Blood of the Watcher (The Dark Ability Book 4) by D.K. Holmberg

before coming after them?
    Not his abilities. There didn’t seem to be anything about his abilities that scared them. Rather, his ability to Slide past heartstone and lorcith made him alluring. That was the reason they wanted him.
    It would have to be something big enough—or he would have to become someone frightening enough—to keep the Forgotten and Venass from coming after him. Maybe the secret involved his training with Haern.
    There was another option, one that he hadn’t put as much thought into, but as he watched Brusus, he recognized the threat the Elvraeth posed. If they could somehow convince the Elvraeth to recognize the risk from the Forgotten, or from Venass, they wouldn’t be in as much danger.
    Brusus stopped in front of a worn brick building. Like the rest around here, it flowed from one to the next, no real separation. Walls were shared between buildings here, and in some places the brick cracked and fell. He tapped on a rough wooden door with gaps around the frame, stepping back after he did.
    “Be ready,” Brusus warned.
    Rsiran focused on the knives in his pockets. At least that ability still didn’t seem limited. If it ever were limited, he would truly feel isolated.
    The knives tilted forward, ready for him to push them through the fabric of his cloak.
    The door opened a crack, and an older woman peered out. Her eyes were a darker green than most in this part of Lower Town, and her mouth wrinkled as she pressed her lips together. A faded gray scarf covered her head.
    In spite of that, Rsiran recognized his mother.
    “What do you want?” she snapped.
    “Miss,” Brusus began, stepping forward. “We have a few questions for you is all.”
    She glanced from Brusus to Rsiran, and he realized that she didn’t recognize him. In the time since he’d left home, his physical appearance had changed. Primarily due to the manual labor he’d done in the mines, and more recently, his work at the forge, giving him strength that he hadn’t had before, but he had also experienced much. No longer was he the same sheltered boy he’d once been, a boy who looked up at the Elvraeth palace and wondered why they were given the right and the ability to rule when he was given so little. Now he understood that they had taken that right, much like others wanted to take it from them.
    “Questions?” she echoed. “What kind of questions do you have? Are you with the constables?” She eyed Brusus’s fine jacket with the embroidery that ran along the sleeves with a splash of color not common in Lower Town, and then she looked to Rsiran, her eyes seeming to take in his cloak, the fabric much finer than would be found here. “Not constables,” she said. Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “The palace?” she asked with a gasp.
    Brusus frowned and glanced at Rsiran. “Not the palace. Please, we have a few questions is all.”
    She recovered quickly. “Then if not the palace and if not the constables, I have nothing to say.” She slammed the door shut on them, and a heavy lock slipped closed.
    “Well, that was interesting,” Brusus said.
    “She didn’t recognize me.”
    Brusus clapped him on the shoulder. “Rsiran, if I hadn’t been with you for the last few months, I’m not sure that I would recognize you.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Only that you’ve changed. Not just your appearance, though that has changed too. But the way that you carry yourself. You were plenty timid when we first met, afraid to upset your father and risk your ’ship. I think that’s changed the most.” A playful smile worked across his face. “Well, that and the fact that you’ve got yourself a woman. That changes a man plenty too.”
    Brusus pulled out his lock-pick set and unrolled it. He poked at the lock until it clicked and pushed on the door. It didn’t budge.
    “Didn’t expect that down here,” he muttered.
    “What?”
    “Feels like they placed bars into the ground. Not many with the know how or