Page 3 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

I should prepare mentally for what’s coming. Instead, I find myself thinking about Shade’s mother in the crypts below.

The Nightingale who gave up everything for love and lost it all anyway.

Shepherd steps through the door behind me. I sensed his presence a while ago.

He could pass for a man in his early forties despite the years and violence that have weathered him. The Dunethar don’t age like normal humans, not after drinking from the Fae King’s fountain of youth. Black hair silvered at the temples frames a face too refined for the guild’s underbelly. He looks like he belongs at court banquets rather than in blood-soaked tunnels. But the scars on his hands and the way he moves mark him as one of us.

He leans against the wall with arms crossed. The posture is casual but his expression isn’t. There’s something hard in his eyes.

Disappointment.

It makes my gut twist. He was the Nightingale’s second once, her Shadow Partner before she fell in love and tried to run. Now he looks after Shade, Kitty, and me as our Arbiter. He’s the closest thing to family any of us have left in this place.

“Two failures, Wolf.” His voice is stern, colder than I’ve ever heard it directed at me. “You know what happens at three.”

My throat tightens. I nod because I don’t trust my voice.

“The first task was understandable,” he continues. His gaze never leaves mine. “Torture missions break even the best of us. I argued for leniency with the Judges and told them you just needed time to find your edge again.”

I remember that mission. My hands were shaking when they gave me the tools. I couldn’t do it.

“But the second mark was supposed to be easy.” Shepherd’s jaw clenches. “A lonely nobleman, traveling without guards. You let him walk away.”

My target wasn’t alone though. He had a daughter. A little girl with dark curls who laughed when he lifted her onto his shoulders. The intelligence hadn’t mentioned her. I watched through the window as he read her bedtime stories and kissed her forehead goodnight.

The blade grew heavy in my hand.

There’s no way in hell I can tell Shepherd that.

“Why did you let him go?” he asks.

Because I saw myself in that little girl.

I saw what she would become if I took her father from her. Another lost child for the guild to break and reshape into a weapon.

“I don’t know,” I lie.

Shepherd pushes off the wall and takes a step closer.

“Wolf, I vouched for you.” His voice drops lower. “Do you have any idea what position that puts me in if you fail again?”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Another step closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re waiting for them to put you down.”

“I haven’t given up.”

“Then what’s wrong with you?” His frustration comes out harsh. “You were one of the best blades we had. Now you can’t finish a simple kill.”

I want to tell him that something broke inside me during that torture mission. I can’t separate the screams of my mark from the screams I heard when the hunters came for my clan. Every time I raise my blade now, I see my grandfather falling, the Sylverin pack dying.

But the guild doesn’t care about broken assassins.

“I’m worried about Shade,” I say instead, deflecting. “Sending him to Aelfheim—”

“Shade will be fine,” Shepherd cuts me off. “Shade will do whatever it takes to free his mother. He won’t let anything get in the way of that goal.”

“But—”