Assassin of the Damned (Dark Gods) by Vaughn Heppner

asked.
    I’d followed her into a nearby chamber. Silver water spewed from a fountain and tinkled like chimes into a wide basin. Shadowed archways tempted me with mystery; we’d moved in a maze to arrive at this chamber. I was determined to learn as much as possible before I decided on my next move.
    The priestess regarded me from within her hood. It was full of shadows, and I began to wonder if she lacked features.
    “We’ve waited a long time for your arrival,” she said.
    “We?” I asked.
    She laughed softly. “The Moon Lady and her maenads.”
    I nodded.
    “You’re filthy from your journey,” she said. “You must bathe and don proper clothing. Then we can complete the ceremony.”
    “Which one is that?”
    “Your pledge of soul.”
    “Ah,” I said.
    “Do I detect hesitation?”
    “Madam,” I said. “If you detect hostility, it’s because of the rush of events. I’ve just arrived after a painful journey. It has taken much longer than I anticipated. Certainly, I desire a bath and garments worthy of my station. Then I must gather myself and learn what has transpired in my absence.”
    “You serve at the Moon Lady’s bidding,” she said.
    I inclined my head even as I plotted. If I had pledged service to evil before, I would foreswear myself in an instant. Had I somehow brought this state upon myself?
    “Surely you understand the concept of pledging,” the priestess said. “As prince, you must have often taken fealty. Is that the correct term?”
    “It is,” I said, wondering that she needed to ask.
    “Do you have the coin?”
    “It’s secure.”
    The priestess inclined her head. Then she laughed in her superior manner. “You’re playing a role. No. You no longer need pretend here. You’re the Darkling, the Moon Lady’s chosen instrument. These are dangerous times. One misstep…well, I needn’t tell you about that. Old Father Night’s minions abound and they’ve waxed powerful on death. They are fat with spells and they’ve become bloated with arrogance.”
    “Magi Filippo learned about the folly of arrogance,” I said.
    “Who?”
    “A minion of the Lord of Night, the one patrolling around your castle.”
    “That one,” the priestess said, with a flick of her fingers. “He was a gadfly.”
    “Ofelia feared—”
    “Yes!” the priestess said. “Why did you ride in with her? I fail to grasp the need.”
    I smiled because I had no idea how to respond.
    “Have a care,” the priestess warned. “You may be the Darkling, but the Moon Lady will punish you if you snub her maidens.”
    “Madam, there is no snub intended. I thought it obvious why I rode in with the gravedigger.” Nobody liked to be thought a fool. They even less liked to look like one. I suspected priestesses of the Moon were no exception, nor was I wrong.
    “Hm,” she said. “I see. I suppose you thought it clever.”
    I allowed myself a broader smile.
    “Yes,” she said, “and you wished to strike back at Erasmo della Rovere.”
    My features stiffened and I took a menacing step closer.
    The priestess chuckled. “Did you think I didn’t know?”
    Guile, guile, I needed to use guile. I nodded brusquely.
    “He suspects, of course,” the priestess said. “Why otherwise leave a minion on patrol?”
    “Magi Filippo?” I asked.
    “It’s a false name. We both know that.”
    “Yes,” I said. “He called himself Filippo and wore a medallion of the Cloaked Man.”
    “Did he?” she said. “Erasmo must be more worried than I’d realized. What did you do with the medallion?”
    “I left it.”
    “On the body?” she asked sharply.
    I shrugged.
    The priestess began to pace. She shook her cowl. “Rash. Did you slay his bondlings?”
    “Most.”
    “Oh, rash, very rash,” she said. “You mustn’t let your enmity blind you to reality. The Lords of Night are drunk with death. They expand exponentially because of it. We hope they overreach and quarrel among themselves. But it was rash to tweak Erasmo’s