E.J.

A reflection caught his eye, the swaying of the dancer’s hips twinkling her onyx beadwork as she wove through the guests. He took in her ample silhouette, her fiery mist of magic radiating with her movements. Like an approaching snake, a plan began to slide into place.

As if sensing a predator, the dancer turned, horned headdress standing tall in the crowd. And though her features were covered, the pirate knew the moment her eyes met his, for a river of hot current smacked into him.

He started toward her, and as he did, his nerves buzzed in anticipation of what he’d do next.

Yesss, his magic cooed in delight at his daring thoughts, we are not cowards like they.

No, he agreed, we are not.

With a sure hand, the pirate removed his mask.

The warmth of the room hugged his already-warm skin. He took a deep breath in, the scent of freedom running sweetly along his taste buds. Those he passed stared with shocked whispers as they took in his features, the first of their potential kind to reveal themselves.

He dutifully ignored them.

His identity would not be his weakness here. Not like all these others who clung to their disguises and false securities.

Let them know me, he thought.

Let my sins follow.

He had already been called a monster. Why not live up to the name?

After all, monsters were needed to make heroes.

And Alōs Ezra would become the kind of monster who made heroes of all.

“By the lost gods,” called Larkyra over the raucous cheers erupting as the twin giants detangled themselves enough to come closer to Niya. “I’ll easily give you four silver so long as you get your arse up here.”

“Love.” Arabessa balanced beside Larkyra. “Never reward a rat with food when it’s already made a mess of your kitchen.”

“Rats are resourceful, hardy creatures!” shouted Niya. “And besides, I’d hardly call this a mess—”

A breath of quiet fell over the hall. Droplets of spilled spirits hitting the ground before—

Madness.

As if the destruction were the invitation the despicable patrons had been waiting for, a brawl erupted. To Niya’s right, a stocky woman in a parrot mask slammed her chair over a group she had been sitting with. Their playing cards flew up in paper fireworks.

A slim creature covered in chain mail flung their body into the wrestling crowd.

Niya sighed. She was officially the least interesting thing in the room.

How boring, she thought.

From the moment Alōs had won his seat at court, Niya had watched his quick rise to a high-ranking member. He was a viciously ambitious man, more slippery than an eel, but even so, Niya often wondered why he had broken such a treasonous law. Like the group had mentioned, Alōs Ezra was no fool. He would not have risked all that he had worked hard to gain without a good reason. Niya hated that she cared to know what his reason was.

She hated that she thought of him at all.

She hated . . . well, him.

Which is why I must put him out of my mind, she thought decidedly.

Whenever the pirate was brought up in their circle, it only had Niya replaying that summer four years prior, which ultimately had led to a very stupid, dreadful, and horrible night. A night that even Larkyra and Arabessa did not know of. And if Niya had her way, never would. She had hid all notice of her heartache and guilt from her family, turning it over and over until it remolded into a desire for revenge.

It was only natural they took Larkyra out for a hen night before she left. Still, Niya hadn’t thought it would end this early.

“We’ll all go,” said Arabessa.

“No,” protested Niya. “Let’s have another drink. Macabris is just around the corner.”

“I wish we could, but—”

“But nothing. You’re not even in your cups, little bird! We have both failed miserably if you’re not stumbling home tonight.”

“Darling, I cannot be sporting a headache and nausea in the morning. Darius’s and my carriage ride is long, and it will grow even longer if I’m forcing us to stop every few turns to empty my stomach.”

“When did you become so boring?” grumbled Niya.

“You mean responsible?”

“Same thing.”

Niya paused at the glowing entrance, a heaviness weighing on her chest. Nights like these, with them all out together free to play, were growing sparse now with Larkyra settled down with Darius. If she had known their evening was to end so soon, she would have . . . well, Niya didn’t know what she would have done differently. Except perhaps teased Larkyra more.

But secrets needed places to hide, and for creatures as powerful as Niya and her sisters were, it was best to hide in plain sight.

“The younger daughter, Miss Priscilla, was not so awful,” said Zimri as he leaned into his chair.

“You would say such a thing,” replied Arabessa. “She all but spoon-fed you your food, the poor lovesick child.”

“I cannot help how my charms affect those around me.”

“Is that what you call them? Charms? I always thought they were better described as annoyances.”

Zimri cut Arabessa a look, staving off whatever retort he wished to speak.