Midnight Thief

by Livia Blackburne

  That got through to her. Her face twisted briefly before she schooled her features again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “About Martin.”

  Tristam gave up any attempt at self-control. He strained against the ropes, hardly noticing the resulting pain through his injured arm. “You owe me more than that. Were you working for James this entire time? Gaining my sympathy for Palace secrets? You played me for a fool.” Kyra held some berries to his lips and he turned his head. “How do I know these aren’t poisoned?”

  “Don’t be stupid,” she snapped. “Starving yourself won’t help anyone.”

  Tristam accepted the berries. He was so hungry he couldn’t have held out long anyway.

  “I in’t working for James,” she said finally.

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  She looked away. “It’s complicated.”

  “Of course it is.”

  She flinched at his caustic tone.

  “At least tell me what they’re going to do with me,” said Tristam.

  Kyra glanced briefly behind her, meeting the cat’s eye, then nodded. “James has been trying to get rid of you and Malikel for a while now. He’s meeting with the Riders soon. They’ll turn you over, in exchange for some favors from the Guild.”

  He crumpled against his ropes. “How long do I have?”

  “One day, maybe two. I’m talking to Leyus, trying to change his mind.”

  “I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.”

  She ignored his sarcasm and dug into the pouch again. “I may not be able to come back for a while. Here are some berries for later.” He felt her press something into his hands.

  She turned and left, walking quickly past the demon cat without looking back. Instead of helping him, she had left him with more questions, and a handful of berries that he couldn’t even lift to his mouth. He looked at them, entertaining some vague hope that Kyra had slipped him something to help him escape. But no, they were just regular bush berries, some already bleeding black juice into his palm.

  His guard padded over, eyeing the gift suspiciously.

  “It’s just berries,” he said, holding them out as best he could. The cat growled and came closer, tail swishing as it stuck its nose into Tristam’s hand. Tristam held very still. There was a movement in the corner of his eye, but instinctively he knew not to look. A moment later, he heard a loud crack. The cat staggered back to reveal Kyra brandishing a rock. She followed her first blow with another to the beast’s head. For a moment, the cat looked dazed. Then it launched itself at Kyra. The girl barely had time to dart away—right into Tristam. Pain streaked through his shoulder. He felt something heavy drop into his palm. Kyra wobbled and looked into his eyes as she steadied herself. Then she ran, the demon cat close on her heels.

  Tristam closed his fingers over the new object. It was a knife—Kyra had found his knife. His guard, as far as he could tell, was still chasing Kyra and hadn’t noticed. Tristam took a slow breath. His arms were completely bound, and he could only move his wrists and fingers. If he dropped the dagger…well, he wouldn’t. Slowly, he eased off the leather sheath and let it fall. If he twisted his wrist, he could just graze the ropes with the blade.

  The cat chased Kyra up a tree and into the higher branches. Tristam kept an eye on them as he worked. As strand by strand gave way, the ropes loosened, and he sawed more quickly. Finally, his arms came free and Tristam pulled at the rest until they lay in a pile on the ground. He took a step and grabbed the tree for support as a million invisible needles attacked his limbs.

  There was a loud crack, followed by a crash. Tristam looked up to find Kyra crumpled on the ground, surrounded by leaves and twigs. A few paces away, the demon cat crouched, also disoriented. Then it stood up, shook itself, and limped toward Kyra. The girl lifted her head, making no move to defend herself.

  Tristam lurched toward the cat with the knife, aiming for the tender flesh under its neck. The beast whipped around, and Tristam brought the knife down, angling the blade so it slipped between strands of fur. The dagger lodged in the demon cat’s shoulder. The animal roared in fury. Desperately scrambling for another weapon, Tristam grabbed a large branch and put all his remaining strength behind his attack, pummeling the creature as hard as he could. One hit connected with the base of the demon cat’s skull, and the beast sank to the ground.

  Kyra groaned, and Tristam turned to see her slowly push herself to her feet.

  “That was a bad idea,” she said.

  “Was our earlier conversation all an act?”

  “Some of it,” she said, rubbing her backside. She grimaced and staggered over to the cat, placing her hand in front of its muzzle to check its breathing. “He’s still alive.”

  “Not for long.” Tristam wrenched the knife out of the cat’s shoulder and pried its mouth open.

  “No!” Kyra’s eyes were wide, horrified.

  “Give me one good reason not to,” he snarled. First Jack, then Martin, and the countless in the fire. He would kill one of these creatures before he died.

  “Please…”

  He looked at her incredulously and stepped toward her, only to grab a tree for support as a wave of nausea hit him. She reached out to steady him, but shrank back when he glared at her. Was he that frightening to behold?

  He doubled over, his strength draining as his anger lost momentum. “Who are you?” he asked.

  Kyra looked frantically between him and the prone demon cat. She started to talk, but then she stopped, her eyes widened, and she cast around the forest.

  “They’re coming after us,” she said. “We need to go.”

  T H I R T Y - S E V E N

  The moment they started running, Kyra knew they were in trouble. Tristam’s ordeal had taken its toll. His balance was off, and strain showed on his face with each step. Still, they had no choice but to run.

  They needed a river to wash out their scent and hide their tracks. Even then, Kyra wasn’t sure the Makvani wouldn’t be able to pick their scent out of the air. Running alongside Tristam, her own recently trained nose caught the fresh blood of his wounds, and more disturbingly, another layer of fever and sickness underneath. More than once, she saw him stumble.

  “We’re almost there,” she said, squeezing the words out between gasps. “There’s a river up ahead.”

  Already, the ground was sloping down. They slowed, stepping carefully over roots and rocks toward the rushing water. She broke through the trees on the riverbank and stopped at the edge. It was a small river and looked to be waist deep. Icy water swirled around her ankles as she waded in.

  “How are you doing?” A rock tipped as she put her weight on it and she barely avoided twisting her ankle.

  “I’ll live,” said Tristam through gritted teeth.

  They followed the river until Kyra had no feeling left in her submerged feet.

  “Do you think we can cross?” she asked.

  Tristam nodded and they turned into the deeper water toward the opposite bank. The current took her breath away and she clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. Behind her, Tristam stumbled and she rushed to his side, bracing against the slippery stones as he steadied himself. Kyra ducked under his shoulder. His weight made her knees buckle. They fought through, resisting the flow, until they finally clambered up the opposite bank. At the top of the slope, Kyra collapsed onto the dirt, only to jump up again as the smell of demon cats filled her nostrils. Kyra turned her face into the wind. There were definitely cats in that direction, and they were close.

  “We need to—” She stopped when she saw Tristam’s face. He was scrutinizing her, eyes wary.

  “You’re different….”

  She ignored him. “The demon cats are everywhere. We can’t stay.” But then she stopped. They couldn’t run either. Tristam could hardly walk at this point, and just helping him across the river had exhausted her. Tristam’s grim expression told her that he had reached the same conclusion.

  “There was a small alcove
by the riverbank a little upstream,” he said. “Maybe we can wait out the search there.”

  It was a painful scramble back down the riverbank to retrace their steps, but they found it. On one side of the bank, the water had worn a depression in the river wall and then receded away, leaving a small cave. Some grass grew at the opening to provide cover. It wasn’t great, but it would have to do. They climbed into the cramped space and sat there, leaning their heads against the packed dirt as they struggled to catch their breath.

  “So what happened?” Tristam finally asked.

  Kyra sighed and closed her eyes. “James caught me at the Guildhouse. We fought. He won. I thought I was going to die, but the Demon Riders rescued me.”

  “Do you know why they helped you?”

  Kyra paused. “The Demon Riders thought I was one of them.”

  “That’s very strange.”

  She pulled her knees closer and hunched over, aware of his eyes on her and unable to face him. It had taken him long enough to trust her when he’d thought her simply a criminal. What would he think now, if he knew she was kin to the creatures who’d now killed two of his comrades?

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.

  To her surprise, he didn’t press her. “I guess this means you’re not one of them? Are you coming back to Forge?”

  Kyra chuckled bitterly, wondering if Tristam had any idea what the question meant. She didn’t regret her decision to run. There was no way she could have stood by as they killed Tristam. But at the same time, there was still so much she didn’t know about the Makvani. Would she ever go hunting again? Was that side of her lost forever? “I need to speak with Malikel,” she said. “James is planning another raid. I found ten vials of blueflower extract in his study.”

  “Blueflower extract?” Tristam’s half-closed eyes fluttered open. “That’s strange. Who do you think he’s after?”

  “I don’t know. The Council perhaps?”

  “The Council only has twenty members. He could poison five times that number with ten vials.”

  “The Palace guards, then?”

  “Not enough for that. We have a regular force of two hundred.” Tristam closed his eyes. “You’re right. We do have to tell Malikel.”

  Minutes ticked into hours, and Kyra lost track of time. Their hiding place was damp. The dirt was moist, and occasional sprays from the river carried the promise of a chilly night. The sound of Tristam’s breathing next to her became labored and shallow. She took his hands and tried to rub heat into his icy fingers. He acknowledged her efforts with a glance, but otherwise lay back against the dirt wall, unmoving.

  She climbed to her feet. “I’m going to look around.”

  Kyra didn’t smell the cats as she made her way up the bank. Perhaps the search had moved on. But the scent hit her again as soon as she topped the slope. Kyra bit her lip and climbed back down. She needed some way to make them leave.

  “Do you have bandages under your tunic?” she asked Tristam.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Let me look at them.”

  Tristam looked confused, but peeled off his tunic, grimacing when he had to move his injured arm. Spots of blood seeped through the top layer of his bandages.

  Kyra scooted closer and unwrapped them, careful to keep the cleaner layers free of dirt. She had to look away briefly when she unraveled the rest. The muscles of his shoulder bore deep, ragged wounds, and she definitely smelled infection.

  Noticing her reaction, Tristam gave a wan smile. “I’d hoped you’d be more impressed at my battle-hardened brawn.”

  It would have been funnier if his voice hadn’t been quite so weak. Kyra squeezed his arm. “Once we get you sewn up, you’ll be plenty impressive.”

  She briefly wondered if her saliva had any healing properties, but her stomach flipped and she dismissed the idea. The Makvani only cleaned wounds in cat form anyway. Her best bet was to get Tristam back to Forge.

  The inner bandages were soaked through with blood, and she tore that part off, rewrapping the rest as best she could. It bothered her how passive Tristam was acting. He was more lethargic than he’d been even half an hour before, and he was shivering, even though he was clearly trying to hide it. She took his arm to thread it back into his tunic. His skin was hot to the touch and damp with sweat.

  “Tristam.” She spoke slowly and clearly. “I’m going to take your bandages outside and away from here. Maybe the scent will lead the search somewhere else. We need that blind to escape.”

  He shifted and looked at her. “You’re going to try to lead them away?”

  “Aye, you stay here. I’ll come back.”

  “It’s not worth the risk. Just try to get to Forge and send help.”

  “You won’t last that long, not with all of them looking for you. Just stay put.”

  She grabbed the bandage and crawled out before he could argue. At the top of the bank, she looked around again. Where could she go? After a moment’s hesitation, she picked a direction and ran. She jumped over roots and ducked under branches, thinking just to get away from the river.

  After a while, brown fur flashed behind her and to the right. Someone had found her. She cut to the left and down a hill. The hard dirt pounded against her feet as she barreled down. A quick glance behind showed that her pursuer still trailed her, and if anything, was gaining.

  Desperate, she dove into a cluster of bushes and scrambled through, only to stop at a glimpse of white fur through the trees ahead of her. She turned again, willing herself to run faster. She could hear the cats behind her now, their footsteps heavy as they abandoned silence for speed. There was a rustle of branches in front of her, and a third demon cat dropped straight in her path, blocking her way. Kyra skidded to a stop as the two others closed in from behind. For a few long moments, they stayed there, the three cats ready to block any move she made. Then, a familiar yellow cat ran in, looked around, and slowly changed shape.

  Pashla hadn’t finished settling into her human form before she crossed over to Kyra and struck her across the face.

  T H I R T Y - E I G H T

  The blow knocked her to the ground. Kyra fought back a cry as her elbow skidded across the dirt.

  “This is how you repay me.”

  Kyra looked down, unable to meet Pashla’s eyes. It was true. Pashla had saved her life, fought for her, and taught her the ways of the clan. And Kyra had betrayed her.

  Pashla dragged Kyra to her feet and spun her to face the other three demon cats. “Back to Leyus.”

  They didn’t tie her up, but instead herded her back, one demon cat flanking Kyra on each side. When Kyra slowed, the cat behind her snapped at her heels. Kyra desperately scanned the trees ahead and behind her as they traveled. The cats were watching the path, not her. If she could break away for long enough to get to a hiding place…One cat turned its head and gazed at Kyra out of the corner of its eye, as if to assure her that they were indeed watching.

  Demon Riders were already gathered at the clearing when Kyra arrived. Had they assembled at her escape? No, most didn’t even look at her as she was brought in. They clustered in groups, deep in discussion. As her captors pulled a rope tight around her wrists, Kyra glimpsed Tristam, also captive, slumped against a tree. He raised his eyes to hers and then looked down again, as if he were too tired to meet her gaze.

  Pashla fixed Kyra with a burning stare. “Why did you do it?”

  Why? Because they were slavers. Because Kyra couldn’t stand by and watch them murder Tristam. Because all she wanted to do was go home and cry on Bella’s shoulder, but she couldn’t, because they’d killed Bella too.

  “I couldn’t let him die,” was all she said.

  “You failed. He will still die tomorrow, and now you will too.” Pashla’s tone was sharp with bitterness and regret. It looked like she would say more, but she turned and wove into the crowd of Demon Riders. Kyra let herself slump when Pashla left, but her respite was short-lived. When Pashla returned, Ley
us came with her.

  The head Demon Rider fixed his gaze on Kyra and Tristam, and Kyra suddenly felt deeply ashamed. The two of them, filthy and exhausted, must have looked pathetic. “Keep them apart. I will speak to them separately,” he commanded.

  Tristam threw one last glance back as two Demon Riders dragged him away. Others shoved Kyra against a tree, binding her tightly. At a nod from Leyus, everyone left except for two cats who watched from a distance. Kyra closed her eyes, digging for the resolve to face his questions.

  The Demon Rider spoke calmly. “You have betrayed the clan and thrown Pashla’s trust in her face. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “What will you do with me?” she asked.

  “I warned you. If you betray us, we will treat you like any other human. Even dying by our hands is more dignity than you deserve. Tomorrow, we return you to James to deal with as he wishes.”

  James. He was the reason for all of this. “You’re fools to deal with him. He’ll betray you as readily as he betrayed me.”

  “That’s enough.” Now Leyus was also angry. “Bold talk for someone who herself lied so readily. Or do you still expect us to believe that the knight is a stranger to you? That you have no ties to the Palace?”

  Kyra looked down, unable to answer, but then her eyes fell on Leyus’s hand. He was holding a parchment—a strikingly familiar one. “The map,” she blurted. “You have my map of the Fastkeep.”

  Leyus glanced at the parchment. “So you were the cartographer,” he said. “The map was well drawn.”

  Kyra stared at him with dread. “When is the raid?”

  “You worry too much about things that no longer concern you, halfblood.”

  He left before she could answer.

  Dawn was cutting through the mists when Kyra woke to the footsteps of unfamiliar Demon Riders. It was a cold morning, and moisture from the fog had settled on her skin while she slept. The Demon Riders didn’t speak as they led her back to the clearing, where the clan had gathered in its usual circle. Tristam was in the center, bruised and leaning on one of his guards for support. Next to him stood Leyus. Kyra steeled herself to join them, but to her surprise, her guards kept her at the edge of the circle.