Risens knocked on the door, determined, almost frantic. More like he collapsed into it than anything else. The sudden noise brought a muted gasp of surprise from. A shadow covered the peephole, followed by a virulent curse.

  “What in Pylkev’s heart happened to you?” Tawny glowered as Risens stepped inside, pulling a cloaked figure with him.

  “No names. No details. No exceptions.”

  He regretted the curt response, yet fighting through the pain that wracked much of his body had sapped him of his reserve of patience.

  Tawny, her eyes narrowed into slits somewhere between anger, annoyance, and concern, nodded in acknowledgment. Her piercing gaze extracted its daggers from his chest, shifting to the disguised figure standing awkwardly beside him.

  When realization set in, mistiness quenched the fire that burned in her eyes, her clenched jaw relaxed, and her mouth fell open.

  “Mercy,” she whispered, her tone soft and careful.

  “Blind obedience, nothing more.”

  The answer satiated her for the moment, though he knew the questions would come when time permitted.

  “My dear,” Tawny said to the woman, ushering her inside. “You are in the company of a friend who understands you far better than you can imagine.”

  Risens understood intrinsically that this would be putting them all at risk, yet in the moment, he’d seen no other option. Of all his many safe houses in the city, none were unknown to servants of the King. The fact that he’d stumbled on the healer’s concealed clinic had been pure luck. That, with his level of knowledge, he’d not previously heard of it was telling. It existed beyond the bounds of their intelligence for a reason.

  “Will she be safe here?” he inquired, cutting into their introductions.

  Tawny flashed him a fiery look that was entirely lost on him. “Yes. I live and work alone. There’s currently an unoccupied room next door. With all due respect, I’m concerned about my own safety as well.”

  Though he kept his face emotionless, he understood the concern. The King was not one to be trifled with, and he’d now broken a clear order.

  Again.

  “It is only by your mercy and my limited patience that she survives,” he replied coldly. “She understands that there is no option for another second chance. There is nowhere in this Kingdom she can hide if she betrays me.”

  His glare was met with far more of a potent reaction as the courtesan withered beneath its intensity. She had said little, yet made clear her understanding of the predicament she now found herself in. Had she simply fled the massacre of the Duke’s estate, she would have been no threat. Yet now… She knows what he was capable of. Undoubtedly, when he’d arrived at Pale Pink’s, she’d expected a swift end. She had no understanding of why her life had been spared, as he gave no details on the sudden change of his mind.

  In truth, he had no details to offer as he was still struggling to comprehend them himself. In the moment, it was a choice based solely on survival. The voice had spoken, and he’d listened.

  He knew the King well. Having killed for him for most of his life, Risens knew His Majesty’s penchant for violence as well as his intolerance for those who betrayed him. The Duke was proof enough of that.

  Risens was but a man, alone in the world; he had nothing tangible to give.

  Except for his life.

  He was keenly aware of all the assassins who could be directed at him. Each was uniquely skilled, yet his position as the King’s Rightmaker had been earned, not gifted.

  King Lathrenon’s words were law. He commanded a presence that could be felt, though his punishments were entirely physical. He would send his blades, his assassins, his Rightmaker to finish the deed. He commanded armies heralding the deaths of thousands, yet his hands never touched the blade.

  The voice that had demanded he spare the courtesan’s life hammered into his skull. He had no question as to its ultimate authority. But he knew not why. Who did that commanding voice belong to exactly, and why did he feel an utter compulsion to obey? It wore no crown he could see, yet he was willing to deny the King to please it.

  It had Branded him without laying a finger on him. Not because someone else held the heated iron, but because the owner of the voice desired it. It had threatened his death if he killed the woman, and Risens understood the warning implicitly. Death would not come at the hands of hired blades if he failed. As skilled as he was, there would be nothing he could do to prevent it.

  For the first time in his life, he considered the King in a different light.

  When in the presence of true power, Lathrenon was nothing more than a spoiled child.

  Risens had followed the order of the deafening voice willingly, though it was now his station to deal with the repercussions.

  Whatever they may be.

  He saw a glimmer of hope spark within the woman as the realization set in that she would survive. The remaining shreds of strength she had shown in the safe house beneath Pale Pink’s Pub faded.

  After he’d sheathed his blades and demanded her silence, she’d changed tactics, throwing herself bodily at Risens. When he’d denied her advances, she grew confused. Only once he promised her she would not die this day did she become a willing and surprisingly helpful participant.

  “I’d only found my way to Pale Pink’s safe house a few hours ago,” the woman said, finally finding her voice. “I…”

  “She found another dead whore,” Risens finished for her, having already heard this story. Tawny gasped. “Another woman, Branded under her chest with long, wavy, dark hair and alabaster skin like hers, was found dead in an alley close to where I encountered you.”

  A look of concern flooded Tawny’s face.

  “When I arrived to deliver the news to Essefan, he was nowhere to be found,” the woman said.

  Risens knew the truth of it. The man was nowhere but caught up in the massive arms of the pub’s proprietor. And for his troubles, he now lay dead or dying at the bottom of the stairs.

  “And the courtesan?” Tawny asked.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The woman looked to Risens.

  “Let’s just say my task is complete,” he said.

  That Essefan was otherwise predisposed was a fortuitous event, as the woman was unable to give a report of the death. In the cover of the shadows of the alleys, she had helped Risens carry the woman’s corpse, depositing it in the river. It was likely that the waterlogged body had already been discovered. Word would precede his following report to the King. His mission would be fulfilled, and his life would be extended.

  “I, for one, am grateful that you are here.” Tawny took the woman by her hands, though her eyes remained fixed on him. “Come. Sit. I’ll make you a cup of tea before I tend to our mutual benefactor.”

  The cloaked courtesan flashed Risens a peculiar look before shaking her head. “I do know how to boil water.” She smiled. “If I’ll be staying here for any length of time, it’s the least I can do to help.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Tawny responded. “I’ll show you around while he gets started.”

  Risens shook his own head at the meteoric shift in the tides. Upon their arrival, he had commanded the room, yet now he was left standing as Tawny and the mark he was meant to kill strolled hand in hand from the room. Running his hand through his hair, he stalked over to the pantry, collecting a bottle of the potent healing salve from the shelf.

  It was with difficulty that he unscrewed the tightly sealed cap before scraping out small amounts to seal the remaining wounds on his torso and legs. He’d finished as far as he could reach when Tawny returned. The woman trailed in her wake, a steaming cup in hand. Tawny motioned to her to take a seat at the small table opposite the medical cot and immediately got to work.

  “What happened to your arm?” Tawny began her methodical prodding before giving him time to respond. Her eyes remained focused on him as she manipulated his elbow and shoulder. It was through sheer will alone that he resisted the urge to cry out in pain, as the agony was excruciating. “Can you move it?”

  “Not well,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you seem to be having no trouble.”

  A slight smirk reached the corner of her mouth. “Take off your shirt.”

  Risens winced as he did as commanded, though he stopped before his Brand would be revealed.

  “Your ribs too?” Tawny asked once the truth became apparent.

  This time, he felt the warm touch of her hands on his abdomen as she helped lift his shirt.

  “That’s high enough,” he said.

  She glared at him. “Shy now?”

  Risens shook his head. “That’s high enough.”

  Tawny nodded, then continued to inspect his wounds. Each probing measure of pressure sent waves coursing through his chest. She shook her head disapprovingly with every hushed wince. She checked his ribs, grimacing as every break came to light. Bruises covered the entirety of his side. All four on the left had been broken, while a pair on the right would also need mending. Before he could stop her, she moved his shirt. Her hand paused as it reached his chest. Her eyes went wide as her vision darted from his body to his eyes. Peeking from the bottom of his rolled-up tunic was the corner of the Brand on his chest.

  Risens cursed himself for his complacency as he tugged the shirt down, covering his chest. Thankfully, the courtesan quietly sipping tea behind them had not seen the raised scar. He knew that the healer, as wise and talented as she was, wouldn’t know its meaning. None would understand the true implications. That he was Branded at all was a dangerous enough fact.

  To her credit, Tawny offered no comment on the matter. “You’ve had quite the day. Six broken ribs and deep bruising to your elbow and shoulder. At least you’ve tended most of the cuts, and any remaining look superficial.” With the salve close by, she circled him. When she began pulling his shirt up in the back, she whispered, “Don’t worry.” Then, as if further trying to convince him of her silence, she added, “This will only hurt a little.”

  She applied the ointment to the areas he couldn’t reach without the use of one of his arms. He clenched his teeth together as she pulled the imposing length of the jagged wood from his back before binding the wound. This time, her inspection was thorough while leaving his chest covered.

  “Is there anything else that might be broken before I bind these?” she inquired, moving back to the cabinet while she talked. “You’ll need to lie still for me while the healing solidifies.”

  “Thankfully, I have no other engagements to tend to for some time,” he replied. “I’m all yours.”

  She squinted her eyes, pinching her lips. “Lucky me. If only that were the case.”

  Mending his bones was a process he knew all too well, one he despised. The chill of the ointment lathered on his skin over the broken bones would turn into an agonizing fire once she started the healing process.

  “I know you’re not too fond of this,” she said, holding up willow bark elixir, “but you may choose it this time.”

  He rejected it as always.

  “This won’t be fun,” she warned.

  “It never is.” The elixir was designed to mask the pain of the follow-up procedure. Though pain clouded his judgment, the sedative effects of the tonics could prove to do more than just that. Should he find himself in such a mental state, he may share secrets he wouldn’t otherwise dream of.

  Risens reclined on the cot, discreetly holding his shirt over the Brand of the Avowal while Tawny worked his left arm out of the sleeve. He noted her gaze darting to the site of the marking from time to time as she gently massaged the primer over the broken bone.

  “Expect this to take a few hours, and the pain will be intense. Are you sure you don’t want the tonic? It’ll numb most of the discomfort.”

  “No, thank you.”

  He heard her mutter something about stubborn men under her breath as she rolled her eyes. Retrieving the rest of her supplies from the cabinet, she returned to his side. “When this is done, I’ll give you something to soak in to stave off any infections. The gods only know what you’re covered in. You smell awful.”

  As described, the process was agonizing. He had no understanding of how the healers melded the bone back together as they slowly moved their gloved hands over his body. As fascinating as it was to watch, it was nearly impossible through his tear-filled eyes and gritted teeth. Under his skin, the bones scraped together. The fires that merged them felt as if he’s stuck his hand directly into a flame.

  His focus struggled to maintain clarity as it battled overwhelming discomfort while keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings. He trusted Tawny with his life and care, as he had on numerous occasions throughout the years. His right hand squeezed the bed sheets until his knuckles turned white as another wave of agony followed the bone, dragging back into place. The courtesan, although the threats had kept her in check, was still a mystery to him. His current position was, to say the least, compromising.

  His jaw ached from the strain of clenching them together. When Tawny finished mending the breaks, she gently dabbed at the sweat that had formed on his brow.

  “You’ll need to remain as still as possible for another hour or so,” she said, smiling apologetically. Her reminder was gentle, losing much of the informality of her previous instructions.

  ” Thank you,” he replied.

  Her hand lingered on his shoulder longer than expected before she moved to clean up her supplies.

  Risens could still see her out of the corner of his eyes. The courtesan had remained seated throughout the duration of the procedure and did so still at its conclusion.

  Tawny returned minutes later. “If she’s to stay here,” she whispered, “I’ll need to know what to call her.”

  Risens ground his teeth both from pain and frustration. She was right. He couldn’t very well expect these two to share a room without a means to communicate freely. “Not your true name.”

  Tawny clapped, then turned. “My dear,” she said to the courtesan, “if we are to be secreted together, we should at least be on a name basis. I prefer not to be called healer the whole time.”

  “You can call me Marlaine.” Her voice was tentative and meek. The air of confidence Risens had during their first encounter had evaporated. If nothing else, his current position, helpless on the bed, likely had her convinced he posed no current threat. “It is my given name, yet I’ve not heard it in more than a decade. None would know it anyway. There are few in my profession who would even recognize me, and that is something that can easily be concealed and disguised by makeup or dye. Among my clients, even less so. Those who have purchased my time were focused, intent on other features beyond my face. I doubt many could even tell you the color of my hair.”

  Tawny let out a laugh. “This is a curse I well know.”

  Marlaine shook her head. “No curse. That’s how I prefer it.”

  “Very well,” Tawny said, bending low and placing her hand on Marlaine’s forearm. The moment that passed between the two of them was unspoken, but understood. “You can call me Tawny.” Her gaze shifted quickly to Risens, finding his eyebrows raised. “It is a name known only by the two people in this room. It divulges nothing.”

  That clever minx. Of course, she hadn’t shared her actual name with him. Were any of their interactions to be discovered, it would spell their deaths. He regretted putting them in undue danger, yet it was the healer’s insistence on his mercy that had driven him here.

  “And what should we call you?” Marlaine asked, peering over her shoulder at Risens. “Our masked benefactor doesn’t have the right ring to it.”

  Tawny smiled as their eyes met. “The Raven is a suitable name.”