“Where are we going, Lady Lou?”

  I grin down at the little beast of a girl, though perhaps that’s not a fair assessment these days. She’s come a long way from the savage girl I met on the road. I don’t mean the surface changes, like her well-fed body that’s no longer painfully thin or her neat uniform. It’s her eyes, shining up at me with unshakeable trust and devotion. Those eyes held nothing but rage and violence before.

  “We’re going to hunt for treasure.”

  Wonder brightens her gaze. I’m lying, just a bit. It’s not really a hunt for treasure if I know exactly where to go. Still, some mystery remains. As a senior member of the Traditionalists, Jacoby knows where the hunters’ legacy is located but he’s never peered inside. There’s true mystery there. I’m honestly excited to find out what’s inside and I thought I’d share that excitement with the kids; I can’t remember the last time they did anything for fun. Saints, any time they’ve done something for fun.

  Not that they’re the only ones who’ve been roped into the outing.

  The whole house, minus the succubi, are tagging along; even Nomad put off going to sleep. Geneva and Bell are also interested but they have to stay behind and care for my guests. Days like this make me glad that I sprung for a custom carriage in the capital. Things would be cramped otherwise, what with the extra bodies that need transporting.

  There’s a spot of business that needs attending before the highlight of the day; I’ve got two hunters and a rebel to drop off to the authorities of the city. The driver’s bench must be pretty crowded with five grown men situated on it. Anna and Earl, by virtue of being smaller and cuter than my other servants, ride with us, Earl sitting primly at one end of a bench while Anna is seated in Kierra’s lap. The sight inspires visions of the future, the elf cradling a child with purple eyes. Will she have my eyes? Kierra’s? Or some combination? That kid is going to be so special, it’s scary.

  I smile at the small bit of excitement that thought invokes, making itself known despite the mountain of worry and uncertainty that threatens to quash it at any moment. I didn’t feel anything like it a few days ago. It gives me hope that by the time Baby Lou is ready to come out, my feelings will reverse, the positive overwhelming the negative. No, I’m sure it will.

  “What kind of treasure?” Anna asks, practically bouncing in place.

  “Oh, there’s all kinds. So much of it, they had to split the hoard and hide it in several places. What we’re going after today is…” I lean forward, drawing the moment out. “Books.”

  I laugh at her comically disappointed look.

  “Books aren’t treasure.”

  “Anna,” Earl pipes up in a perfect scolding tone. “Don’t be rude.”

  She hangs her head. “Sorry.”

  I stop myself from saying it’s fine; I may be their guardian but I won’t kid myself by thinking I’m raising them, either of them. Earl…despite his age, I hesitate to truly call him a child. He may need guidance here and there, but he’s seen and done more than most adults, in the worst sense. Pain has a way of aging people, physically and mentally. And that was before I let my succubus have at him.

  She’s meant to teach him, and to do so without excessive pain or altering his mind forcefully, but I don’t imagine for one moment that it’s a pleasant affair. I only let it continue because it seems he’s the better for it.

  When it comes to Anna, I wouldn’t let Geneva put her finger anywhere near her brain. The succubus refuses herself, quoting the fragility of young minds. For her, the teaching is more literal. And when it comes to raising her, I leave that to her brother. He was willing to kill to secure her future. No matter how powerful I am, I don’t have the right to take those years of sacrifice and dedication from him. I refuse to.

  “Books aren’t usually thought of as treasure, but they can be valuable.”

  “What kind of books?”

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  “Are valuable? Let’s see.” How would a child understand this? “Imagine you had a book that…taught you how to make the most delicious food in the world.”

  “Better than the Miss Geneva’s?”

  “Way better. Wouldn’t that be pretty valuable?”

  “A treasure to spark the next Great War,” Earl comments dryly.

  “A book’s value is based off what’s inside. The books we are going to find have very interesting things inside them.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, they tell the story of the kingdom’s heroes.”

  She pouts. “They’re just storybooks.”

  “Yup. Just storybooks. But it’s interesting because they’re stories I’ve never heard before.” That few people have had the privilege to know. The story of humanity’s flight to this continent and the founding of Harvest. While Jacoby doesn’t know exactly what’s in the different caches, they have designations that are clues to their purpose. The cache that was taken was the Art cache and exactly what it sounds like. All the caches contain a handful of weapons and reagents for emergencies, but they have different focuses. The Art cache had art. Which would be uninteresting if it wasn’t art from the old kingdoms. That makes it endlessly fascinating and I’m a little annoyed that it’s already been stolen. Or worse, destroyed. Not annoyed enough to track the culprits down but if we ever meet, they’re going to have some explaining to do.

  That’s the first of four. It was also the most accessible, as it was used as part of the indoctrination of new Traditionalists; Jacoby thought some nonsense about it being a reward and a reminder of their duty, but it’s really just a bunch of kids hoarding hoarding all the best toys to make themselves feel special.

  The remaining caches are both more interesting and far harder to reach. Why the first guildmasters would want to keep their greatest power well out of arms’ reach is beyond me, but I can hardly criticize it. After all, it accomplished their goal of making sure the Authority went undisturbed for countless generations.

  At the camp, we leave the matter of delivering Sin to Grayskin and speed away before a certain fake seer can seek us out. Then, we ride past the camp, the carriage jostling us about as the mounts pull us along roads that are closer to dirt paths.

  At our brisk pace, it only takes us a few hours to reach our destination.

  Three quick knocks are the signal to disembark and I gratefully step out, stretching my limbs to the limit; I don’t get tense the way I used to, but there is something mentally exhausting about being crammed in a tight space.

  Our surroundings are entirely unremarkable. So much so I feel a wave of nostalgia; it reminds me of home. These days, home is where my lovers are, given how often we’ve been moving, but the small village I spent nearly two decades in will always have a place in my memories, if not my heart. Somehow, the simple buildings all arranged along one main road and the larger family homes in the distance bring me a strange peace.

  Though, it doesn’t seem our presence inspires the same. Gajin considerately parks the carriage outside the village, vaguely defined by a patchwork wooden fence I don’t imagine can stop more than a particularly lazy fox. It’s not a location that anyone would be interested in for any reason. That means the group of four men walking this way are interested in us. I doubt we’re more than hazy outlines to them, but I can clearly make out their tense frowns and the sword one of them carries, though he’s a bit too old to be swinging it casually. Retired soldier, I’d bet. I’d also bet the one in the lead, a stocky man with a balding head and a protruding gut, is the village headsman, put in charge for one reason or another.

  Hopefully, he’s just here to make sure the newcomers won’t make trouble and nothing more sinister.

  Earl is unloading our supplies from the back when the men reach us. Their frowns transform into confused grimaces the closer they get to us. I can imagine their thoughts; Kierra registers as a threat to anyone with survival instincts and Nomad is strange, but then there’s the kids. They couldn’t be a threat, right? And no one brings kids along to make trouble, right?

  My family is really unfair. How is someone supposed to see us coming?

  “’Lo!” the suspected headsman shouts, raising a hand in greeting.

  I step forward to meet them, Alana quietly following me. “Afternoon,” I drawl, doing my best to keep my judgments of them out of my voice. “Very welcoming place, this. We don’t usually get greeted the second we stop.”

  He laughs, but the sound is hollow. “We’re just a bunch of old dogs that still get excited when we smell something new in our pen. May I have your name?”

  “Isn’t it proper to introduce yourself first?”

  “Right you are! Odo Omarson, at your service.”

  Ah. A clan name. I thought they were further south? “Lourianne Tome-Delarre.”

  “A pleasure, your ladyship.” Amusingly, their tension both rises and falls; they relax their subtle aggression, but new anxiety pinches their features. “We don’t get many nobles this way.”

  “I don’t imagine you’ll get many more in the coming days.”

  “May I ask what you’re doing here?”

  “That curiosity of yours again?”

  “It’s a curse.”

  This is when it’d be nice to have the succubi around; a gentle prod at his thoughts to confirm he’s no secret guardian of the Accord would make me feel a lot better about him. Jacoby knew of nothing like it, but, given their record, I’m more than willing to believe that there are gaps in his knowledge.

  Ah, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter, not if this is the extent of the resistance they can put up. They might be lying but my ears aren’t when they tell me there’s no one waiting to ambush us and my eyes can clearly see their lacking physiques.

  “We’re here to see the Skybreaker’s Pit.”