The words of the captured mercenary replayed in his mind as he stood alone in the estate's courtyard. The man's smirk and cryptic declaration-"Closer than you think"-were mere shadows dimming Damien's outlook.
Amara wiped the blood off her daggers, her sharp azure eyes drilling into the bound man kneeling before them."He is trying to confuse you into some self-doubt," she said slowly, as if the warning were not already sour on her tongue. "That's what Elyas does. He feeds on your self-doubts."
Damien's steel-gray gaze stayed fixed on the mercenary. "Maybe? Or is it more?"
The mercenary laughed, his voice dry and raspy. "Oh yes, he watches, yes, he waits. You can be the predator, but you're just a group of prey to him."
Damien lowered himself to meet that mercenary's gaze, his face as cold and unyielding as his heart. "Where is he?"
The mercenary hesitated slightly before getting back to the same smile. "You will learn sooner or later. Or perhaps he finds you first."
"No more bloody games," Damien said, his voice lowered and filled with slow, great danger. "You have an opportunity to tell me where he is. Do not waste this chance of yours, or you shall wish you hadn't."
The mercenary hesitated, sweat beading upon his forehead as the words of Damien took form. He spat out some blood onto the ground, then muttered through it: "He's in the capital. Hiding in plain sight. But you'll never reach him. He's always a step ahead."
Amara stepped forward, daggers shining in the dim light of the courtyard. "He doesn't need to be ahead if we cut him off at the knees."
Damien raised a hand, stopping her. "The capital? What's Elyas's plan?"
The mercenary smiled toothless. "What's he going to do? Finish what Reynard started, but with a little more intelligence. You, meanwhile, have been diligently chasing him without noticing what's being built right under your nose."
By then, Damien was already getting up with a tight jaw. "Take him to the dungeons," he told the guards.
The soldiers promptly grabbed the mercenary and dragged him away, leaving Damien and Amara alone in the courtyard.
"Do you believe him?" Amara asked, crossing her arms.
"I don't have a choice," Damien spoke. "If Elyas is here locating himself in the capital, then that means he has already surpassed Reynard's rebellion. He is playing the bigger game."
"And we are just pawns of the game," said Amara bitterly.
Damien groaned and turned to look in her direction. "Not for long."
---
As vast as it was the capital, Winter's crown was the heart of the kingdom-great granite and iron with granite towers rearing skyward and mighty streets of adventure bustled with life that bore testimony to the splendor of that place. But beneath its brassy bloom were secrets, festering, rotting to the core.
Damien and Amara were supposed to enter the capital as traveling merchants, with veils shielded under thick cloaks. They were accompanied by Carys, who had offered to use her connections within the higher echelons of nobility to ascertain the whereabouts of Elyas.
The three reached the entry of the city just as dusk was creeping in in red gold. Noise and activity surrounded the gates: traders, travelers, guards-everyone seemed to merge into a wild hum.
"Keep your heads down," muttered Damien when they walked through the gates. "We don't know who's watching."
"Relax," Amara said, smiling at him. "You have me. I'm practically invisible."
Carys snickered. "Invisible? You are the last thing that comes to mind to describe an elephant waltzing in a grand ballroom."
Amara's smile widened. "You'll have to compliment me more to say that."
He would track them though in a show of disdain and with his eyes forwardly riveted. It would call for being jealous if indeed Elyas was actually in the capital.
Their first visit was to an old tavern that dwelled on the edges of a city like this: graveyard-gloomy, smoke-filled, and dens of spies, mercenaries, and numerous other characters wholly unfit for any honest walk.
"A delightful place," Amara said dryly when inside.
"Carys can get us some info from here." The statement paused to sweep a gaze across the room.
They settled under their hoods in a corner table and heard the weight of conversations floating in the air about them. This time gossip even began with stories of rebellion instigated by restless nobles, strange movements at the palace, and increasing dire tension that was darkening the city like a blot of storm coverage.
Carys almost immediately found someone she knew-a tiny wiry fellow with a scar down one cheek.
"That is Gerrik," she said faintly. "He used to run messages for Draemir. If anyone knows what Elyas is up to, it would be him."
Damien nodded. "Amara, keep watch. I would talk to Gerrik along with Carys."
Amara's lips split into a smirk once more. "It is finally time for that deserving break to come sit and chill."
Gerrik was not too much engaged in verbal exchanges, and he managed in that after a few gold coins were passed on.
"You want the chef, huh?" His voice was low and hoarse, sounding slightly strained. "Dangerous man. Definitely dangerous even in mention."
"And what do you know?" Damien asked, calm but forceful.
Gerrik looked around the bar nervously and leaned in to them. "There is talk of a meeting-a kind of gathering at the palace… Elyas' doing his magic to pull people into places where they have no business being."
Carys asked, "And who is attending the meeting?"
"Yes, the nobles, merchants, soldiers; everyone who's got power," Gerrik said. "Word travels; he's planning something big. Something that's going to change the kingdom forever."
Damien's teeth gritted. "When is this meeting?"
Gerrik hesitated but then shared in a hush, "Three days. At midnight. But you didn't hear it from me."
He took off with the pieces of coin, leaving Damien and Carys to find their way back to the table.
"Well?" Amara asked with a raised brow.
"Three days and Elyas is stopped," Damien said.
Amara's grin widened. "That should be enough time."
---
And so indeed, the next three days would be a flurry of preparation. Damien and his team, sweating under task and responsibilities, would gather every intelligence, figure out the palace architecture, and procure necessary disguises for infiltrating the place of the meeting.
Carys used her noble connections to get onto the grounds of the palace, while Amara scouted the outside for ways to escape.
Damien spent hours reviewing their plan, his mind racing with possibilities and contingencies. Elyas would be expecting resistance. But it would be their best chance to catch him off guard. He knew it.
---
When the night of the meeting came about, the city breathed silence like a corpse. On that night, Damien, Amara, and Carys dressed in disguise and made their way toward the palace via the guest-stream entrance of the grand gates.
This was a work of beauty in architecture, with the pomp-giddy interior halls and highripe columns of golden splendor. Yet below the surface, in the quietness, there was tension, a hint of nervousness, as if to signal intimations of an ulterior motive in preparation for the thing being gathered.
As the mob advanced, Damien picked out names familiar to his ears; nobles from Falcrest and Draemir, merchants who had capitalized on the rebellion, soldiers who sold their loyalty to acquire fortunes.
And then he found out.
He was close to the entrance in the head of the room, so that quite unmistakably defined his sharp features and confidence posture. He was in the best of robes; his every movement was under control.
Then, the steel-gray eyes of Damien were locked onto him, his jaws tight.
"He is right there," Amara whispered, now following Damien with her eyes.
"Stay close," Damien said, his voice low, "this ends tonight."
---
Such was the assertion with which Elyas commenced addressing all of them. The meeting opened. "My friends," he began, arms extended. Tonight is the dawn of a new era, the first of its kind; together we shall forge this kingdom into something stronger, greater.
And he could feel tightening of the moment in the air as Damien's hand grasped tighter on the hilt of his concealed blade.
Close up Amara leaned, speaking in a whisper. "What's the plan?"
"We wait," said Damien, "let him lay his hand."
Elyas went on spinning words with the gift of promises and power. But behind that, Damien could see the cracks: an overconfidence that even bordered on arrogance.
And then Elyas said the thing that made Damien's blood run cold.
"Of course, none of this would be possible without the assistance of old friends though," Elyas added, a grin gaining width as he stared at Damien. "Isn't that right, Damien?"
And those words hung in the air as the rest of them turned toward Damien.
Elyas's gaze was sharp as his own met Damien's, his smirk widening too now.
"Closer than you think," Elyas said softly.
The trap had been set-and with it, Damien would be at the center.