“She was a needless casualty. You should have died in that cell.”
“You should have sent someone more capable to kill me.”
Thomas laughed. “You’re right. I underestimated you. I thought the chains would slow you down a bit more. Perhaps I should be proud my teaching paid off so well.”
“Don’t you take credit for what I am and what I can do. I am my father’s son. It’s his blood coursing through my veins. It’s his training that has kept me alive. Remember him? My father? Your brother? The one you killed?”
“It was a necessary evil.”
“Killing your own brother, a necessary evil. That’s cold even for you.”
“Robert betrayed me. He betrayed these men. He wanted to turn us into a bunch of pathetic Liberta.”
“He wanted to try a different way. A better way.”
Thomas scoffed. “We would have been cut off from the Crown, our homes taken, our money snatched away. How is that a better way?”
John couldn’t contain his disgust. “Money. Of course. You killed them all for money. You are a sick son of a bitch.”
“Of course, I killed them for money. Don’t be so naïve. You’re just like your father. Always walking around with stars in his eyes, tossing his common sense to the wind.”
“My father was a good man. An ethical man.”
“Your father would have destroyed the Order and with it our family legacy. Your ancestors built this organization. Where do you think your ethical father received the money for your fancy home? Your nice clothes and gourmet food? The cooks, maids, and butlers? The royal family! Payment for doing their bidding, removing their opposition, and whisking away those transgressions they stumbled across through the course of their reign. Your father would have thrown it all away. I couldn’t let him tear apart what our family spent centuries building.”
“A crumbling foundation built on a bed of lies. You tell me how that’s worth saving at the expense of hundreds of lost lives.”
“Perhaps, but let’s not forget your father’s part in it.”
“At least he tried to find a better way. An honest way. He may have turned a blind eye to anything outside of foolish loyalty, jumping to do the bidding of corrupt rulers, but he was trying to right his wrongs. To steer the Order back to its original purpose.”
“Perhaps,” he said, shrugging off the truth of John’s words.
“I will tell everyone who you are and what you have done.”
“None of them will listen to you. I’ve woven such a web for you that every word out of your mouth will be met with hostility. I am the great savior of the Order. The lion to lead us out of your treachery and once again bring glory to the Douglas name.”
“My treachery?”
“So they think,” Thomas said, sneering.
“Why keep me alive? Why not just cut off my head right here? If I’m such a villain, certainly they will cheer you for it.”
“That they would, dear boy. But an example must be made. The heads of the ten great Houses of the Order meet next week, along with the top assassins in each of their factions. They come to celebrate your dear departed father and name the new successor to the Order.” He flashed a cunning smile and gestured toward his face. “Me, of course. Your death will serve as entertainment... and a warning to any who think to betray our family again.”
“You have it all figured out, don’t you?”
Thomas grinned. “I believe I do.”
Anger seethed from John’s every pore as he looked up at the man who had murdered his father. “We’ll see about that.”
JOHN STARED AT THE sores on his wrist caused by the metal wrapped around them. Twenty shift changes meant he had been imprisoned in this cold, dank cell for almost one week. His execution would be today if he had calculated correctly.
His uncle kept him locked up tight. Only two guards had seen him since he had arrived. There wasn’t much question they were on his uncle’s personal payroll. Trying to tell them the story of Thomas’ betrayal was pointless, since they were only loyal to the extra coins he could hear jingling in their pockets.
He had come to terms with his impending death over the last week. He wasn’t afraid of death itself, but he was afraid his uncle would remain unpunished for his litany of atrocities. Every time he felt that fear bubble up, it was quickly extinguished by the memory of a pair of blue eyes and fiery red hair. He may not be there to see it, but Charlie would take revenge for both of them, one piece of skin at a time. The thought made John smile.
Charlie. That was the only other regret he had about dying. He had just found her. He had just found the one thing in this world that made his soul sing. John felt cheated that he wouldn’t get more time with her before the end of his days. He would have given up everything for just one more night with her. One more night pressed against her soft skin. One more night with her flaming hair dangling around his face. One more night of hearing her laughter. Just one more night.
“Time’s almost up, traitor.” Guard Number Two, as John called him, came down the hallway to relieve the other. If his calculations were correct, today marked the day of doom.
“I think we both know I’m not a traitor.”
“Traitor or not, you die today,” he said, sneering his displeasure in John’s face. His broken tooth resembled a fang.
Fitting, John thought.
He watched the change of guard for the last time and wondered what his uncle had in store for him. Beheading? Hanging? Burning? Something more creative? He would find out soon enough.
He didn’t have long to wait. Familiar footsteps sauntered down the hall.
“Hello, Uncle Thomas,” he said, before the figure emerged.
“Well done, John. It’s too bad you won’t be around so I can use those skills in the new and improved Order of Lions. You would have been quite an asset.”
“So sorry to disappoint.”
“It’s no worry. Your death will serve me just as well.”
“If things go the way I think they will, you won’t be around long either.” He smirked.
Thomas quirked a brow, but John refrained from telling him just the type of danger that still lurked out there waiting for him. Charlie was coming for him, and his assumption she was dead would give her the extra edge to finish the job. Not that she needed it. Now that he was in her sights it was only a matter of time before his blood ran down her daggers.
“What did it feel like?”
“What did what feel like?” Thomas asked while he opened the door.
“Killing your own brother. Did he know it was you? Did he see your face before you did it? Were you man enough to let him see the betrayal in your eyes before you plunged the dagger into him, or did you stab him in the back?”
Thomas clenched his jaw and his eyes dropped to the floor for only a second.
John sat back and smiled. “Ah... so you did stab him in the back. Figures. You would never have the guts to look him in the eye, let alone the skills to beat him in a fair fight. Instead you snuck up on him and snuffed out his life like the treacherous snake you are.”
“Watch it, John,” he snarled.
“Or what? You’ll kill me?” John chuckled. “I think we have that part covered already. I have an idea. Why don’t you fight me like a real man? Prove to me you’re not the sniveling weasel I know you are. Just you and me. Or are you scared you won’t survive if my back isn’t turned like my father’s, or my hands aren’t bound?” He rattled his chains, his mocking smile firmly in place.
Thomas stiffened, ignoring the taunting, and marched across the cell. “They are all gathered in the courtyard to watch what happens to those who betray their family and consort with the Liberta.”
“You don’t even really care about the Liberta and their ideals, do you? You’re supposed hatred for them all these years is just a rouse, isn’t it? That’s not what this is about at all. You just want them fighting against us so you have more reasons to protect the Crown... an
d more reasons to collect the coin they pay you to do it?”
“You’re not as stupid as you look.”
“You’re not the man I thought you were. And you’re not half the man my father was.”
Thomas glared and pulled out a piece of red cloth. “In case you get any ideas about trying to tell everyone what really happened. Any last words before I gag you for good?”
“I’m going to enjoy killing you.” His eyes blazed with a fire that mirrored Charlie’s hair.
“I wish you luck with that.” Thomas shoved the cloth into John’s mouth and secured it behind his head. He was careful to bind his wrists and hobble his feet before undoing the chains so there was never a moment John would be free. He pulled him up by the elbow and dusted off his dirty clothes. “Your audience awaits your final performance.”
John snarled as Thomas pulled him down the long, stone corridor in the same direction he and Charlie had run when they’d escaped. The door opened, and John squinted in the light, even though the sun had already dipped below the horizon. His eyes took a moment to adjust.
A great crowd of hundreds sprawled out across the courtyard. Fierce eyes glared from beneath cloaks as the masses parted to make a path. A young man spat on John as Thomas pulled him along. The last of the crowd parted to reveal the hanging gallows that had been built since his arrival.
Better than burning, John thought. He tipped his chin up as he allowed himself to be led to the rickety wooden stairs. He took them one at a time until he reached the noose and the box below it. He stepped up onto the box willingly and stood immobile while his uncle slipped the noose around his neck.
Thomas turned to face the crowd. “You have all come to see what happens when someone is a traitor to the Order! This man murdered Henry, consorted with Liberta and slaughtered his own father... my brother and your leader.”
John had to keep from rolling his eyes as his uncle feigned sadness during his applause-worthy performance. The crowd booed and hissed as he stood before them.
“Let no man conspire with the Liberta again,” Thomas said. “Let no man take up swords against our own. And let death come to any who try! I will lead you all into the next era of the Lions! Together we will snuff out the Liberta and paint the world with their blood as revenge for their part in the death of my brother and Henry! With me as your Grand Master, we will avenge them and put an end to the Liberta for good. And it starts right now... with the man who took Robert Douglas from us, his own father. Let his death be the first of many.”
The crowd cheered. Thomas turned to face him. A smug smile crept across his face as he placed his boot on the box below John.
“Goodbye, John.” With a gleeful shove, he pushed the box out from under him.
Charlie. Her face flashed before him in his mind as he dropped. He waited for the crack of his neck but the sound never came. Instead, he heard a whiz and the pop of the rope as it snapped. John tumbled to the ground, rolling to his knees, and looked across the courtyard to see Charlie standing on the wall with a bow in her hand. Her red cloak flapped in the wind. Her crimson lips pulled into a smile as she looked down at him. Charlie!
“Seize her!” Thomas shouted. The crowd all spun around but Charlie had already vanished.
“John! I think you’ll be needing this!” John looked down to the front of the platform. Viktor pulled back his hood and tossed him a dagger. “Catch!”
John snatched the dagger from the air, his bound wrists nearly causing him to drop it. Chaos had erupted below as more Liberta emerged from the crowd and scaled the walls of the courtyard. They poured in through every door and over every wall. They washed through in waves as they clashed with the Lions. Thomas’ eyes flashed with fear when they locked onto John’s predatory smile. He turned and ran down the stairs, disappearing into the chaotic crowd.
This is for you, Father. No mercy. Not now or ever again.
John turned the dagger to his wrists and sliced open the ropes that bound him before doing the same to the rope securing his ankles. He looked down to see Viktor battling it out with two men.
“Go! I’ve got this!” Viktor called out as he laughed and leapt back in.
John jumped from the platform into the crowd. He could see Thomas battling his way through the warring bodies. He chased after him, deflecting blow after blow in his attempt to keep from slaying any of these men. They had been misled and their deaths were unnecessary and unwanted. The only death he cared about was the man he had locked firmly in his sights.
John saw a narrow opening emerge, giving him a direct line to his target. He launched his dagger and watched it slice through the crowd and sink into the back of his uncle’s leg. Thomas yowled in pain and clutched at the wound, stumbling forward. With eyes narrowed in anticipation, John rolled across the ground and swept a fallen sword from the dirt. He leapt to his feet and sprinted through the small opening, his grip tightening on the blade while he closed the final distance to his faltering prey.
Thomas spun to meet him. Their eyes locked when their swords crashed together. Seeing his uncle’s familiar eyes behind the crossed blades almost stole his resolve. Then he remembered his father. Henry. The tears streaming down Charlotte’s face as she was carried away from her fallen father. All of them dead because of this man. John snarled and felt the drive to avenge them all rip through him, steeling his nerves and exploding out through his arm with a powerful swing as he attacked his uncle again.
Impressive skills deflected each blow, their identical training showing as they matched each other move for move. Rage tore through him as he tried once again to dislodge the sword from Thomas’ hand. The extra years of training and practice thwarted his every attempt. John saw his father’s face flash in his mind, and he dug deep into the pain and the agony of his loss for the fortitude to finish the job.
A roar ripped through his lungs, and John leaned back, pushing a powerful kick into his uncle’s chest. The unexpected move sent Thomas tumbling backward, astonishment flashing through his eyes before he slammed into the ground, skidding across the dirt on his back. John snarled and prepared to launch himself through the air, delivering the last blow that would end this fight... and with it avenge all the lives his uncle had stolen.
“John! Look out!” John turned and caught the sword descending on his head with a swift upward swing of his blade. He locked eyes with the man, a member of the Order he had fought with once before. A quick blow with his sword upside the man’s head dropped him unconscious at his feet. He looked over to see Connor battling it out beside him.
“Thanks for the warning!” John shouted to him.
“Don’t say I never did anything for you!” Connor smiled. “Now hurry up and go kill that arse!”
“With pleasure!” John gave him a nod and turned back to where he last saw his uncle. He was gone. John’s eyes darted around until he saw the familiar blue cloak disappearing behind the door that led up to the tower. Ducking and dodging swords, he closed the distance between them, picking up the bloodied dagger his uncle had pulled from his wound. He yanked open the door and heard footsteps ascending. Resolve took over, steeling every nerve for the battle ahead. He would not let him escape justice again. John climbed the stairs two at a time following the trail of blood. He clutched his dagger tightly as he closed in on Thomas. The top of the tower loomed above his racing feet. He rounded the final bend, leaping over the landing to the last set of stairs. He saw his uncle take the final step before reaching a stone room at the top.
Charlie stepped out from the tower room and kicked Thomas in the chest. She sent him sailing backward down the stairs. John jumped to avoid being knocked down as Thomas tumbled to a stop on the landing.
“Charlie!”
She leapt through the air, somersaulting over John, and landing in a crouch at Thomas’ feet.
“Hello, Thomas. Remember me?”
He moaned as he started to sit up. She pressed her foot into his chest and slammed him back to the ground.
John could see the recognition forming in his eyes.
“Ah, now you know who I am.” A sinister smile curved her red lips.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes. I am Charlotte Cornewalle, daughter of Benjamin Cornewalle. You killed my father. I have been waiting for this moment for a very long time.”
“Charlotte, please,” he begged.
“Did my father beg when you stabbed him?”
Thomas shook his head. She pointed her dagger at his chest.
“Why, Thomas? Why did you kill him?” Her fierce demeanor shifted, and for a moment John saw the little redhaired girl sobbing over the body of her beloved father.
“I couldn’t let them make a truce. What they wanted to do would have ruined us all.” Thomas panted at her feet. Even in this moment, he still clung to his warped reality. “His death was necessary to preserve the order.”
The little girl dissolved again back into the body of the fiery warrior crouching above him. Fire danced in her eyes. “You took him from me. I was just a child and you ripped my father from me and I was left all alone. He was all I had in this world. You stole my life. And now I will steal yours.”
Her fingers tightened on her dagger as she moved it to his throat. His eyes flashed white when the metal point touched his jugular.
“Charlie, wait.” John stepped forward. “I want him dead as much as you do. But we need him alive if I am going to prove my innocence.”
She sighed and glanced back at John. “Fine. But when the time comes, and it will...” She turned her glare back at Thomas. “...I get to do it.”
“Deal,” John said, nodding his agreement.
Grabbing Thomas by the hair, she slammed his head into the stone floor. His eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp.
In The Assassin's Arms (Daggers 0f Desire Book 1) Page 16
