“Three,” Nora commented to Evie, who sat across from her in the small cafe they’d found a few hours earlier.

  “Really?!” Evie squealed.

  The siren lifted onto the tips of her toes as she leaned over the garden box anchored to the balcony next to them. Other cafe patrons tilted their heads at her outburst, but Evie paid them no mind. Nora scanned them for threats or anything that might give this mission some excitement, but all of the locals quickly lost interest.

  Damn, Nora thought as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Wait, I only count two guards napping. Where’s the third?” Evie inquired, and Nora lifted her head from where it was perched on her hand.

  “Look, over there,” Nora said as she gestured to the sprawling Pennyweather bank that sat like a massive spider across the bustling intersection. Its many halls and enchanted barriers lanced through the otherwise organic style of architecture that surrounded it.

  Dozens of guards patrolled its many grooves and crevices, some above on the roof while others marched along its patterned edges.

  It was secure, of that she had no doubt. But there were too many guards, and too little for them to do. It was the most common misconception she’d encountered as sect leader.

  Without purpose, without a clearly defined function, guards grow bored. Lazy.

  Nora privately reprimanded her sleep-deprived mind for nearly succumbing to the same temptation that inspired this little game.

  “Nor! The stars said a fourth guard is asleep behind that large pillar!” Evie exclaimed.

  Nora leveled a flat look on her copper ranked friend.

  “What? It’s not like I asked them for help. They just speak, and I listen.”

  Nora raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, don’t be like that. See, look, I can brood too,” Evie retorted defensively.

  The petite woman sat down with a loud huff and scowled fiercely at Nora.

  Nora couldn’t help but grin at the earnest attempt. Evie’s scowl deepened. A pitiful growl—one Nora was sure Evie believed to be intimidating—escaped from the young siren’s throat.

  The paladin’s grin widened, and the sharp edges of her thoughts dulled.

  Nora sighed heavily and returned her attention to the bank, though her mouth watered for the second time in as many hours from the crisp aroma of tart jellies and sea salt baked into the pastries this cafe offered.

  Evie wiped her chin of the powdered sugar left there from the fluffy doughnut she’d devoured just moments before.

  “You going to finish that, Nor?” Evie asked while she gestured a dainty finger at the final slices of buttered sourdough left on their marked wood platter.

  “Go right ahead, Birdie,” Nora replied.

  She surreptitiously touched the edges of her red lips, ensuring that her face was indeed clean of the rich jelly she’d requested from the baker. She lifted her tea so dark and steeped it could’ve been confused for ale to her lips and took a long pull as she watched the guards across the street.

  Five, Nora counted now. Gods, whoever runs this place seriously needs to check on the discipline of their warriors. Now, if they created a merit system where each guard could earn better patrols or gear by keeping others accountable, that level of competitiveness might be able to compensate for—

  “Nora!” Evie hissed, shocking the paladin from her thoughts. “There!”

  Nora turned her head, blinking out the boredom from her eyes as best she could. She followed Evelyn’s trembling finger, expecting to find yet another lax guard.

  She was wrong.

  Nora’s wicker chair groaned its protest as she leaned forward, unable to believe what she was seeing.

  “Lyla,” Nora breathed.

  As they watched, the Fateweaver paladin strode purposefully toward the bank, her golden armor shining. Nora cursed under her breath and leaned even farther forward to get a better view.

  Lyla approached the first checkpoint of six guards, with an additional two checkpoints with all sorts of impressive wards coating each one. Nora was sure through their hours waiting for that winter elf to show that no one—no one—got into the bank without being reviewed, assessed, and notated on some shared system. Despite the laziness they had observed along the periphery of this complex security, it was still airtight.

  No one got in without a card.

  “What are you up to?” Nora asked the air between herself and her venomous colleague.

  They watched as Lyla haughtily approached the entrance, only to be stopped by one of the guards.

  “What’s she doing here?” Evie wondered aloud.

  Nora’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

  Lyla’s conversation with the guard quickly escalated into a heated argument. Her gestures were sharp and aggressive, while the guard’s patience visibly wore thin. Nora and Evie watched as Lyla’s frustration boiled over, her voice rising in anger. Even across the busy crossroads of this Elysian district, Nora could hear the shrill edge of Lyla’s indignation.

  Gods, how she hated that sound. It had been used during her entire stay with the Fateweavers, often opening doors otherwise shut to those deemed unworthy. Where Nora fought and bled to be recognized, Lyla had always wormed her way in, whining and persuading her way up the ranks.

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  “She’s not getting in,” Evie observed, noting the guard’s firm stance.

  Nora’s loose black hair was tousled by the wind, and she tucked it behind an ear as she strained to hear the exchange.

  All to fit into the crowd, she realized a warrior’s braid might draw the wrong attention from those with discerning gazes.

  Two more guards stepped forward, redirecting the irate Fateweaver paladin away from the main entrance. Lyla placed a threatening hand on the pommel of her sword, and the guards went from barely tolerant to hostile in a single heartbeat. Three more guards slipped from the shadows, encircling Lyla before she could react.

  Nora had to admit: it was oddly satisfying to see the true coordination of this bank security put to work. All of the laziness she’d observed earlier was nothing more than a ruse, Nora decided. The guards who treated their job nonchalantly were plants for people like them who observed the exterior of this massive facility.

  Clever, Nora thought as she watched.

  Lyla cursed and—to both Nora and Evie’s shock and delight—raised a rather un-paladin gesture to the gathered warriors before she shoved them aside and retreated down the stairs of the birchwood fortress. Nora grazed a finger down the side of her greatsword’s sizable sheath, considering. Her expression became stony while her eyes followed Lyla’s sulking form reenter the lively streets of Elysia.

  “This is our chance,” Nora said, a plan forming in her mind. “We need to follow her.”

  Evie glanced at her, sensing the urgency.

  She swallowed hard and bit at her lower lip. Her green eyes reflected the afternoon’s sun, two emeralds filled with concern in the middle of that bakery.

  “Alright,” Evie said slowly. “But we retreat if the stars warn me, okay?”

  “Always,” Nora replied. And she meant it.

  Nora dropped a few extra coppers on their table, because damn had those jelly doughnuts been a shred of heaven. Together they slipped out of the bakery.

  Holding to the shadows as best they could, Nora and Evie blended into the crowd as they began to trail Lyla. The streets of Elysia were bustling with activity, the sounds and smells of the city enveloping them as they moved.

  Nora turned sideways and passed between two carriages drawn by horses coated with the rainbow scales of the merpeople. Instead of neighing, the prismatically colored hydrohorse blew out steam from its nostrils.

  She forced herself to focus and resisted the urge to brush a finger down the majestic creature’s long neck and sturdy chest. Behind her, Evie held no such reservations and openly petted the large pack animal. The beast shifted its long snout and blew a pleasant burst of steam into her friend’s face, who giggled like a child at the attention.

  “Oy, ladies!” the carriage driver yelled as he leaned off of his seat to address them. “If you love hydrohorses so much, go get yer own!”

  His massive woven hat reminded Nora of an umbrella, and it nearly toppled off to the side as he fought to keep his charges from ramming into the other carriage. Nora waved her apologies, and the two of them quickened their pace to find Lyla.

  “There,” Evie said, pointing.

  Nora turned in that direction, catching a flicker of a blond ponytail and the warm glow of gold. When she looked at Evie, though, her head was tilted to the side even as she hummed something under her breath.

  “What is it?” Nora inquired while her right hand brushed the pommel of her obsidian greatsword.

  “The spider brewed elixirs of life and glory,” Evie sang suddenly though her eyes brimmed with tears.

  Nora rushed for her tome and began to notate the verses. People walked around them, a few grumbling about the rudeness of tourists.

  Nora drowned them all out, eyes shifting between her book and the retreating form of Lyla. Unwilling to lose the latter for the former, she pulled Evie by the hand even while she continued to sing.

  “Her friends came from far and wide

  to drink and learn the roads to stay alive.

  But the spider grew tired of brewing

  And so she started brooding

  Life extended sought, but poison bought.

  She drank while they all died.”

  Nora’s skin tingled, and she fought to keep herself from trembling. Evie shook her head, and the glazed expression she bore dissipated like dew in the desert. Nora recorded the short verse quickly and then lifted her eyes just in time to see their target disappear down an alley to their left.

  As they hurried through the crowded streets of Elysia, Nora's mind raced, trying to process the haunting melody that had just spilled from Evie's lips. The siren's voice, though choked with tears, had carried a power that sent shivers down Nora's spine. She'd heard many of Evie's prophetic songs before, but this one felt different—darker, more ominous.

  Of all her options, Nora figured this had to be about the tournament. About Life, making her little mortals dance for her.

  The image of a spider brewing elixirs stuck in Nora's mind, a grotesque metaphor that she couldn't shake. She pondered the identity of the spider—perhaps a person, or even a deity. And those who came to drink, she speculated, could be participants in the tournament. The final lines echoed in her thoughts:

  “Life extended sought, but poison bought. She drank while they all died.”

  The words carried a weight of foreboding that settled in the pit of her stomach. Whatever trials lay ahead in the tournament, Nora sensed that they would be facing dangers far beyond what they had anticipated. As she guided Evie through the bustling crowd, Nora silently vowed to decipher the song's meaning. Their lives might very well depend on it.

  “Good job, Birdie. You can rest.” Nora squeezed her siren’s shoulder lightly, then replaced her tome in its protective case at her hip.

  The lyrics chilled her to the bone, made worse by the haunted eyes that they left in her best friend. Rage replaced her unnerved spirit, and a slow smile grew on her lips. It was a vicious, ruthless visage to behold, and a few pedestrians going in the opposite direction veered to the other side of the street.

  “Now, it’s time to catch a backstabbing bitch,” Nora muttered under her breath as she unsheathed her greatsword.

  She stepped into the alley first, expecting that behind every weathered barrel and chipping crate Lyla and her Fateweavers would jump out and seize them. But with each step, the only thing that greeted her suspicions was silence save for the soft pattering of rats as they raced toward a sewer grate. The leather of her boots scraped softly against the slick alley floor, her greatsword held close to her chest in a defensive form.

  “Nor,” Evie whispered hurriedly, her face growing pale as she tugged on the hem of Nora’s jerkin. “The stars. They are crying. Someone is making them scared. I think it’s—”

  “Enough of that, Evelyn dear,” A low and husky voice called out from the alley’s entrance. “You always ruin my fun just as it’s getting interesting.”

  Nora and Evie whirled to see the silhouette of a seductively dressed woman as she played with a curved ring shaped like a raven’s beak. More raven beaks clacked together as pendants on a long and dainty chain across her sizable chest. The woman sauntered forward, the sway of her hips honed to tantalize mortal and god alike.

  “Morana,” Nora and Evie whispered at the same time, the name more a curse than a greeting.

  “Me,” Morana stated with a cruel smile.

  With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the two of them like school children caught sneaking away from class.

  “It’s time we talked about your insolence, little Evie,” Morana droned.

  Ropes shot out from every direction in the alley, each aglow with blue flames as they wrapped around the pair of them. Nora’s greatsword swung in quick cuts, but the narrow alley made her usual grace and momentum impossible.

  Dozens of the wiry cords dug into their arms and chests, tightening relentlessly. Nora bellowed as Morana whipped the butt of a wicked dagger against Evie’s temple.

  Morana smiled lazily.

  “You’ve been very naughty, sister,” Morana said right as Lyla appeared behind them, arms crossed as a triumphant grin spread across her face.

  “It’s time we brought this heretic to justice, don’t you think?” Lyla spoke, all of her earlier frustration and rage gone like the mask it had probably been.

  This was a trap—one Nora didn’t even see coming. She had underestimated Lyla, and it was a mistake that could cost her and Evie’s lives.

  The last thing Nora saw as a steely wire choked her into oblivion was that smile—the smile of a spider who had just caught her prey.

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