Fatefall - 34

Chapter 34 - Nakoa 

My imprisonment was symbolic. After all, what better way to cripple a rebellion than to take away the mastermind behind their fight for freedom?

“So let me get this straight,” Nakoa clarified, keeping her voice low. “You want to raid the hideout of a bunch of known assassins for any clue that they might have murdered your brother---with nothing besides a gut instinct behind your accusation. You don’t know what you’re looking for, whether or not the assassins will be there, or what you’ll do if you find proof. Meanwhile, I---the person with the superior Grace for this situation---will be waiting outside to be easily ambushed.”

Adrian nodded distractedly. “Seems good to me.”

“You do realize how stupid you sound, right?” Nakoa grumbled.

“Hmm? Were you saying something?” Adrian glanced at her, seemingly frustrated by the interruption.

Nakoa rolled her eyes. At this point, she’d be better off knocking Adrian out and investigating this alone. Her Grace would allow her to keep a watch on the assassins in real time while simultaneously searching the apartment. 

But no, Adrian was insistent that he should be the one to raid the apartment. 

They stood not-so-inconspicuously outside the assassins’ apartment as Adrian attempted to pick the lock on the door. Jett would’ve been way more useful for a job like this one. Or Poppy. Or even Sage, which was saying something.

“Listen, as much as I appreciate you actually telling me your plan, I really think this is a bad idea,” Nakoa said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help you---”

Adrian scowled. “I’ll be fine, Nakoa. Fates, this is why I didn’t want you coming with me.”

“Because I’m cautious?” Nakoa shot back.

“Because you’re a worrier.”

The words cut deeper than they had any right to. Nakoa’s mind flickered to her panic from the past few days and her constant pacing and fretting about…

She closed her eyes. The name felt like a brick to her face. No. It was Ansel. She wouldn’t allow herself to forget him or ignore his absence. Ansel. Ansel. Ansel. She chanted his name until the hole in her heart throbbed relentlessly.

Finally, she found the strength to address Adrian. “Recklessness gets a man killed.”

“So does hesitation,” Adrian countered. “If you don’t want to be here, then no one’s stopping you from going home.”

“I’d prefer not to see my teammate get himself killed and then have to forfeit the Tournament,” Nakoa said.

“Lucky for you, I don’t plan on dying,” Adrian said as the lock finally clicked open. He tucked the knife he’d been using into its sheath and gave Nakoa a smirk. “I trust you know your job.”

He disappeared inside the apartment a moment later, leaving Nakoa standing awkwardly in the hallway.

She sighed and pressed herself up against the wall, as though that would make her invisible. Her Grace automatically started tallying the seconds Adrian spent inside the assassins’ apartment. There was no immediate screaming or thumping, so Nakoa assumed that the assassins weren’t home. Either that, or they killed Adrian so quickly he didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

Oh, but worrying gets you killed, Nakoa’s thoughts reminded her.

At least if Adrian turned up dead, Nakoa would get to say I told you so. 

She briefly thought about using her Grace to try and scry for the assassins but thought better of it. Her attempts to search for Ansel using her Grace had left her nauseated and weak. It was as though something---or someone---was hiding him specifically from the Grace of Time. With no knowledge of the assassins’ appearances or whereabouts, Nakoa would be searching blindly. She would be exposed to an overwhelming amount of people and events.

Still, if she couldn’t scry the present, she could search the past.

Nakoa had yet to attempt a repeat of the trick she’d pulled during the first Trial, almost afraid it was a fluke. What better time to try it than now?

She covered her good eye with her hand and the world fell away, leaving behind an all-consuming darkness. Disappointment tinged with a momentary panic flooded her. Maybe the Trial really had been a one-time thing--

The first ghostly figures swarmed her so suddenly that Nakoa thought they were real at first. Her heart gave a stutter until she recognized that the apparitions weren’t real.

Five hooded figures that could only have been the assassins stepped out of the apartment. They strode down the hallway with long steps and it took Nakoa a moment to notice why the scene looked wrong; the assassins were walking backwards.

When Nakoa had used her Grace this way during the first Trial, none of the competitors had been moving backwards, so why was it changed now? Unless…

Unless she’d been watching time in reverse.

Maybe the assassins were moving backwards because Nakoa was watching time replay itself from present to past, so the assassins weren’t walking away backwards--

Nakoa bit back a curse, removing her hand from her good eye.

She hadn’t seen the assassins leaving the apartment. She’d seen them returning, which meant Adrian had walked straight into an ambush. 

A dozen thoughts bombarded her mind, making it hard to focus on the task at hand.

Why had Adrian not sensed the Graces inside the apartment? Should Nakoa run to get help? Was Adrian already dead? Would he suffer the same fate as Ansel? Could Nakoa use her Grace to track down Ansel’s captors? Or Asher’s killers?

She shoved all of the thoughts away. Adrian needs you. Focus.

Help was just down the hallway, but Nakoa didn’t have the time to wake up Poppy, Jett, and Sage when Adrian could be dying right now. If only she had Moose with her--

Moose! Nakoa had left him in the apartment, curled up next to Poppy. 

Nakoa patted down her pockets quickly, her fingers landing on the whistle her sisters had bought her last year. They’d saved up their allowance for a tiny whistle that supposedly only Moose could hear. Nakoa had no idea if it actually worked, but it seemed like it was worth a shot. She pressed the whistle to her lips, unsurprised when no sound came out.

If it worked, Moose would wake up Poppy begging to be let out and hopefully she’d be able to put the pieces together. If Moose hadn’t heard the whistle…Nakoa preferred not to think about that outcome. 

Swallowing her fear, Nakoa tucked the whistle away so she could unsheath her dagger. Rescue Adrian and don’t die, she reminded herself. Don’t worry about any extra investigation.

She twisted the doorknob and stepped into the assassin’s apartment.

Six pairs of eyes locked on her immediately. 

The assassin’s apartment was a mirror of what Nakoa was familiar with, and the effect was disorienting. Adrian was gagged and tied to a chair, blood leaking from a gash on his forehead.. The five assassins surrounded him, weapons now pointed at Nakoa. 

“See, I told you that the prince wouldn’t have come alone,” drawled the largest assassin. 

He knew Adrian was a prince, Nakoa realized. Could this man be Hunter---the assassin out to kill Adrian, who’d attacked Poppy? 

Nakoa lifted her chin, trying to appear unafraid. She just needed to stall a little longer. 

“Save your quarrels for the Trial,” Nakoa said, her voice surprisingly strong. 

The largest assassin---who Nakoa decided had to be Hunter---chuckled. “You forfeited any claim to peace when you trespassed in our apartment.”

“You cheated in the first Trial,” Nakoa countered. “Outside poisons aren’t allowed.”

Hunter’s grip on his dagger tensed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so I strongly suggest you never mention that again.”

Nakoa grinned. “The king will have your head when he finds out you cheated.”

“If I didn’t harm your little assassin friend, my boss would’ve done a whole lot worse to her,” Hunter argued.

Nakoa didn’t have a good comeback for that one. Over the past few weeks, she’d forgotten Poppy was an assassin. The girl had saved Nakoa’s life---and put her own at risk while doing it. She struggled to separate the Poppy that took her dress-shopping and sat by her side after Ansel’s disappearance from the Poppy who killed for a living and glowed with ungodly power. 

She caught Adrian’s gaze. His eyes were half-lidded, as though he bordered on unconsciousness. His mouth moved around the gag. Nakoa imagined he was probably warning her to flee. Fat chance, she thought bitterly, and then flung herself towards Hunter and his assassins.

Nakoa had one advantage: the element of surprise.

The assassins had experience, talent, weapons, numbers, and pretty much every other benefit known to mankind.

She lunged at Hunter with her dagger, which he easily deflected. Someone backhanded her across the face and she dropped to the ground, her head throbbing. 

Cold fingers clamped down on the base of her neck and a tingle rushed up her spine. 

Stop struggling. The voice was a tiny tug at the back of her mind. An itch that needed to be scratched. Nakoa stopped moving immediately and the flare in her mind disappeared.

Distantly, she knew there was something wrong. Her head wasn’t supposed to feel this way and Adrian was screaming through his gag and her body seemed to be obeying a will other than her own as she dropped her dagger and held out her hands for Hunter to bind them together.

You should offer to forfeit the Tournament, the little voice insisted.

Nakoa opened her mouth to state her surrender and her lips began to form the words but she managed to clamp down on her tongue just in time. What in the world was she thinking? Forfeiting the Tournament on a whim? The very notion was ridiculous. It was as though the thought had been planted in her mind…

The Grace of Soul, Nakoa realized. 

The Graced of Soul could manipulate the actions---and sometimes thoughts and feelings---of others. 

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste dulled the urge to follow the orders still burning in the back of her mind, a flare so bright it was impossible to ignore. Her heart thudded dangerously fast in her chest. 

Fates. Focus on anything else.

This will all be over if you forfeit the Tournament. 

What has Sage said about his parents’ Graces? 

Or maybe you could explain why you and the prince were trespassing?

Those with the Grace of Soul can read your soul---your innermost thoughts and desires. Just as the Graced of Deceit taste lies, the Graced of Soul smell secrets.

Perhaps you should promise never to speak of this meeting again.

Nakoa shivered, keeling over so her forehead brushed the cold floor. The shock of the temperature helped her recollect her thoughts. A headache pounded at her temples and she couldn’t tell which thoughts were her’s and which belonged to the Graced of Soul whose cold fingers still perched at the back of Nakoa’s neck. Nausea rolled through her stomach. She couldn’t fight the urges for much longer---she could feel her will grating against the will of the assassin behind her.

Something in the distance crashed. The noise broke Nakoa’s concentration and the dark thoughts seeped in like an arctic wind. Her mouth opened on its own accord as she prepared to surrender.

Someone barrelled into Nakoa’s side, knocking her to the floor and clamping a hand over her mouth. Her ears rang as her head slammed into the ground. 

“Nakoa! Nakoa, can you hear me?” The voice sounded like it was underwater. In fact, the whole world seemed to be miles away. She could hear the screams and taste the blood beading on her lip, but the sensations felt as though they belonged to someone else. All that Nakoa had were a few scrambled thoughts. 

“I’m going to try something,” the voice whispered in her ear. “It might hurt a bit, okay?”

Nakoa couldn’t respond with the hand clamped over her mouth, but she nodded anyway. She didn’t get a chance to brace for the pain before a sharp jab to the underside of her chin sent her flailing. 

“Sorry.” The voice was Sage’s, Nakoa realized. Her friends must’ve found her after all. “Pain is the only way to break the hold of the Grace of Soul.” 

Nakoa nodded her thanks, trying to catch her breath. It took a few seconds for her to gather her surroundings and ensure she wasn’t in any immediate danger. 

The apartment was a mess with one of the couches flipped over and the table broken in half. Sage stood above Nakoa with a sword in hand, apparently ready to defend her at a moment’s notice. Jett seemed to be in a similar position, supporting a half-conscious Adrian with one hand and brandishing a bloody knife in the other. Two assassins laid limp on the ground while another glared at Jett, clutching at their shoulder. The fourth assassin guarded the bodies of her fallen friends. As for Hunter and Poppy…

Nakoa could’ve walked across the tension between them like it was a tightrope. They stood only a few feet apart, Hunter carrying two wickedly-long knives while Poppy’s fists glowed with a dim, silver light. 

Fates. Nakoa hadn’t completely believed Adrian, Jett, and Sage when they’d told her Poppy glowed during the second Trial. But now…

Her village would have hailed Poppy as a living Fate. 

“Touch any of my friends again and I’ll show you what the Grace of Life can really do,” Poppy snarled. The warmth that Nakoa had learned to associate with Poppy’s joking tone and friendly smile was gone, leaving behind a mildly terrifying creature of hatred behind. 

“And if you try anything, I’ll skewer you and turn your fingers into little candles,” Hunter said, voice low. “So I’m afraid we’re at an impasse.”

“I beg to differ,” Poppy said. “There are five of us and three of you.”

“Two of you are barely awake and two of you probably couldn’t beat a Golden Guard in a fight,” Hunter said. “Therefore, since there’s three of us and only one of you, technically I win.”

“I have blackmail,” Poppy challenged, smirking. 

“So do I,” Hunter shot back, giving his own horrible grin. “You trespassed in my apartment first.”

“And you threatened to frame me for treason weeks ago,” Poppy said. “Let’s not fool ourselves here---you’re not supposed to know the younger prince is dead, implying that you have some sort of connection to the murder itself or someone who was involved with it. Either way, that makes you a wanted man, Hunter. Not to mention your criminal record.”

“Says the girl who’s been working with the boss since she was a child--”

“I have the prince on my side,” Poppy said with a vague gesture in Adrian’s direction. “Who is the king going to trust in this situation: some random stranger or a friend of the prince himself?”

Hunter’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “I could kill you all and be done with it---”

“Odds are, one of us is getting out of this alive,” Poppy said. “All it takes is one person to have an audience with the king. So let’s make this simple: we’ll all go our separate ways and agree not to interact until the final Trial. Enticing, right?”

Hunter scowled. For a second, Nakoa wondered if he would attack Poppy on the spot. Her muddled mind could still spot the way Hunter’s grip clenched and unclenched around the hilt of his knife. But then he sighed. Pursed his lips. Loosened his hold on his weapon. “Deal,” he agreed at last, much to Nakoa’s surprise. “But only because when the boss pays you back for betraying his wishes, your punishment will be a million times worse than anything I can muster up.”