late in the year?

A pebbled path beckoned the way to the cottage door, but I couldn’t bring myself to take another step. The warnings of the evil within assaulted me, but the sight stole my breath away. I moved closer to the flowers hanging over the wooden garden gate, examining the purple specks on the petals of the white roses. I scrunched up my nose, not wanting to believe what my eyes were seeing. It couldn’t be natural. Was it sorcery? If she could change these flowers’ appearances …

“Touch one of its petals and the flower will sear your fingertips like fire.”

I spun, my heart jumping in my chest as I reached for one of the daggers at my hip. I half expected to turn into dust or disappear beneath the ground.

Her eyes caught my attention first, green spheres with flecks of light gold sprinkled around her irises like pixie dust. Straight ebony hair flowed over her shoulders and complimented warm brown skin that seemed to glisten in the sunlight. She was not young, but nor was she old. Her appearance spiraled me into confusion until I suspected her true age was masked by an enchantment.

I dipped into a curtsy, but she looked unimpressed.

I swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. “I came to buy an enchantment from you, Miss …”

She cocked an eyebrow as I trailed off, but she didn’t offer a name.

“What would a girl like you need an enchantment for?” She took in my attire. “What is your name?”

I drew my shoulders back and pulled the poorly fabricated invitation from my pocket, extending it to her. It might get me in the doors of the first ball, but it also might get me arrested if the guards identified it as a counterfeit. Sunlight reflected off the gold filigree and elaborate script. “My name is Marielle, and I need three invitations for the Paravellian Balls.”

Curiosity sparked in her eyes as she turned the paper over in her hands. “Why the Paravellian Balls?”

False fascination filled my voice. “It’s the experience of a lifetime, where a gathering of the royals and nobles from the surrounding kingdoms come together for seven nights of wonder and enchantment. It only occurs every five years.”

“And you wish for an invitation because you enjoy dancing so much you want to twirl at seven different balls, or because you hold a position of power you wish to form alliances from?”

“Each ball is unique in its own way,” I said. “It’s not the dancing but the puzzles and the masquerade. Most kingdoms attend to form alliances or strike trade deals, but there are others who simply go for political means or the enjoyment.”

“And you fall beneath the latter?”

“As I said, it is the experience of a lifetime.”

I forced hope and expectation to fill my eyes.

The Enchantress ran a slender finger over the invitation as if pondering my request—then wadded it into a ball. My eyes widened in horror and I lunged for it as she tossed it aside like a piece of trash.

“I don’t make bargains with liars.” Venom laced her tone.

“I—I’m not—” I stammered.

“Did you think you could trick or lie to an enchantress? I know far more than you could ever imagine, and I know exactly who you are, Analleia de Ellen Mercais Kallistar.”

Fear cracked within me like a whip, and I drew a dagger from each hip, searching the surrounding woods for danger. No one had called me by my full name in years. Nor should anyone remember me by it. The lines of my face hardened from an innocent maiden to that of a threatening warrior.

The Enchantress scoffed at my daggers as if they were nothing more than sewing needles. “Do not act surprised. I know all who enter my wood.” She homed in on the symbol engraved into the hilts of my daggers. “Ah, you come from the assassin’s guild of the Dark Walkers… that’s where you ran off to when your kingdom was destroyed.”

I blinked, unsure of how to respond. Could she be reading my mind?

“If you wish to make a bargain with me, you must be honest, Analleia,” she continued. “You will tell me the whole truth, no matter how dark it may seem. Why is it you are so desperate to attend the Paravellian Balls?”

My fingers twitched. I couldn’t trust her with the truth, nor could I gain her help without it. I averted my gaze, then lifted my chin and met her eyes. “To assassinate King Zaricor.”

My first and only kill as an assassin.

A smile touched her lips. “Kill the king of Paravellia? Well, well, this is very dark, isn’t it?” A tea kettle whistled from inside the house, and she turned to the door. “First you must come and have a sip of tea with me.”

I shivered, hesitating before following her up the cobblestone path. The strong aroma of foliage and herbs assaulted me as I stepped across the threshold. It was like stepping into an overgrown greenhouse. Plants had been shoved into any bare spot and crevice that could hold them, some teetering precariously on uneven stacks of books and lopsided furniture. One wall held a crumbling hutch stuffed with jars full of remedies for every ailment imaginable. Oddly shaped and crooked framed artworks decorated any wall that wasn’t hidden by greenery.

“Sit.”

The Enchantress gestured to a three-legged stool. One leg looked rotted, and I questioned its ability to hold me. She poured the hot tea into two mugs and offered me one. I blew across the top, curling my hands around the cup for warmth as steam rose from it, but I had no intention of drinking the liquid within—no matter how ordinary it might look.

“If you’ve trained with the Dark Walkers, you’re skilled enough to pull off this assassination,” she said. “Why ask me for help with the invitations? Couldn’t you have stolen or forged one on your own instead? Bribed someone?”

I had already run through every possibility in my head. Asked every question. Thought of every setback or interference.

“We did create a fabricated invitation.” I crafted my answer carefully. “But getting in isn’t the problem. It’s being allowed to stay that’s the issue.”

The Enchantress stared at me, waiting for further explanation. She wasn’t going to make this easy.

“I need magic to disguise my face,” I continued. “If I walk into the Paravellian Balls as I am, I could be recognized, which would be disastrous. I underestimated how recognizable a Kallistar would be.”

The scar-faced man flashed before my eyes. I know you.

I pushed the memory away, reaching for the money pouch secured at my hip. “I have plenty of gold coin. I’m willing to pay—whatever it may cost.”

The Enchantress frowned at my coin then set her teacup down, warning coating her voice. “Oh, I don’t deal in money, Analleia.”

Goose bumps traveled up my arms. I swallowed hard, remembering the girl who had bargained to save her sister.

Money was all I had to trade.

I had brought nothing else.

Had nothing else.

I glanced at the oddities hoarded in the cottage. “What is it you deal in?”

She crossed her arms, a curious glint lighting her expression. “First I have a few questions I would like you to answer. Why are you willing to go to such lengths to assassinate King Zaricor?”

Her question caught me off guard, and I stammered. I’d only ever voiced my plans to Desmond and Nadiyah. The one other person aware of them was the headmistress of the Dark Walkers. It felt wrong, the secrecy. The whole world should know of King Zaricor’s atrocities.

“Because he destroyed my kingdom.”

If that were only the half of it.

“I need a deeper answer than that.”

If I wanted to be honest, I would’ve told her I had no desire to kill anyone. Yes, I was an assassin, but I’d only joined the Dark Walkers to learn the necessary skills for this mission. It was the only way I could ensure King Zaricor would be punished for his heinous crimes.

“I promised my mother,” I said. “And I owe it to my sister.”

A lump rose in my throat at the mention of them. Five years and the hurt cut as deep as it had the moment I lost them.

The Enchantress shrugged, picking up her teacup again. “Fair enough, but second, what is your plan to kill the king? Is it a process? Or will you waltz through the ballroom doors and immediately strike him through the heart?”

I closed my eyes. No. That would be too merciful for him. Anger surged within me. “The plan is to assassinate him at the finale ball. During the six balls leading up to it, I will sabotage every alliance he tries to form and destroy every pact he tries to create. When he looks me in the eyes before I kill him, I want him to know he is ruined—and I want him to know who it was that ruined him.”

“And you think you are capable of accomplishing this on your own?”

I had Desmond and Nadiyah backing me, but the plan was all my own. Every detail had been meticulously planned to perfection over the last five years. I would not fail.

“Yes,” I said.

“Hmm.” The Enchantress feigned confusion. “I seem to recall a botched assassination that occurred, oh, about six months ago?”

I stiffened, memories of that night flashing through my mind. I’d nearly cost my brother and my friend their lives. The three months of probation we’d been placed on had almost destroyed Nadiyah, and I’d questioned if the headmistress of the Dark Walkers would ever allow us into her presence again.

“There were unexpected complications that night,” I said. “Individuals present who had not been disclosed.”

“And you think there will be no unexpected complications at any of the seven Paravellian Balls?”

I clenched my jaw. “We’ve been planning this assassination for five years. What happened that night in Ravenwood will never happen again.”

I would sacrifice myself to make sure of it.

“If you won’t allow me to pay you with gold,” I said, changing the subject. “What can I pay you with?”

She ran a hand through her ebony hair. “I will make you a bargain.”

“What kind of bargain?”

“I am no worshipper of King Zaricor either.” She sighed. “He is a vile, wicked man. If you can complete your mission, if you can kill him, that’s almost reason enough to lend you the magic, but I want something else in return.” She paused. “Half of the bargain I will ask for now, and the other half I will come to collect later.”

My heartbeat quickened. “Come to collect what exactly?”

She shrugged. “It depends on when you accomplish the first task.”

Bargaining for something when you didn’t know what the exchange entailed was a dangerous game. It could be a trick. It was idiocy to agree—but I was desperate. Beyond desperate.

“What is the first task?” I asked.

“There is a man in the court of Paravellia by the name of Richard Athello. He wears a ring on his right hand, a gold band with vines and leaves encompassing an opal stone. I want you to remove it from his finger and bring it to me.”

My eyes narrowed. She was an enchantress. Why not steal the ring herself? The task seemed easy. Almost too easy. But I wasn’t in a position to be asking questions.

“Done.”

“But,” she continued, “should you fail to deliver on your end of the bargain—you will come work for me as payment.”

I stared at her. “As what, a housemaid?”

“You’re a Dark Walker.Your skills would be wasted on cleaning.”

A chill swept through the room, my jaw tightening. “You want me to kill for you?”

“I want you to do whatever I ask you to.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Only if you don’t fulfill your end of the bargain. Follow through and you won’t have to worry about it.”

The request didn’t surprise me. Dark Walkers were highly sought after by those who wanted something done quickly and discreetly.

But I had joined them to learn their skills, not to kill. I’d had nowhere else to go, and we’d been accepted into the tower. I couldn’t agree to work for her, to kill for her, if that was what she was implying, but nor could I execute our plan without the aid of her enchantment.

Working for her would be collateral if I didn’t fulfill my end of the bargain—and I planned to. I would do everything to make sure of it.

I swallowed. “Done.”

She closed her eyes in concentration, then the air fizzled around me and popped, sparks exploding around us as magic sealed the deal between us.

“Good, very well. Now to change that face.”

The Enchantress rose and rummaged in the cupboards below the hutch, coming back with a clear bottle. Sunlight streaming through the window touched its contents, making it sparkle like glitter. The Enchantress’s lips moved, but no sound came from them. She uncorked the bottle and poured a small mound of the magical substance into her palm. She turned to me—and blew it directly in my face.

I gasped, inhaling the powder in one deep breath. It stung like icicles when it touched my skin yet burned like fire. My vision clouded, the world growing hazy before clearing again. I picked up a small looking glass on the side table and peered into it. Disappointment splintered through me when my own face peered back. Unchanged.

“The magic only works on people, not objects,” the Enchantress said. “I would avoid mirrors, polished silver, or large collections of water when you’re at the Paravellian Balls. Only those who you wish to and who know your true self can see it. The magic masks your name as well.”

I frowned. “My name?”

“You may introduce yourself at the Paravellian Balls as Analleia Kallistar.” She smiled. “It is far too pretty of a name not to use. As long as you fulfill your end of the bargain, the spell will keep anyone from associating the name Kallistar with your destroyed kingdom.”

Convenient, but strange.

Dark circles formed below the Enchantress’s eyes and she ushered me out the door.

That was it?

I grabbed the door frame to prevent her from pushing me outside.

“What about the invitations to the Paravellian Balls?” I asked.

“You will find them on your dressing table when you return to the tower of the Dark Walkers. I must rest now.”

“But—”

The door slammed shut behind me, the bright cottage and garden seeming to dim.

I looked down at my hands, expecting them to be different, but the pale skin belonged to me.

One ring.

One ring in exchange for disguise.

And a successful assassination.

I looked out at the dark wood, all the puzzle pieces falling into place.

But one misstep could destroy everything.