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Book: Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three by K. L. Schwengel
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Authors: K. L. Schwengel
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whatever Berk couldn't. Ciara didn't flaunt her position as much as other Ladies of the Empire, but that wouldn't make her any less a target to those of lesser fortune, whose discontent with their own stations sometimes drove them to a blind hatred of nobility.
"You'll want to come back here during the Springtide Festival," Berk said as they strolled among the row of merchant shops that lined the avenue. "The shopkeepers try to outdo one another with decorations. It's better in the evening. They spare no expense in lighting their shops. Some even enlist magic users to create… "
He trailed off, his smile freezing as his gaze landed on a group of three men on the far corner. They stood in a tight knot, heads close together in quiet. Dressed in thick, travel stained, woolen cloaks, they looked too rough for this part of the city. They looked, to Berk's eye, like marauders.
The realization put his hand on the grip of his sword, even as he tried to convince himself that no marauder would dare risk coming into the city, especially not this part of it. Too close to the walls. Too many guards. The lower end, or the docks, where they'd only have to deal with the City Watch, perhaps. Still, to be caught anywhere within Nisair meant immediate execution.
"What's wrong?" Ciara asked, twisting her head to follow his gaze.
Berk gave her a quick smile. "Nothing."
"Which usually means 'something'."
"No, it doesn't."
Berk glanced toward the corner again. The men had dispersed, one going into a nearby shop, one heading back down the avenue, and the other crossing toward the residential area of the city. He blew out a sigh and relaxed his hold on his sword. Goddess above, just because someone wore a woolen cloak to ward off the chill didn't make them a marauder. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, stopping when he caught Ciara's concerned look.
"I'm fine," he said, before she could ask the question poised on her lips. He forced a bit of false cheer through the irritation, and resumed his role of guide with a gesture toward the cluster of baker shops down the way. "If you want a real treat--"
"Hold there, Guardsmen."
The order came from behind them, and Berk turned to find six of the Council Guard approaching. They were led by Captain Marshall. He had a few years on Berk, and was just highborn enough to feel entitled. He brushed past Jorny and Pehl to put himself in front of Berk, flanked by two of his men. The other three took up positions around them as though expecting trouble.
In the hierarchy of Nisair's assorted military factions, the Imperial Guard held the top rung with the Council Guard, a notch below, in all but their own eyes. As the chosen guards for the Imperial Mages, they felt they should be accorded more respect and a higher degree of authority than the Imperial Guard. In Berk's experience, none felt that more strongly than Captain Marshall.
Berk faced the captain, putting an arm back to tuck Ciara behind him. Marshall's eyes flicked her way, his nose twitching as though he smelled something offensive.
"She's to come with us," he said, drawing his gaze back to Berk, shoulders squared. "Stand aside."
"By whose authority?" Berk asked.
Marshall lifted his brows. He drew a folded piece of parchment from behind his belt and presented it with roll of his wrist. "The Council of Mages. Of course."
Berk flicked the paper open, and forced his expression to remain neutral even though his stomach clenched as he read the missive. It took him a moment to get past Warrant of Arrest printed carefully across the top, the listing of charges below included conspiring with an enemy of the Empire. Lord Vaedryn's signature flowed across the bottom, his personal seal, and the seal of the Imperial Mages, affixed beside it.
"This is absurd," Berk said.
Marshall somehow managed to glower down his nose at Berk, though he stood a handspan shorter. "It is not your place to question the Council. Step aside."
"What is it?" Ciara asked,
"You'll want to come back here during the Springtide Festival," Berk said as they strolled among the row of merchant shops that lined the avenue. "The shopkeepers try to outdo one another with decorations. It's better in the evening. They spare no expense in lighting their shops. Some even enlist magic users to create… "
He trailed off, his smile freezing as his gaze landed on a group of three men on the far corner. They stood in a tight knot, heads close together in quiet. Dressed in thick, travel stained, woolen cloaks, they looked too rough for this part of the city. They looked, to Berk's eye, like marauders.
The realization put his hand on the grip of his sword, even as he tried to convince himself that no marauder would dare risk coming into the city, especially not this part of it. Too close to the walls. Too many guards. The lower end, or the docks, where they'd only have to deal with the City Watch, perhaps. Still, to be caught anywhere within Nisair meant immediate execution.
"What's wrong?" Ciara asked, twisting her head to follow his gaze.
Berk gave her a quick smile. "Nothing."
"Which usually means 'something'."
"No, it doesn't."
Berk glanced toward the corner again. The men had dispersed, one going into a nearby shop, one heading back down the avenue, and the other crossing toward the residential area of the city. He blew out a sigh and relaxed his hold on his sword. Goddess above, just because someone wore a woolen cloak to ward off the chill didn't make them a marauder. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, stopping when he caught Ciara's concerned look.
"I'm fine," he said, before she could ask the question poised on her lips. He forced a bit of false cheer through the irritation, and resumed his role of guide with a gesture toward the cluster of baker shops down the way. "If you want a real treat--"
"Hold there, Guardsmen."
The order came from behind them, and Berk turned to find six of the Council Guard approaching. They were led by Captain Marshall. He had a few years on Berk, and was just highborn enough to feel entitled. He brushed past Jorny and Pehl to put himself in front of Berk, flanked by two of his men. The other three took up positions around them as though expecting trouble.
In the hierarchy of Nisair's assorted military factions, the Imperial Guard held the top rung with the Council Guard, a notch below, in all but their own eyes. As the chosen guards for the Imperial Mages, they felt they should be accorded more respect and a higher degree of authority than the Imperial Guard. In Berk's experience, none felt that more strongly than Captain Marshall.
Berk faced the captain, putting an arm back to tuck Ciara behind him. Marshall's eyes flicked her way, his nose twitching as though he smelled something offensive.
"She's to come with us," he said, drawing his gaze back to Berk, shoulders squared. "Stand aside."
"By whose authority?" Berk asked.
Marshall lifted his brows. He drew a folded piece of parchment from behind his belt and presented it with roll of his wrist. "The Council of Mages. Of course."
Berk flicked the paper open, and forced his expression to remain neutral even though his stomach clenched as he read the missive. It took him a moment to get past Warrant of Arrest printed carefully across the top, the listing of charges below included conspiring with an enemy of the Empire. Lord Vaedryn's signature flowed across the bottom, his personal seal, and the seal of the Imperial Mages, affixed beside it.
"This is absurd," Berk said.
Marshall somehow managed to glower down his nose at Berk, though he stood a handspan shorter. "It is not your place to question the Council. Step aside."
"What is it?" Ciara asked,
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