Страница 22 из 140
Chapter 4
I inhaled slowly and evenly in the darkness. Tension built in my muscles. “Now,” came the order.
Spi
“Now what?” came the low voice.
“I cry and beg for my life?” I suggested.
A quiet laugh answered. “That would only work if someone wasn’t intent on killing you.”
“Shame,” I murmured.
Then I moved.
Grabbing the wrist of the hand that held the blade, I twisted the arm away from me as I stepped in. A sharp gasp brought a savage smile to my lips. I pressed my fingers into the tendons, right in that spot. The entire arm spasmed as the fingers opened on reflex, and the hilt of the short sword dropped into my hand. I dipped low and kicked out, planting my booted foot into a leg. A heavy body hit the floor with a grunt.
I leveled the sword on the prone body as I reached up and tugged the blindfold down. “Was that a sufficient response?”
Sir Braylon Holland was sprawled across the stone floor of the west tower. “Quite.”
I smirked, tossing the thick braid of hair over my shoulder.
Groaning under his breath, Sir Holland rolled to his feet. Born at least two decades before me, he appeared much younger since there wasn’t a single crease in his deep brown skin. I’d once heard him tell one of his guards who’d asked if he’d summoned a god in exchange for everlasting youth, that his secret was to drink a fifth of whiskey each night.
Pretty sure he’d be dead if he drank that much.
“But your aim is lacking,” he said, dusting off his black breeches. Absent of the obnoxious gold and plum uniform of the Royal Guard, he looked like any other guard. I’d never seen him in the finery. “And in need of much improvement.”
Frowning, I turned to where the dummy was propped against the wall. The sad thing had seen better days. Cotton and straw leaked from numerous stab wounds. Its linen shirt had been replaced many times over the years. I’d stolen this one from Tavius’s room, and it hung in shreds from wooden shoulders. The burlap head, stuffed with more straw and rags, flopped sadly to one side.
Sunlight streamed in from the narrow window, glinting off the handle of the iron dagger protruding from the dummy’s chest. “How is my aim off?” I demanded, wiping a hand across my sweat-slick brow. The summer…it was steadily becoming unbearable. Last week, an elderly couple had been found in their tiny apartment in Croft’s Cross, dead from heatstroke. They weren’t the first, and I feared they wouldn’t be the last. “You said to aim for the chest. I hit the chest.”
“I told you to aim for the heart. Are hearts typically on the right side of the body, Sera?”
My lips pursed. “Do we really think someone would survive taking a blade to either side of the chest? Because I can tell you that, no, they would not.”
The look he shot me could only be described as unimpressed as he took the sword from my hand and started for the dummy. It was a look I was unfortunately quite accustomed to.
He gripped the dagger and pulled it free. “They wouldn’t recover from such a wound, but it wouldn’t be a quick death nor an honorable one, and it would bring dishonor to you.”
“Why should I care about giving an honorable death to someone who just tried to kill me?” I asked, thinking that was an incredibly valid question.
“Several reasons, Sera. Do I need to list them for you?”
“No.”
“Too bad. I like hearing myself list things,” he replied, and I groaned. “You, my dear, live a dangerous life.”
“Not by choice,” I muttered under my breath.
One eyebrow rose sardonically. “You are not protected like Princess Ezmeria,” he stated as he crossed to the wall opposite the small window, where numerous weapons were stored. He placed the sword next to heavier, longer ones. “No Royal Guards are assigned to watch over your chambers or keep an eye on you as you run wild throughout the capital.”
“I do not run wild throughout the capital.”
The look he sent me this time said that he knew better. “Many of the people may not realize who you are,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t some out there who have heard rumors of your existence and have figured out that you are no handmaiden but carry the Mierel blood in your veins,” he continued. “All it takes is for one of them to tell someone who thinks they can use you as a means to achieve what they want.”
My jaw clenched. There had been two in the past three years that’d somehow learned that I was, in fact, a Princess and attempted to kidnap me. That hadn’t worked out well for them, but their blood wasn’t on my hands.
It was on Tavius’s, who I strongly believed had been behind the rumor.
“Not only that, it’s only a matter of time before the Vodina Isles Crown learns of their Lords. They will attempt a siege.” He faced me. “You will just be another body they cut through to get to the Crown.”
I was already just another body around here. One that was mostly ignored. But whatever…
“And then there is the heir,” Sir Holland stated flatly. “Who is still extremely angry over what happened in the stables last week.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still upset with him for whipping that horse because of his foolishness and lack of skill,” I retorted. “Every time I see him, I want to punch him again.”
“While his behavior towards that animal was abominable, blackening the Heir of Lasania’s eye and then threatening to use the whip in the same ma
“But it was the most satisfactory,” I said, gri
He ignored that. “The Prince should’ve already ascended the throne by now. If it weren’t for Princess Kayleigh becoming ill and having to return to Irelone, he likely would have.” He looked over his shoulder at me, his hickory-hued eyes boring into mine as I quickly wiped the grin from my face. “Something I’m sure you had nothing to do with.”
“Princess Kayleigh is very ill and had to return home to be cared for. Tavius could’ve chosen another as his bride. However, he’s too lazy to ascend the throne and have, you know, responsibilities beyond being a drunken, lecherous pig. So, he’s going to delay marriage for as long as possible.”
“And I suppose Princess Kayleigh’s sickness had nothing to do with the potion you acquired that made her skin pale and her stomach unsteady?”
I kept my face perfectly blank. “I have no idea what you speak of.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Lies, a shadowy voice echoed in my thoughts. I desperately ignored it. Like I had for the last two weeks, since the night I stood in the study of the townhome. “How do you even know about that?”
“I know more than you think I do, Sera.”
My stomach tumbled a bit. Was he talking about when I actually did run a bit wild through the capital? Namely at The Luxe? Gods, I hoped not. Sir Holland wasn’t exactly a fatherly figure, but still, the idea of him knowing about the time I spent there made me want to vomit a little.
I couldn’t even consider that, so I pushed it from my thoughts. “I can handle Tavius.”
“Barely,” he replied, and I stiffened. “And only because you’re faster than he is. One day, he’ll get lucky. You won’t be fast enough.” Sir Holland’s features softened. “I don’t bring this up to be cruel, but until you’re gone from here, he’s a threat.”
I knew he wasn’t being cruel. Sir Holland was never that. He was just stating a fact. But there was only one way I would ever leave Lasania, and that would be when I died. I sighed heavily. “What does any of that have to do with an honorable or quick death?”
“Well, besides the fact that a dying mortal can still wield a weapon, an enemy is rarely one by choice,” he told me. “They usually become such due to other people’s choices, or they become enemies because of situations they had little control over. I would think you, of all people, would be more empathetic to that.”
I knew he wasn’t talking about the Vodina Isles Lords, but those who became desperate due to situations so out of their control, they found themselves doing things they’d never consider. Mortals who became someone else’s nightmare because it was the only way they could survive.
Shame scalded the back of my neck as I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.
Sir Holland’s gaze flickered over my face. “What is going on with you, Sera? You’ve been off the last couple of days. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong...?” I trailed off. There were many things wrong, starting with why Sir Holland still met with me daily to train. It wasn’t just to keep me prepared in case I needed to defend myself or if the Queen decided my skill could be used to deliver a personal blow.
Sir Holland behaved as if I were still integral to the survival of Lasania. That the Primal of Death would come for me. I still didn’t have the heart to tell him what the Primal had said to me. I thought… I thought he needed to believe there was hope, because nothing had stopped the Rot from spreading. The only way we knew to do that was to kill the Primal.
And the Rot was getting worse. There had been a few showers in the last month, but nothing of substance. Before that, the storms had brought chunks of ice, crushing and sheering vegetation as it slammed to the ground. People were concerned the cornfields would yield only half what they did last season.
How much longer could Lasania continue on like this?
It was the Kazin siblings that had been murdered. That small babe, and the lack of answers surrounding why they had been killed.
I had gone back to their neighborhood the following day to ask around about the Kazin family. I’d learned that their parents had passed a year before. No one had anything bad to say about them or the siblings. Galen had been described as comely and shy, someone who was often seen strolling the nearby gardens early in the mornings with her babe. And no one had been sure who the child’s father was, but it was believed to be some ne’er-do-well who’d abandoned her after discovering that she was pregnant. Magus was said to be a flirt but loyal and friendly. Come to find out, he had been a guard for Carsodonia. Not as high-ranking as a Royal Guard or Royal Knight, but a defender of the city. I wondered if I’d seen him before. If I passed him in the halls of Wayfair. He was one of thousands, a name with no face. It was also the knowledge that four other mortals had also been killed.
I’ll be watching.