Vengeance by Kaelci

Author:Kaelci
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: B.M. Matthews

Chapter Seventeen

Lyria had thought Astana was a chaotic city; Harclyffe Cove was worse.

Thousands upon thousands of people crowded the streets, shouting and cheering as a hundred women pranced past in perfect symmetry, their bared breasts painted all the colours of the Aethya. The bodily artwork shimmered and shone beneath the setting sun as the women whirled and twirled in a dance that wouldn’t look out of place in the Gods’ realm, a dance that could be performed by Esraelle’s Aethyarean demons, and she stared, mesmerised by the abundance of life and revelry. She had never seen anything like it.

Thrumming music rose up from the pavements and shook the streets, filling all bodies with a vigour previously unimagined, and the rhythm vibrated through her veins and unsettled her stomach. A group of eight men yelled over the heavy beats and cheers then pushed at one another, their feet and fists flew into one unlucky man who transformed into a bloodied, misshapen pulp before her eyes, and she quickly averted her gaze before anyone could see her shock.

It had barely been ten minutes since she had entered the city and that had been the second quick and nasty brawl she had witnessed. That did not bode well.

Another troupe sashayed past. Their identical red dresses were skin-tight about their chests and then billowed at their waists, revealing lacy undergarments with each spin they spun. They caressed their breasts and coaxed their nipples to perk upright as their hips swayed with the beat, and then male dancers wearing only trousers joined in, lifting the women and raising them into the sky. Across from the troupe, a dishevelled woman with hair as white as ice lilies crept up behind a young man and placed a small blade against his throat, then kissed his cheek as, with a trembling hand, he handed over a small coin-purse.

Acutely aware of the weight of Andru’s purse in her pocket, Lyria swallowed uneasily and stepped back into the crowd, forcing a nonchalance as she hurried into the lesser populated back-streets.

Andru’s parchment had directed her to meet with his Watcher, Nicolas, in a tavern on the eastern outskirts of the Cove. The tavern was described as one of the few stone buildings in a city of wooden constructs, was titled ‘The Shrieking Fart,’ and she would recognise Nicolas by his long black hair, thin, pale frame, and golden bracelet akin to the one she had been given, the bracelet that would in turn note her as one of Andru’s people.

She fingered the smooth metal as she swept through the unfamiliar streets, hoping to find Nicolas in record time so she could unfasten the damned thing. It was just as she thought — the pretty bracelet stifled her own abilities and she had never felt more unsafe in her life as she followed the cracked and broken pavements, passed buildings cursed with rot and disrepair, and hurried past the filthy non-celebrants as they sat on the paths and leered at her with broken teeth.

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