The emptiness of the King’s Exposition was complete. Not a soul moved anywhere within the range of Risens’ vision. For a pleasant evening, the desolation would have been alarming if not for the earlier events. Even the castle walls, looming overhead, seemed eerily devoid of the regular motion of patrols.

  Keeping his head low to disguise the Shadows Shroud, Risens covered the ground to the entrance of the hedge maze at an up-pace, yet casual-looking walk.

  Even knowing the reasoning behind the abnormal quiet that permeated the city, he felt the tingle of apprehension as he crossed the edge of the market square. It was as if the entirety of Windwake had vanished in the span of the afternoon, leaving him alone. Risens enjoyed the quiet. This was too quiet.

  He ducked into the cover of the hedge maze. After all these months without rain, even the grounds of the castle were finally beginning to show signs—the bushes were brown and crackling, no longer vibrant with green life.

  As quiet as it was outside the confines of the maze, he immediately noted the unnatural silence within. As if crossing an unseen border between the walls of leaves, all traces of sound vanished. The stillness that festered here carried even to the small creatures that thrived among the vegetation. He’d used this entrance countless times throughout the years, both in the daylight hours and in the dark depths of night, yet always, constant was the buzz of the insects that accompanied his journey.

  His progress stopped a few meters in, even before making the first turn. That something was wrong—far more than just the disgust and discontent of the city—he was certain. He knew the tingle of apprehension. He’d felt it when crossing into the sprawling entryway before the Gilded Cage.

  The lingering residue of magical protection.

  This had never been a construct of the maze’s protections. In light of the discovery of the documents at Lady Myrenas’s, was this protection applied as a new cover? He discounted the theory as quickly as it flashed through his mind. The feeling of magic was clear and distinct in its evidence. This was subtle, discrete, something crafted to avoid detection.

  Had this been the work of the Magus Pol, why would it have been placed over the entire maze? The silence over the entire area would have been alarming to even the most untrained civilian. This was something more.

  This was a trap.

  The questions darted through his head as he reached for his blades.

  Set by who?

  For whom?

  To what end?

  The hedge maze was split into segments: one simple version made for the public and one far more complex, used by the King’s assassins and those who required unseen entry into the castle. The distinct yet overlooked divisions were by no means the only means of subverting the confusing angular pathways. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled the Raven Talons from their sheaths, the blades slipping silently into his hands.

  To his surprise, matching symbols flared into view in the bottom corners of his vision. Stalking a step forward, he silently re-sheathed the talon in his left hand. The corresponding symbol vanished from view. Each weapon, it seemed, was bound by its own restrictions.

  He redrew the weapon, intending to be fully prepared should an ambush be lying in wait.

  The walkway that wound through the maze was purposefully designed, with off-center stone surrounded by carefully manicured grass. Typically, there were few signs anyone traversed the twisting pathways, yet today the grass between the stones was noticeably trampled. The Exposition had cleared rapidly at the conclusion of the execution. However, he doubted that revolting display would have spurred a sudden charge to lose oneself in the winding shrubs. More likely, he guessed, faces green with disgust, they had lost themselves in drink.

  Risens made the conscious decision to leave the Shadows Shroud in place. If the trap to be sprung were assassins sent by the king, it wouldn’t matter what he wore, for either he or they would perish. Either way, he would never be allowed to enter the castle or his quarters again.

  A glance at the stone tiles inset into the pathway showed the spray of loose earth that had seemingly been scattered across each. Whoever had set the trap had thought to give themselves an early alert of his arrival. He knew that, to the trained ear, even the slightest crunch of pebbles underfoot could spell his demise.

  He would prove them wrong. His dark thoughts were accompanied by a peculiar prickle from the talons in his hand. The weapons were anxious.

  Ready to hunt.

  His keen mind had already begun to identify the likeliest areas for an attack. The first corner, though they’d set the warning on the tiles, would not be it. They would want him to be well within the confines of the hedges. With the easy exit at his back, they would have no means of trapping him and little hopes of surrounding him. He would vanish into the city beyond or make enough noise to alert the guards that manned the turrets above.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He rapidly ran through the twists and turns of the hedges in his mind. The most reasonable area for an ambush, were he to have been the one to set it, was a dozen meters in. Here, at the first intersection, the main track twisted back on itself. The three adjoining paths did the same, leaving an easy zone for multiple people to hide, attacking from myriad sides instead of one. Even a simple wound here would hinder any chances for his escape.

  That there was a magus involved in the trap caused him the most significant concern. The barrier of the warding that dampened the sound here was gentle, reflecting the application of one who was strongly versed in the arts. Risens would be naive to think that one as accomplished as this job required would have relegated themselves to a single skill. They could be an extremely finicky and dangerous bunch when provoked. To establish and maintain a ward as potent as this, they needed to be nearby, actively working to feed power into the application.

  From the little he had studied of the magical arts, he knew the extra step was unnecessary for the casting itself. Even beginners could draw a limited ward or enchantment. Beyond the initial output and purpose, the spell would carry on for a determinate amount of time after its origin but quickly lose potency as it waned. The extra attention—the finishing, as it was called—used to heighten the efficacy was one utilized only by those who’d mastered the craft. He understood that neither their loyalty nor their services were earned without great expense.

  That the present magus expected his coming hinted that the first assault would likely be of a magical nature.

  Risens felt the uncontrollable pull of the corner of his lips. He knew this magus better than any who might be sent against him. It was he who would die first.

  The talon quivered gently in expectation.

  Peering cautiously around the first corner, he shuffled across the gap, leaning his back against the dry, leafy wall. He sank slightly into the yellowing bushes, though not enough to hide his figure. Carefully pushing his free hand through the vines, he grasped at the narrow handle he knew was concealed within. Risens winced, expecting a click that normally sounded like thunder to his ears, as he twisted the lever; though thankfully, the panel opened silently inward.

  The hidden passageway concealed within the rows of the hedge maze covered most of the distance from the start to where the mageLocked door allowed passage to the final section. The afternoon had slipped into early evening, yet scattered streaks of light streamed through the concealed gaps in the leaves. It was dark, musty, and utterly devoid of life. The dust-strewn floor confirmed that none had tread on the hard-packed earthen passage for ages. There were only a few he knew who had ever known of it, and all but he had been dead for years.

  The walls of the hidden pathway through the maze were constructed of a rigid metal frame supported by a perpendicular grid-work of well-aged wood. He had no concept of what process cured the planks, but the fact that they had remained unchanged since his first experience here in his youth spoke to the genius of it. The naturally growing vines that covered it were hardy and thankfully, needed not the touch of a human hand.

  There were several exit points scattered throughout the maze, the last of which emptied fairly close to the inner section. Still out of view from the end, it would only lead to the general vicinity of the door were someone to stumble into the discovery.

  Now, he stalked, his eyes trained on any motion from beyond the foliage. He shook his head as he found the first of the assassins exactly where he expected them to be. The magus stood with his back to the wall, his eyes closed in concentration, while a second man lurked at the corner a few meters ahead, blade in hand. Ducking lower, Risens wriggled noiselessly past, staying close to the ground to prevent any chance of his shadow being spotted through the leaves.

  The path curled wide around one side of the epicenter where he assumed the trap would be set. Though he had no count of the others, no doubt lurking along the opposite alleys, he identified three men with blades and one magus. Knowing the space afforded by the hedge maze and their positioning, he hypothesized that another four lurked on the opposing side.

  Eight men for a single, unsuspecting target was generally not a fair fight.

  Had he not noticed the deception, had he stumbled into their midst unaware, he wouldn’t have had much of a chance of surviving the ensuing attack from the magus and the melee that would follow. Even were he to fight the same number and configuration in the open fields of the Great Exposition, it would have been a close thing.

  To his mind, the silencing ward had been a mistake. It had been a giveaway to a mind trained to seek out the extraordinary. Had he entered the maze without the magical display in effect, he would have continued forward unawares and indeed fallen into the hands of his enemies.

  Through the leaves, there was no telling who these men were, nor—more importantly—who they worked for. He doubted that any of them would carry anything identifiable on their persons. They had the appearance and attitude of professionals. No anxious fidgeting, no obnoxious banter that would unwittingly betray their positions. Dark cloth masks covered their faces, while the slight bulge of thin leather armor was clean under their nondescript tunics. They were well-prepared and well-funded. If it was he they wanted, they were also well-informed.

  Too well.

  Either they expected him to return using this path this night, or they guarded all the known entrances with the same level of cunning and discipline. Had they known he was out tonight or merely guessed correctly? A shiver rumbled through him as he considered the possibility that they had followed him to or from the Raven’s Court.

  Risens was always diligent in covering his tracks and concealing his identity. He watched his surroundings, never following the same path twice, though his trips to the run-down, forbidden shrine had been frequent. He cursed himself for his predictability, knowing he would need to be far more cautious in the future if he made it out of this alive.

  With the anger mounting into an inferno that threatened to set the hedges ablaze, he retraced his steps, stopping several paces behind the magus. With his eyes closed, the man mouthed a silent incantation, carefully maintaining the perfection of his quieting spell. Risens, however, was confident his focus on the casting didn’t disuade him from his awareness of his surroundings.

  They were prepared to spring their trap. It wasn’t belief in Risens’ incompetence that fueled their numbers, but understanding, possibly even respect.

  If they knew where he was, he was sure they knew who he was, at least by title.

  He was the King’s Rightmaker.

  It was not a station bequeathed without merit.

  Respect. Knowledge. Intention. They had all of it, but were missing one crucial factor.

  Fear.

  He would make them pay for their ignorance.