Kyan nodded. “If every mortal looked at others as their friends, not as their enemies, the world would be a much better place, wouldn’t it?”

Lucia regarded Kyan with total bemusement. He sounded like the Limerian priest who used to give long sermons about the goddess Valoria and her virtues.

Trust strangers. Give of yourself. Be kind.

She’d once believed in such nonsense.

“That’s so incredibly kind of you, friend,” the thief said, smiling. Then he raised his dagger and stabbed it down, hard, pinning Kyan’s left hand to the table. “But I’d really prefer to get what I asked for. Give me that bag of coins now, or I’ll stick my dagger in your eye next.”

Lucia stared at Kyan with shock as the fire god calmly studied his impaled hand. “I offered to help you, and this is what you do?” he asked, dismayed.

“I didn’t ask for your help. Only asked for your gold.”

Kyan slowly pulled his hand toward himself, forcing the blade to slice between his fingers.

The thief grimaced and nearly gagged. “What the—?”

Now free from the dagger, Kyan rose to his feet, his previously peaceful expression only a memory. His eyes had shifted from amber to blue, so bright that they glowed in the dimly lit tavern.

“Your weakness disgusts me,” he said. “I need to cleanse it from this world.”

The thief took a step backward, raising his hands in surrender. “Look, I don’t want any trouble.”

“Really? You could have fooled me,” Lucia said, her skin still crawling from the lecherous way the man had looked at her. “Kill this pathetic mortal, Kyan, or I’ll do it myself.”

She felt the heat before she saw the fire. A narrow whip of flames snaked toward the man, licking his boot and slowly winding up his ankle, calf, and thigh like a vine of fire. Every patron in the tavern took notice as chairs skidded against the wooden floor and men and women collectively rose to their feet with alarm.

Lucia watched fear flicker in their eyes as they watched the strange fire entangle the thief.

The thief stared at Kyan with wide eyes. “No! Don’t—whatever you’re doing—don’t do this!”

“It’s already done,” Kyan replied simply.

“You—what are you? You’re a demon! An evil beast from the darklands!”

The flames engulfed his mouth and face until his entire body, head to toe, became a torch. Then, suddenly, the fire turned from deep amber to brilliant blue—just as Kyan’s eyes had.

The thief screamed. The shrieking sound reminded Lucia of a frightened rabbit caught in the jaws of an ice wolf.

The crowd around them scrambled, tripping over each other in their rush to get outside. The thief continued to burn, and the fire caught hold of the dry wooden chairs, wooden tables, wooden floor. Soon the entire tavern was ablaze.

“He deserved to die,” Kyan said, calmly.

Lucia nodded. “I agree.”

Still, Lucia felt shaky as she followed him through the flames—flames that didn’t burn or even touch her. She glanced over her shoulder as the screaming finally stopped and watched as the thief’s body shattered like a blue crystal statue hitting a marble floor.

Once outside, Lucia took one more look at the burning tavern.

There was no one in this world who could stop them from reaching their goal. A god and a sorceress—they were the perfect match.

Lucia glanced down at Kyan’s hand.

His wound had healed so perfectly, it was as if it had never been there in the first place.

CHAPTER 5

FELIX

AURANOS

It was fun being one of the bad guys again.

No remorse, no conscience. Free to be cruel and uncaring. Creating chaos and instilling fear wherever he went with a song in his heart.

Good times.

Felix had just spent three very enjoyable days in shiny and extravagant Hawk’s Brow, the largest city in Auranos. First, he’d beaten up a man for no particular reason and then stolen his clothes, only to find that his fine leather shoes were disappointingly tight. He’d bedded two gorgeous blondes—identical twins, in fact—and hadn’t even bothered to learn their names. And then he’d robbed a busy tavern of nearly two hundred centimos while the barkeep had his back turned.

Felix Graebas, a highly valued assassin for the Clan of the Cobra before his short leave of absence, had returned to the life he was meant for.

He tossed his Kindred crystal up into the air and caught it, enjoying the familiar weight of it in his grip.

“Where to?” he asked the air magic swirling inside the orb of moonstone, then held it to his ear. “To the City of Gold, you say? What an excellent idea. Let’s you and I pay a visit to the king.”

The last time he’d seen the king, he’d been given a very special assignment: find Jonas Agallon and infiltrate his band of rebels, learn as much as he could about their plans, kill Jonas, and then swiftly return to report his findings to the king.

Instead, Felix had decided that this would be the perfect time to redeem himself for his past wrongdoings and become a good, upstanding citizen rather than a cold-blooded killer working for the King of Blood.

What a laugh.

Hopefully, despite the unexpected delay in his travels, the king would welcome him back into the fold with open arms. He’d be back to cutting throats and burning villages by the following week.

Felix was passing through a small village nestled in a forest when he heard someone call out to him.

“Young man! Young man! Please, I need your help!”

Ignore her, Felix told himself. You don’t help people, you kill them. Even helpless old ladies if they’re foolish enough to get in your way.

“Young man!” The old woman scurried up to him and grabbed hold of his shirt sleeve. “Goodness, child, didn’t you hear me? Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

He pocketed the air Kindred. “First of all, lady, I am not a child. And, secondly, where I’m going is none of your concern.”

She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him. “Well, never mind then. All I know is I need help, and you’re tall and you look strong enough.”

“Strong enough for what?”

She pointed at a nearby tree. “Up there!”

Felix frowned and peered up into the thick tree, heavy with leaves. Perched precariously on a branch high above their heads was a small gray-and-white kitten.

“Somehow my darling little kitty got herself up there,” the old woman explained, wringing her hands, “and now she can’t get back down. She’s so very frightened, can’t you see? And so am I. She’s going to fall or get snatched up by a hawk!”

“You really do have to be watchful for hawks,” he said, then snorted. The woman stared at him blankly. “Watchful. Hawks. Get it?”

She pointed again, more frantically this time. “You must climb up the tree and save my kitty before it’s too late!” The kitten let out a tiny but plaintive mew, as if to emphasize the dilemma.

It was rather unfortunate for this woman that Felix had happened along in her time of need. Had he been Jonas Agallon, he’d likely have already rescued the cat, and would now be busy milking a goat for its dinner.

Even just that brief thought of the failed rebel leader had managed to darken Felix’s mood.