Midnight Thief

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Midnight Thief Page 19

by Livia Blackburne


  Ahead of her, flames leaped from rooftops toward the sky. Buckets lay forgotten on the ground, the guards now desperately fighting off the invaders. In one square, a group of three demon cats and their riders faced off against a handful of soldiers. Kyra kept her head low and skirted past.

  As she neared The Drunken Dog, the flames on either side of the street grew, and the smoke became so thick she had to duck low to keep from choking. Even though she stayed in the middle of the road, the heat from the fires on either side pressed down on her head and shoulders. She cast a hand over her face to block falling ashes and kept going. Finally, she passed through the heart of the blaze, and the angry flames gave way to burned-out ruins. A charred sign caught her eye and she skidded to a stop, lungs burning. Half the letters were reduced to charcoal, but the sign unmistakably belonged to the bakery a few stores past The Drunken Dog.

  How could she have run right past the inn and not noticed? A voice in her head whispered a reason she didn’t want to hear. Kyra retraced her steps, unwilling to believe it, but there was no denying the sight that greeted her. Charred posts marked where the walls of the tavern used to be, surrounding a blackened floor. Fallen timbers and boards, all that was left of the second floor and roof, lay in piles on the ground. It was all destroyed: the dining room, Bella’s kitchen, everything.

  Kyra clasped her hand to her mouth, silencing the cry that rose up in her throat. She rushed in, ignoring the precariously hanging timbers. Smoke made her eyes water, and splinters, still warm, threatened to puncture the leather soles of her shoes. Still, she dashed from room to room, scouring the ruins. The building was destroyed, but there were no bodies. Kyra stopped. No bodies. They might have escaped.

  She ran outside and scanned the street. The Drunken Dog was so close to the center of the attack. Could anyone possibly have made it out safely? Her eyes fell on the one structure still standing: the stone market building. Shapes were visible through the windows, and they weren’t dressed like Demon Riders. Kyra dashed for the door and almost impaled herself on a sword. A Red Shield blocked her way.

  “I’m looking for my family,” she said.

  She must not have looked like a Demon Rider, because he moved aside. “Get in, quickly.”

  The main hall smelled of sweat and fear. Murmurs and quiet sobbing muted the sounds of battle but didn’t quite drown them out. Kyra ran from one stall to the next, searching through faces. People were crowded into every corner. Finally, she glimpsed a familiar figure, his arms draped protectively around two young girls. The girls covered their ears as they huddled on the ground. All three of them had faces blackened with soot, and streaked—even Flick’s—with tears.

  “Flick!” Kyra forgot about the demon cat invasion, forgot she was supposed to be dead, and barreled toward them, stopping short as they looked up and registered her face. There was a moment of shocked silence. The girls gasped. Flick stared as if he thought he’d gone mad.

  “Is it really…” he said.

  She nodded. Flick stared for another second before he shouted her name, voice cracking with emotion. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, holding her so tightly she thought he was going to break her ribs. Kyra squeezed her eyes tight against the tears that threatened to spill. It would be all right. She wanted to just stay here, lean against him, and forget everything. He kissed her soot-stained forehead and squeezed her again before holding her back out to look at her.

  “They told us you were dead.”

  “I know. I’m…” She choked on the words. Idalee and Lettie stared wide-eyed, as if unsure if she was really there. Kyra reached out and pulled them close. She shouldn’t have worked for the Guild. She should have listened to Flick, to Bella…“Where’s Bella?”

  A shadow crossed Flick’s face, and Kyra froze. He looked toward a group of women bent over someone on the ground. “She was stuck in the kitchens when the fires started. We were lucky we could get her out—”

  She didn’t wait for him to finish. The crowd of women parted at her approach, and Kyra trembled as Bella came into view. The cook was pale beneath the soot, eyes closed as she struggled for breath. Forcing back tears, Kyra laid a hand on Bella’s arm. Bella turned at the unexpected touch, eyes fluttering open.

  “Kyra? Is that you?” Her voice was hoarse and weak.

  “I’m really here.” Kyra could no longer hold her tears back. “I’m so sorry, Bella.”

  Bella reached up and brushed Kyra’s arm with a shaking hand. “Were those knights just fooling us?” Bella’s voice trailed off and she coughed. Kyra laid a hand on her shoulder and waited until the spasms subsided.

  “We were trying to protect you. The Guild…” Kyra stopped again. Did it really matter? “I’m so sorry.”

  Bella smiled. “Don’t be. You did your best.…I’m proud of you.”

  Proud? If there was one thing she didn’t deserve right now, it was Bella’s approval. That had always been Bella’s mistake, to see good in Kyra that wasn’t there.

  “We need to get you a healer,” Kyra said. Her voice was sharp with urgency. “We need a healer,” she called. Around her, people stared, and she realized her foolishness. If there had been a healer in the room, she would have helped Bella already. Did Kyra expect another one to walk through the door?

  Bella coughed and Kyra clutched her hand. The cook’s eyes closed again, her breathing shallow and labored. Occasionally, her eyes moved in agitation beneath her eyelids. Kyra stroked Bella’s arm and face, as the cook had so often done for Kyra after her childhood nightmares. She felt a familiar pressure on her shoulder and knew without looking that it was Flick, just as she knew that the two shapes that pressed up next to her were Idalee and Lettie.

  They stayed there, holding each other for comfort while Bella’s breathing grew weaker, fading from low gasps to the barest flutter. Kyra didn’t know when it actually ended. Just that at one point, Flick checked Bella’s pulse and arranged her arms in the final resting pose. Kyra let it all out then, clutching the girls as she sobbed into Idalee’s hair, leaning into Flick as he held on to all of them. Perhaps she needed to be strong for them, but she just didn’t have it in her.

  Bit by bit, sunlight replaced the fire’s red glow. She was dimly aware that the soldiers’ shouting became less urgent. Eventually, she stopped hearing demon cat roars, and the market building began to empty. Kyra still didn’t move or speak, just stared at Bella’s now peaceful face and let her mind go numb.

  A hand touched her shoulder. “Kyra.”

  She turned with a start. It was Tristam. He looked much the worse for wear, with a bruise beneath one eye and blood splattered over his tunic. There was pity in his eyes.

  “We need to go back to the Palace.”

  She didn’t want to go back. She didn’t want to do anything but stay here, still as stone while the world crumbled around her. How many weeks ago had it been, when she’d sat in Bella’s kitchen and made foolish plans to care for her when she grew old? She’d been so naïve.

  “Kyra,” Tristam tried again. She still didn’t respond, and Tristam took her arm, gently pulling her up.

  Another hand closed over the knight’s wrist. “You’re not taking her,” said Flick. “Not like this. Not without any explanations.”

  “Flick, no,” Kyra murmured. He was no match for an armed knight.

  Tristam’s body went rigid as his eyes fell on Flick’s hand. There was anger in his face, and for a moment none of them breathed. Then Tristam exhaled, and all his strength seemed to leave him. His voice was thick with exhaustion when he spoke.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Faxon.” His use of Flick’s real name startled Kyra. “I’m bound by oath as a knight to watch Kyra and keep her under Palace custody. But even if I weren’t, it’s the safest place for her right now. The Guild has tried to kill her once. They must not know that she’s alive.”

  Kyra snapped out of her stupor. “But what about them?” she asked, gesturing to Flick and the girls. “Th
ey’re not safe either.”

  There was a long pause, then Tristam finally spoke. “Very well.” He turned to Flick, who was staring blankly at the smoldering ruins. “Come with us. You and the girls will be safer there. We failed once to protect you. I’d like to do better, if you’ll let me.”

  It was a somber walk back, picking their way through the invasion’s aftermath. At first, Kyra attempted to shield Idalee and Lettie from the worst of the carnage, but she soon gave up. There was just so much. In bits and pieces, when the girls were out of earshot, she filled Flick in on the events since her capture.

  No one challenged them upon entering the Palace. Although the fire had not breached the walls, the injured were already pouring in. A tent had been set up in the main courtyard, and healers picked their way amongst the victims.

  As they stepped deeper into the compound, Flick became noticeably tense, gaze moving suspiciously in every direction. Tristam too changed from the young man who’d joked with Kyra in the forest, taking on the weight and authority of a knight of Forge. The easy camaraderie they’d shared just hours before fell away, and she was once again very aware that she was his prisoner. Tristam led Kyra and her friends to a spare room, where Idalee and Lettie collapsed almost immediately, too tired even to be distracted by the fine furniture. Kyra kissed their foreheads, and Flick tucked blankets around them. When they closed the door behind them, Kyra looked questioningly at Tristam. After roaming the city and forest unsupervised, she wasn’t sure where she was supposed to go.

  “Let’s put you back in Ilona’s patient room,” Tristam said reluctantly. Kyra wondered if he also found the Palace walls stifling. “I have to keep you under guard while you’re in the Palace. Flick can stay in one of the rooms here.”

  “I’d like to speak with Flick,” she said.

  Tristam thought briefly, then nodded. “You can have a few moments after we get to your room.”

  There was no conversation as the three of them made their way to Kyra’s chamber. They took a back route and Kyra kept her cloak low over her face, but she couldn’t help thinking how silly it was to continue hiding when she had been out in the open so long. When they reached the healer’s wing, Tristam unlocked the door to Kyra’s room. “I’ll be out here,” he said.

  The patient room was strangely tranquil, an oasis of quiet that didn’t fit the night’s events. It was also too clean for someone as soiled with dirt and ash as she was. Avoiding the furniture, Kyra collapsed on the floor against the wall, and Flick settled down beside her. They were silent for a long time.

  “It’s all my fault,” she finally said.

  Flick turned to face her. “You don’t know that.”

  “Of all the places they could have started a fire, they chose that neighborhood.”

  “If not our section, they would have burned another. The Demon Riders did this, and James. Not you.”

  “You don’t understand. James couldn’t have done this without me.”

  There was pause as Flick digested her words. “What?”

  Kyra closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath. For a moment, she was tempted to keep that part of the story to herself. But the guilt was slowly killing her. She had to tell someone—someone who wouldn’t view it from a purely tactical standpoint like Tristam or Malikel. “I was the one who gave James run of the Palace. I unlocked the armory so the Guild could steal armor for the barbarians. I copied the trade and guard schedules that the Demon Riders used to time their raids. The barbarian attacks—they were successful because of me.”

  Her voice wavered and she stopped. Flick shook his head, blinking in confusion. “What do you mean? You got supplies for the Demon Riders? Helped them? Did you know?”

  “No. I mean”—Kyra stumbled over her words—“I didn’t know why I was doing the jobs. There were some hints, but James said I was imagining things, and I wasn’t sure—”

  “There were some hints?” Flick raised his voice, incredulous. “You thought you might be helping the Demon Riders, but you just kept going?”

  “It wasn’t that simple, I—”

  “You did what, Kyra?” He was angry now, grief and shock lending a terrible force to his words. “You just ignored the signs? That was always your problem. You fix your eyes on whatever new challenge you fancy, and it doesn’t matter what I say, what other folk say, or even what you see with your own eyes. You just keep going, and it doesn’t matter what gets destroyed along the way.”

  His accusations rang true, and Kyra cowered under the brunt of his tirade. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, eyes burning. “I was wrong.”

  “Tell that to Bella.” His voice was raw from tears and smoke. Without looking at her, he stood and walked toward the door.

  “Flick, don’t go.”

  He didn’t, but he didn’t turn around either. Kyra watched him from where she huddled, taking in the curve of his shoulders, his hands as they clenched into fists and unclenched again. She had never seen him so angry.

  Kyra retreated into her misery, turning both Flick’s accusations and her own self-recriminations over in her head. She couldn’t lose both him and Bella in one night. For a long time, the only sound in the room was Flick’s breathing.

  Finally, he straightened and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Kyra.” He didn’t look at her as he turned toward the door. “It’s just too much to take right now.”

  She didn’t call after him to stay.

  T W E N T Y - S E V E N

  Kyra stared at the map in front of her, seeing nothing but refusing to look up. Beside her, Malikel, Tristam, and Martin bent over the parchment, eyes focused on Flick as he recounted the fire for them. Kyra, for her part, avoided looking at Flick as carefully as he avoided looking at her, though she snuck some glances when he wasn’t paying attention. Her jovial friend had aged in the past few days. His face was gaunt, and there were deep circles under his eyes.

  “The fires started around midnight,” said Flick. “We smelled smoke and saw the kitchen burning. At first, we thought it was just The Drunken Dog, but then the fire got out of hand and we ran outside. The entire street was in flames.”

  “Any idea who started the fires?” asked Malikel. He’d rushed back to Forge upon receiving news of the attack and was now beginning his investigation in earnest.

  Flick shot him a disgusted look. “That’s your job to know, in’t it?”

  “You’ll address the Minister of Defense with respect,” snapped Tristam.

  Martin half successfully hid a long-suffering sigh behind his hands. He caught Kyra looking and grinned. Kyra managed a small smile back, wishing she could laugh about the constant friction between Flick and Tristam as easily as Martin did. Instead, it just wore her down.

  “We’re working toward the same goals, Faxon,” said Malikel. “The quicker we can piece together what happened, the quicker we can punish those responsible.”

  “My name is Flick.” No one responded. “I didn’t see anyone, but some folks at the market saw masked men with torches.”

  “That fits with the Guild,” said Tristam.

  Who had started the fire? Alex? Shea? Bacchus? Kyra imagined Rand dressed in black and gripping a torch, a carrot-colored curl peeking out from under his mask. She saw Bella’s pale, ashen face.

  “When did the Demon Riders come in?”

  “I don’t know. A couple hours after the fire started? Everyone was distracted.”

  “Did you see any Riders?” interjected Malikel. “Or just cats?”

  “Just cats,” said Flick.

  “As did I,” added Tristam. “When Kyra and I arrived.”

  “Where were the Riders?” asked Malikel. “Kyra, you saw them heading to the city from the forest. Kyra, are you paying attention?”

  Kyra snapped out of her reflections, flinching at Malikel’s tone. “Mostly Riders going toward Forge,” she said. “There were a few cats, but just a handful.”

  There was a pause as everyone thought this over. “We still don’t kn
ow nearly enough about the Demon Riders,” said Malikel.

  “Kyra might be able to learn more if we go back into the forest,” said Tristam.

  “Yes,” said Malikel. “Continue those trips. But we need to strike at the Assassins Guild as well. We can’t afford merely to observe them anymore. Another attack like this would destroy the city.”

  The map blurred before her, and Kyra rubbed her eyes. Perhaps James had started the fire, put a torch to The Drunken Dog himself.

  “A full attack on the Guildhouse, then?” Tristam was saying.

  “Let’s think about this,” Malikel said. “We want to capture members for questioning and search the place for clues about their relationship with the Demon Riders. Kyra, we need your help to plan this.”

  “It won’t work,” she said.

  The table fell silent. “Do you care to elaborate?” said Tristam.

  “I’ve seen these men work,” said Kyra. “They’re dangerous. As well trained or better than any of your knights, and they don’t bother with honor or chivalry. You’d need to outnumber them to pull it off, but you send that many soldiers, they’ll see you coming. At best, they’ll be gone before you step foot on the grounds; at worst, you’ll walk into a trap.”

  “A smaller strike party, then,” said Tristam. “We capture who and what we can and retreat.”

  “You’d be sending them to die.”

  Tristam glared at her, his patience also wearing thin in the exhausting days since the fire. “Will you just shoot down suggestions? We could use some ideas.”

  Kyra opened her mouth to speak, but found that she couldn’t. Bella’s face swam in front of her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I…I can’t do this.”

 

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