“Jesus!” he shouted, and he caught the rusted dagger with the chains binding his wrists. Thadius flailed wildly and, trying to dislodge it from the link it had become trapped in, he got ahold of the handle and pulled hard. John felt it dislodging.
He kicked his leg chains in the air and wrapped them around Thadius’ neck, squeezing hard while the man struggled below him. John heard a familiar crack, and Thadius fell limp beside him.
“What the hell was that?” John panted, looking down at the lifeless body. He glanced up and saw no guards at the door. Somehow, they hadn’t heard the struggle. Or perhaps they had, and they just didn’t care.
John looked down at the dagger still lodged in his chains.
“How in the hell did he get a dagger?” John said to himself as he looked it over. It was practically rusted through. Perhaps it had been hidden in this cell. Being chained to the wall since his arrival, he hadn’t had a chance to explore.
He looked at the dagger again and then down at the lock securing his legs and wrists. A smile crept across his face as he contorted his arm to free it. This was his chance. He could use the dagger to pick his lock and get out of here in time to save Charlie.
Hearing a muted commotion down the hallway, he dislodged the dagger and slipped it underneath his legs while he sat unassuming against the wall. Another strange noise piqued his interest. Footsteps. The guards were coming, and he couldn’t let them find the dagger when they found Thadius’ body.
The footsteps came slowly, almost deliberate. John listened closer. They weren’t the boots of the guards. He knew how they sounded as they patrolled the cells. They sounded almost like... women’s heels.
Charlie stepped around the corner, her red cloak concealing her face. She wiped the blood from her dagger as she took slow steps toward him. John sat in awe as she slipped her dagger back into its sheath and slid her hood down, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned up against the cell bars.
“Charlie,” he breathed in relief.
“Miss me?”
“Did I ever! Are you all right? Are you harmed? How did you get out?”
“I’m fine. Not a scratch on me. I gave you a couple days to come rescue me, you know, to give you a chance to redeem yourself and your pride. When I realized you weren’t coming, I took it upon myself to escape and come rescue you instead.” Her voice purred with pride.
“I was just breaking free to come and save you!”
“Sure you were, John. Looks like you were doing a bang-up job. How are those chains treating you?”
“I was!” he defended himself, leaning over to grab the rusted dagger. “See. Right here. I strangled the man who tried to assassinate me, took his dagger, and planned to pick my locks, then the door, kill everyone and come save you.”
Charlie faked a yawn. “Is that all?”
John couldn’t contain his laugh any longer. “Damn, it’s good to see you, Charlie.”
“Are you coming or what?”
“Grab the keys and get me out of here.”
“Keys? I was going to watch you pick that lock with your dagger.”
“Charlie...”
She cracked a smile and shook a set of keys she had been palming. “I suppose we should be in a bit of a hurry.”
“Thank you,” he said, watching her open the door and walk across the cell to him. She glanced down at Thadius, dead by his side.
“Did you tell jokes? If you did, it’s no wonder he tried to murder you.”
He laughed at her positive attitude in the face of danger. “The man who just tried to stab me in a locked cell has only increased the mystery. Let’s just add it to the list of things we need to figure out.”
Charlie knelt down and slipped the key into the lock. John sighed as the weight of the chains released from his wrists and ankles. She looked to the arrow hole in his shirt and touched it with her fingers. Concern flashed across her face.
“I’m fine, Charlie,” John said, and he reached up and touched her hand. “We should go.”
She nodded and extended her hand. John grabbed it and climbed to his feet. He couldn’t believe she was here. They stood in front of one another for a moment, and then he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her tightly in a hug. He felt her stiffen at first, but he held her anyway. Her body softened as she slowly wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him back.
“Thank you, Charlie,” he murmured into her neck. He stood holding her for a moment, trying to will his arms to let her go so they could get moving. They stood immobile for another precious moment before he softened his grip and released her. She looked up at him and smiled.
“Let’s go, John.”
He nodded and stepped out into the corridor. Leaning down, he grabbed a sword from the dead guard on the ground.
“This way,” he said, gesturing opposite the way she came in. “It leads through the back courtyard. A quick sprint and we can get to the woods.”
She nodded. John reached back and grabbed her hand, pulling her behind him as they made their way down the long hall. They reached the door at the other end and Charlie quickly picked the lock.
“You’re pretty good at that,” he said.
“Better than you, obviously. You’d still be in that cell if it wasn’t for me,” she teased.
“Hey! Not fair! I was chained to a wall.”
“Who says I wasn’t?” She arched an eyebrow.
John smiled and shook his head. “Charlie?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you’re not dead.”
She returned his smile. “I’m glad you’re not, either. Now let’s go before they catch us and that statement is no longer true for one, or both of us.”
“Good point.”
They cracked open the door and peered out into the darkness. The coast looked clear.
“Come on,” he said, and he tugged her forward. They sprinted across the opening and slipped into the bushes on the edge of the manicured lawn. Voices broke the crisp night silence. John yanked Charlie’s hand, pulling her down into hiding beside him. He held his finger to his lips as the voices grew louder.
A group of men walked past them as they held their breaths in the bushes. They chattered amongst themselves while they patrolled the yard, six of them from what John could make out. The men seemed unaware of their presence and they faded farther away.
“Less talking, more patrolling.” A voice from a distance reprimanded them. It was his Uncle Thomas.
Charlie’s grip on his hand tightened and she turned her head toward him, her eyes widening as she stared at John.
“What is it?” he whispered. The soldiers were just far enough now they could safely communicate.
“That voice. That’s the voice I heard.”
“The voice you heard?” He wasn’t following.
“When I was hanging out the window that night, I heard the voice of the man that killed Henry. Remember when I told you about it? I’ll never forget it. I just heard him.”
John felt his blood boil. “Which one? I need to see which one so I can slit his throat.” He tried to recall all the voices of the soldiers.
“The one who said: ‘less talking, more patrolling.’”
The blood left his head, and a shiver traveled down his body.
“John, are you all right?” Charlie looked at him with concern, the shock apparent on his face.
“Are you certain, Charlie?”
“Yes. I’m certain. Who was it? You know, don’t you?”
He nodded. “My uncle. The voice belongs to my uncle.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
John’s shock turned to rage as the pieces fell together. His uncle had killed Henry. He’d killed her father. And he’d killed his own brother. His own flesh and blood! Thinking back, he could see how it all unfolded before his very eyes. Uncle Thomas had been opposed to the truce between the Liberta and the Order. Uncle Thomas inherited everything when John’s father died and J
ohn was labeled a murderer. Of course, with John out of the way he would be elected the next Grand Master and could run it however he saw fit. How could he have been so blind? He reached for his sword.
Charlie placed her hand over his. “No, John. Not now. We’re outnumbered. You’re injured. We need to go. We’ll come back, I swear it. He killed our fathers, both of them. I’m certain of it. I want his blood on my hands as much as you do. But not now. We can’t risk losing and letting him get away with it.”
He heard the truth in her words, but the rage reverberated inside of him, begging to explode through his hands and into the sword he would wield against his uncle.
“John.” She squeezed his hand and caught his eye. “You need to get me out of here. Now.”
John realized if he went for his uncle now he would put her in danger. She was right. They were unprepared. He took a breath and nodded, then grabbed her hand and dashed the rest of the way to the woods.
They ran in silence for a mile, until they reached the top of the hill where they had last seen each other. He bent over to catch his breath and looked down at the torches surrounding his family’s estate. His uncle was in there. And John was coming for him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“YOUR uncle?” Charlie bent down beside John, huffing just as hard. “Why in the hell would your uncle be behind this?”
“It all makes so much sense now,” John roared. “How could I be so stupid? The dagger Thadius got in the cell. My uncle slipped it to him when he faked attacking him. He wanted me executed. It was all a set up.”
“Just explain it to me.” She reached out and touched his arm. She could see he was upset and could only imagine the roiling emotions he must be feeling. Her rage threatened to gallop out of control, but John had another layer of anger piled on... betrayal. She needed to focus on him right now and try to understand his uncle’s motivations.
“Thomas has a deep hatred for the Liberta. He suspected my father of preparing for a truce with your father all those years ago. He paid Walter Baker to give up your father’s identity, knowing it meant he’d found the head of the Liberta. When your father came to negotiate with my father, my uncle murdered him to drive a deeper wedge between the Order and the Liberta and remove the man willing to make a truce.”
Charlie felt heat rush through her veins as he talked about her father’s murder.
“My father had just admitted to us that he and Henry had planned to attempt a truce with the Liberta. Uncle Thomas must have thought we had strayed from our original oath to protect the royals. But the Order has become nothing more than the instrument they use to murder their rivals, and cover up their deceitful acts, neither being our intended mission. We are supposed to protect the crown, but not if it means harming or murdering innocent people. My father knew this, and he and Henry were going to make a change and remove our support for the king. He only sits on the throne because we made that happen. We were wrong to do so, and my father wanted to change that.”
Charlie listened intently. “It sounds like he was a wise man.”
“He was. My uncle must have found out and murdered Henry, the second in command. Murdering my father and framing me at the same time assured his rise to power. As the Grand Master of the Order, he can dissolve any attempts at a truce between our factions.”
“He killed my father,” she stated coldly.
“And mine.”
“Then we will take our revenge one slice at a time.”
“That we will.”
“We need a safe place to regroup. None of yours will suffice; they will look for you there. We can head to a Liberta safe house not far from here. We can figure out a plan while you heal up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’ve been shot. I need you strong if we are going to take down your uncle. Is he a good fighter?”
John nodded. “Extremely. He was the best the Order had when he was younger. He may be older now, but he’s just as lethal.”
“Then we need to be careful. I won’t risk failing at getting our fathers justice. We need to heal you up. We head to my safe house, and I’m not going to argue about it anymore.”
He agreed. “You’re right. We had better get started. We’ve got a long walk with no horses.”
Charlie smiled. “Speak for yourself.” She placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Moments later the sound of galloping hooves echoed through the night air. A white silhouette glowed under the almost-full moon as Duchess crested the top of the hill.
“Good girl,” she cooed, and stroked the mare’s neck.
“Impressive.”
A sharp whinny cut through the night air. Duchess nickered back. A moment later Duke trotted up behind her.
“Would you look at that?” John exclaimed, grabbing the broken rein. “He found her!”
“It seems he did.” She smiled. “He likes her.”
John watched the gelding nuzzle her mare while Charlie swung up. “I know how he feels.”
She smiled at him and spun around on her mare. “Follow me.”
“Anywhere,” John said, and cantered off behind her.
“IT’S JUST UP AHEAD,” Charlie said when she and Duchess stepped over the fallen log in the forest. They had ridden hard through the night to the cabin that the Liberta had used for decades to lay low. She saw the small cabin through the clearing across the creek bed. Smoke billowed out of the stone chimney.
“Get down!” she whispered as she slid to the ground and crouched next to Duchess.
John followed suit and slid off Duke, creeping up beside her. They watched for movement as the smoke continued rolling into the morning sky.
“Who’s in there?” he whispered.
“I don’t know. It could be Liberta, or it could be someone who doesn’t belong. We need to get a closer look. Stay here.”
“I’m coming with you,” he protested.
“No,” she commanded. “I know these woods well. I’ll be better solo. Just stay here with the horses.”
Charlie gave him a stern look. She would move faster without him. He nodded. She was glad he wasn’t going to put up a big fuss for once.
She handed the reins to John and crouched low, slinking to the side of the cabin, but keeping her distance as she surveyed for movement. Two horses grazed in the small paddock, oblivious to her presence as she crept by. Glancing at a tall tree overlooking the property, she scurried up to a low hanging branch for a better vantage point.
She sat in silence for several minutes while the smoke billowed in her direction. No movement yet. She would be patient and wait for someone to show themselves. It was early, so they were probably still sleeping. They would have to come out eventually.
JOHN LISTENED FOR ANY sounds but all he could hear was the annoying chirping of the bird above him. He had tried to shoo it off several times, but it came right back again. He cursed it as it settled in on the thick branch just above his head for the third time.
Giving up the fight, he ignored the bird while he scanned the cabin and its surroundings for any sign of movement, or of Charlie. She had been gone almost ten minutes, and he hadn’t seen even a rustling branch. He had to admit, her stealth abilities were unmatched. He considered his own abilities to be some of the best in the world, but even he questioned his skills when he saw her appear and disappear at will. The Liberta had trained her well.
A tap on his shoulder prompted him to jump and spin around. He saw nothing but forest. Furrowing his brow, he wondered if he had imagined it. He turned back toward the cabin, and saw a man hanging upside down from the tree in front of him, his face just inches away from John’s. The tip of a dagger touched his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
The man’s dark eyes smiled before his lips did. His black moustache curved downward since he dangled from the branch above by his feet. Had he been standing in front of John, it would have twisted into two perfect points curved up toward his ears. He wore black from head to toe, the color ma
tching the ebony waves of hair that accented his dark features.
John stood immobile while the dagger moved expertly across his throat. The man chirped at him, a perfect duplicate of the bird that had tormented him earlier. He smiled when he finished, his pride apparent throughout his accurate rendition of the bird’s song.
“Who are you?” the man in black asked, continuing to trace the dagger across John’s neck.
“None of your concern,” John said, succeeding in keeping his voice steady despite the shock that someone managed to sneak up on him.
“Actually, it is of my concern. You see, that is my house,” he said, pointing to the cabin, “and you don’t belong here. So, I ask you again... who are you?”
John wasn’t sure of the man’s identity or his skill set outside that of wielding a knife, but he’d had enough of his games. With a whoosh, he dodged the dagger and flipped backward, landing on his feet with his sword drawn.
The man in the tree smiled. “This will be more fun than I thought.” He flipped out of the tree and landed on his feet with an expertise that told John he had better be careful. He slid his dagger into the red sash around his waist and removed the sword that dangled beside it.
The two men circled one another, each searching for signs of weakness or an opening. They moved with purpose, one long step at a time. John heard a crack behind him. A red-haired man stepped out from behind the tree, a long wooden bow drawn taut with an arrow pointed right at John’s head.
“Don’t ruin things!” the man in black scolded the newcomer. “Put that thing away. My new friend and I were just about to have a little fun, weren’t we?”
“Yes, we were.” John sized up the situation but still felt confident he could take them both. He needed to keep an eye on the ginger, though. Arrows were quick, but he needed to make sure he was quicker. He already had one hole in his body and didn’t need another.
In The Assassin's Arms (Daggers 0f Desire Book 1) Page 11
