Three weeks had passed since I last saw or heard from Theodore, and my heart ached painfully every day. I was certain Onyx was still seeing him. After a night of snooping as Theodore had called it, she would fly out the window the moment I fell asleep. When I awoke, her beak would be covered in berry juice, and I knew they were from no berries we grew. Why hadn’t he written to me again? Surely, he could do that at the very least.

I sighed and shook my head as I slid my sword into its spot on my back. Not hearing from him anymore was surely for the best. I walked into the kitchen where William and Isobel were both waiting for me with a meal of roasted duck and steamed vegetables. William was dressed in a matching black outfit while Isobel was sitting comfortably in her pajamas. “Ready for tonight, kitty cat?” William said with a wink as he took a bite of duck.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, preparing myself for a potential bloodbath as the three of us ate our delicious meal.

“Good luck, you two,” Isobel said. William and I each kissed one of her cheeks and then jogged to the stable to grab our horses. Storm and Charis beat their hooves against the ground and raced away from our home, expertly jumping over and maneuvering through overgrown roots as we made our way through the forest. When we reached the outskirts of Twinvale, we hid our horses in the thick brush and crept into the town, scaling a nearby building and allowing the shadows of the night to cloak us.

“Where did you hear this guy would be again?” William asked quietly while we leaped from rooftop to rooftop and kept our landings as light as feathers.

“In the warehouse just ahead,” I replied. I pointed toward a large, open building with soft, flickering flames from the lanterns held within it. I had watched this building for the past week, listening to the disgruntled merchants walking in and out and confirming that our next target was a man named Alexander Bolden, the tax collector of both this town, Rodenwhal, and Wildenburrow just north of where we are now.

We set our feet upon the thatched roof of the warehouse, and William skillfully removed a piece of painted boards to give us access to the trusses and rafters on the other side. I tested the first board, smiling when it didn’t creak beneath my feet, then climbed in and encouraged William to do the same.

I tiptoed through the trusses and followed the sound of muffled voices, thankful they became more clear the farther in I went. William stayed right behind me, as quiet as a mouse despite his large, hunched over form.

“This is ridiculous!” one voice shouted.

“I’m terribly sorry, Marvelo, you know this is out of my hands.”

“Out of your hands?” Marvelo spat. “Don’t feed me some ridiculous lie, Alexander! I know you’re the one who keeps increasing the taxes for us. You must stop this before you find yourself in a revolt!”

“A revolt is no concern of mine when I have the funds and strength to stop it.”

William and I shared a look, our eyes communicating what our hidden mouths could not. He silently maneuvered to the other side of the ceiling, away from the voices but still above the room we were confident held our target. He tested the boards below his feet, nodding to me once he found one he could remove without causing too much racket. The moment he nodded, I rushed away, just outside of where the room was, and jumped around a bit to cause enough noise to distract the people from within but not too much that it would scare them into leaving.

“What in the blazes is that?” Marvelo asked. “Are there rats in the ceiling?”

I giggled at the thought. Rats of a sort, perhaps, though not the ones they’d wish to find.

“All the more reason to raise the taxes,” Alexander said smugly. He’s making it easier to kill him with each sentence.

“I’ve had enough!” Marvelo yelled, his voice echoing up to the now open roof. I glided quickly and quietly to William’s side and surveyed the room through the opening.

Our target, Alexander, was an older man with thinning black hair, a large belly, and more golden rings than he had fingers. If pigs could talk, I think they’d dress and look like that. He sat at a short, wooden table and had a smug grin on his greasy face. The merchant, Marvelo, had his hands raised in the air in exasperation. I could see the worn seam and small, moth-eaten holes in his jacket. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear Alexander was no more after tonight. William and I exchanged a final glance and agreed to wait until Marvelo stormed out of the room.

The moment the wooden door slammed behind the poor merchant and shook even the ceiling beneath our very feet, we jumped down into the room. I rushed toward Alexander and shoved cloth in his mouth before he could scream. William tied the fat man to the chair before moving to stand in front of the door with his arms crossed.

I searched the man’s pockets, pulling out several letters and searching for the confirmation I always liked to find before killing targets. William watched me patiently while Alexander’s muffled screams turned to desperate cries. And just as I was about to tell him to be quiet, I saw it—the seal of the Council, a snake with a blade protruding from its mouth while it wrapped its coils tightly around a crown. I sighed, shook my head, and then whipped out a dagger and slit Alexander’s throat.

I cut him deep enough to where he died instantly, and as he took his last, pitiful, gurgled breath, I hurriedly pulled out any other treasures held within his pockets before the blood from his neck covered the rest of his body. William watched me patiently, waiting until I nodded to confirm that I was done before leaving his place from in front of the door and following me back into the ceiling. William replaced the board he removed earlier, and we left the warehouse the exact way we came, then found a comfortable, hidden spot on a nearby roof where we could watch who might come to recover the body.

I pulled off my cowl and flipped through the blood-splattered pages I’d stolen.

“So what’s this one’s name?” William asked while he smoothed down his brown hair.

“The Coin, I think. It seems he reported to someone called ‘The Accountant.’”

“These Council people and their stupid names,” William grumbled. “It makes our jobs so much more difficult.”

“That’s probably the point,” I laughed.

“Anything else of value in there?”

I shuffled through the pages and held my breath to prevent that metallic, coppery smell from entering my lungs as the crimson droplets threatened to ruin the words entirely. “A lot of these are addressed to someone called ‘The Messenger,’ but there’s not much that indicates where we might find this one. The Messenger just seems to be a go-between for the Coin and whoever he actually wants to talk to. There’s also someone called ‘The Hammer.’ The Coin has apparently been trying to determine whether an upcoming tournament is rigged in favor of the Hammer.”

“Tournament, you say?” William rubbed his chin. “I heard a few knights mention something about a hammer, I just didn’t realize it was actually a Council-related person. I think I know the tournament in question. We can take care of him there. I have enough time to qualify as a fighter between now and then. I know your disdain for fancy dresses, but it may benefit us if you and Isobel work together in high society between now and then. The majority of the people at the tournament will be from those snobby, noble houses. Maybe we can find more about the Messenger or the Accountant.”

I nodded, but I didn’t say another word as two men entered the warehouse with faces that told me they weren’t coming just to check inventory.

“Well, looks like we have a bit more work to do tonight,” William said as he pulled his cowl back down.

I pulled mine down, too, all while my mind raced as I thought of what I should do next.