The crowd shifted at the sound of approaching hoofbeats, and three riders came into view. Even from his outline amidst the haze, Kyra recognized James. The scar on her stomach throbbed, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. If they untied her, she didn’t know if she’d go for his throat or flee.
The circle opened into a horseshoe to let in the newcomers, and Kyra’s guards pulled her behind the other Demon Riders, hiding her from view. Kyra recognized Alex’s black locks and Shea’s quick stride. They stayed back while James dismounted to greet Leyus, and Kyra strained to hear the conversation. Everyone else must have been doing the same, because the two men’s voices echoed unchallenged through the forest.
“How did you find him?” James asked.
“He was prying around the forest. We killed his companion but kept him alive.”
“I am grateful,” said James as Shea and Alex unloaded several saddlebags. “Here are fifty sets of winter garments, made from Forge’s best imported silk. The cloth wicks sweat away from your skin, keeps you dry in the cold.”
Leyus opened the case and nodded approval. At his signal, Tristam’s handlers pulled him toward James. The knight stumbled, then shook off his guards to take the last few steps to James himself.
James bowed. “Sir Tristam of Brancel. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Even from that distance, she caught the mockery in his voice. The assassin turned to Leyus. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, as always. You’ll get the other half of the payment after the next raid.”
“We’ve studied your maps,” said Leyus. “It won’t be a problem if you provide the diversion you promised.”
Kyra’s entire body clenched, and she leaned closer. Diversion? Was that what the blueflower extract was for?
“It’s taken care of,” said James. “Just be careful inside the compound. I need enough left alive to keep Forge running. A city in anarchy is of no use to me.”
“I will send my most experienced cats in there. They won’t lose control.”
“Then we’ll meet again soon,” said James. “Do try the garments and let me know if they’re to your liking.”
As he turned away, Leyus spoke again. “There is one more prisoner you might be interested in.”
Kyra’s guards dragged her forward. James’s eyes widened and he wheeled on Leyus, furious.
“Why is she still alive? Your people told me they’d feed her to your cats.”
“We had need of her.” Leyus’s tone held no hint of an apology. “But now we’re through. She is yours to deal with as you please.”
“It’s not like you to treat our agreements so loosely.”
“This was a special case. I assure you it will not happen again.”
For a moment, James glared at Leyus. But he was outnumbered, and judging from the frustration in his eyes, he was all too aware of it. Kyra only had a moment to savor this small victory before he turned to her.
“She’s too good at staying alive,” James murmured. He reached for Kyra. She tried again to break free, but her guards still held her with a bruising grip. Gathering what moisture was left in her mouth, Kyra spat in his face. It was a pathetic attempt, but James’s jaw tightened.
“This time I’ll make sure you’re dead.” James unsheathed his dagger and stepped close to her. “You say she’s mine to deal with, Leyus?”
“Do as you wish.”
Kyra felt the entire clan watching as James raised the blade. In the corner of her eye, she saw Tristam straining against the assassins holding him. She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing nothing but the sound of her own harsh breathing. She felt her guards behind her, muscles taut in preparation for any final escape attempt. So this was it. She’d die here, and the clan would attack the Palace, killing all of Malikel’s people in exchange for a hundred winter garments.
A hundred winter garments, to be worn close to the skin.
Ten vials of blueflower extract.
“Poison!” she shouted.
James’s blade halted.
“James has betrayed you, Leyus.” Kyra spoke in a jumble, desperate to get the words out before James slit her throat. “The garments are poisoned.”
Strong arms jerked Kyra back and a Demon Rider pushed himself between her and James.
The assassin’s eyes narrowed. “You said you wouldn’t interfere, Leyus.”
“I will hear her out,” Leyus said. He came to stand in front of Kyra. “What do you mean?”
Kyra heard a hiss from Tristam’s direction. The knight was looking at her, eyes wide with realization, and she knew he’d come to the same conclusion. Kyra ran her tongue over dry lips, willing her heartbeat to slow. “The night Pashla found me, I raided James’s study. He had ten vials of blueflower extract in his poison chest. I believe he’s used it to taint the garments he just gave you.”
“The girl grasps for anything to delay her death,” said James. “Why would I poison you on the eve of our biggest raid?”
“Because it’s a slow poison,” said Kyra. “You’d be fine for the raid, even for several weeks afterward. But once the winter’s over and you’ve outlived your usefulness, you’ll sicken and die.”
Leyus looked slowly from Kyra to James and back. “Do you have proof?”
“Ten vials is enough to poison a hundred garments. And James has just delivered fifty garments to you, with the promise of fifty more….” Kyra trailed off as she realized how flimsy her logic was. It was a stretch, she realized. But there was something about her suspicion that felt right. This was something James would do. He needed the Demon Riders in order to weaken the Place, but he wasn’t a fool. James knew that his alliance with the Makvani was tenuous at best. They bore no loyalty toward him, and he’d always been careful to eliminate threats preemptively, before they had a chance to strike.
Leyus’s expression changed from concern to disdain. “You disappoint me, Kyra, grasping at stories to add a few more moments to your life. You disgrace your blood heritage.”
Blood heritage. Kyra clung to those words as her last hope. “If you really acknowledge my blood, grant me my right of Challenge.”
A shocked silence followed her statement. Then, a murmur ran through the crowd.
“Explain yourself,” said Leyus.
James eyed her suspiciously, but Kyra ignored him and plunged forward. “Let me face the one who would kill me, in combat.”
“You make a mockery of the Challenge,” said Leyus. “It is a right of someone who has something to lose, not a last-ditch option for a prisoner about to die.”
“I don’t want to Challenge for my life. You can kill me either way.”
Leyus came closer. “What do you mean?”
“Let me fight for the right to prove myself,” said Kyra. “If I lose the Challenge, so be it. But if I win, let me take the garments to a healer who can test them for poison. If I’m wrong, you can kill me then.”
Around her, the murmurs died down, and all eyes turned to Leyus.
James spat on the ground. “My patience is wearing thin, Leyus. How long will you humor the girl’s attempts to delay the inevitable?”
Leyus examined Kyra’s face, deep in thought. “Very well. I grant your request.” He turned to James. “You heard her. Will you take the Challenge? If you do not wish to fight her, we can guard her until we test the garments.”
“I refuse to play your games,” said James. “When you start honoring our agreements again, we can do business. But until then, we part ways.” He spun back toward his horse. Alex and Shea picked up the bags of clothes.
“Where are you taking the garments?” asked Leyus.
“If your people can go back on a deal, so can I. Keep Tristam. Come find me when you’ll trade honestly,” said James.
“Is that the real reason, James?” Kyra asked loudly. “Or are you taking them back so they can’t be tested for poison?”
James rounded on her and slapped her across the face. “I won’t have you here corrupting their minds against
me,” he hissed. Kyra blinked the tears from her eyes, holding her breath until the blow’s sting faded. She had never seen James lose his composure like this, and it both frightened her and convinced her that she was right.
The assassin turned to Leyus. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll accept the terms of your Challenge. Untie and arm her if you must, but she’s caused me too much trouble to leave her here alive.”
“So you’ll fight her?” asked Leyus.
“Aye.”
Suddenly, a Demon Rider was cutting the bindings around Kyra’s wrist. Blood rushed into her hands, followed by tiny needles that stabbed her fingers. She stumbled forward, reeling at the turn of events. Leyus handed her a knife. “You fight now, as you are.”
The circle had already begun to expand, its members making as much room as they could for the combatants. James shed his cloak and stretched his arms and legs, watching Kyra from a distance. She could feel him making note of everything she did, every stumble. Kyra was all too aware of her weak legs as she tried to walk some life into them. The last two times she’d fought James, he’d beaten her easily. How could she hope to face him after a night’s imprisonment? She shook out her limbs again. No matter. Better to go down fighting.
James regarded Leyus warily. “Your word, then. No interference.”
“My people will stay out of this, as will yours.”
Kyra saw a few Demon Riders move closer to the other two assassins. Then Leyus nodded and backed out of the circle. It was a clear signal to begin. Kyra gripped her blade tight.
James focused his eyes on Kyra and advanced slowly. “What’s your secret, Kyra? Why can’t I get rid of you?”
Kyra backed away, staying out of his reach. “Lucky, I guess.”
“I think it’s more than that. It really is a pity. You could have become one of our best.”
She knew he was trying to distract her, to provoke a reaction so she’d drop her guard. Still, his words were oddly hypnotic.
“From the first time I saw you work,” said James, “I knew you were different. You’re the closest I’ve ever seen to a natural assassin.”
James attacked before he finished the sentence. Kyra jumped aside but lost her balance and tripped. She scrambled up and out of his reach, curving her path to avoid running into the Makvani. Kyra had a feeling they’d throw her back in if she came too close.
“You’re beautiful to watch, you know,” James continued, as if they’d been talking all along. “Your grace—it’s impossible to ignore. Even now, when we’re at each other’s throats…Did you notice the way my men looked at you? Especially after watching you break into the armory. And it wasn’t just them.” He paused. “Maybe that was the problem. As an assassin, I valued your skill. But though I knew better, my admiration grew beyond just business.”
A shudder ran through Kyra’s body, and she was grateful she couldn’t see Tristam’s reaction. A couple of months ago, such an admission from James would have enthralled her. But that was before she had killed for him. Before he’d murdered Bella.
James lunged again, and this time she ducked aside without falling. He was slower than she remembered. Last time they’d fought, he’d been impossibly fast. Was he teasing her now?
“Remember the afternoon we spent planning the raid?” James asked.
She did. And she remembered what happened afterward. She pushed the memory away and feinted to the left. James stepped aside, but again, not as quickly as she’d expected. Kyra searched his face for any sign that something might be wrong, but as always, James was a master at hiding his feelings.
“We really do have a lot in common,” said James. “We think the same way. We both enjoy the thrill of the chase, of outsmarting our enemies. Tell me you didn’t get a thrill from bringing the wallhuggers down a notch. You loved that power. I dare you to deny it.”
She wanted him to be wrong. She needed him to be.
“So you don’t deny it,” said James.
The rock Kyra stepped on tipped over and she stumbled. In a heartbeat, he was on her, blade coming down at her face. She recoiled and gasped as it glanced off her collarbone. Kyra drove her own knife up and jumped to her feet as James skipped back unscathed. Kyra kept her dagger between them, breath coming in quick gasps as she probed her collarbone with her free hand. Her fingers came away sticky, but at least she could move.
The pain snapped her out of his spell. Kyra gripped her blade, shifting her weight back and forth. If James wanted her dead, he’d have to work for it. She had no intention of being an easy kill. James must have noticed her change of focus, because he stopped speaking. They circled each other, no sound between them but their breathing and the crunch of autumn leaves.
A few more feints and parries, and she realized why James seemed slow. He hadn’t changed. But after weeks of hunting with Pashla, Kyra had. Her senses were sharper, her reflexes smoother. Kyra saw her opponent now with new eyes. What if he were not James, the assassin she feared? What if he were her prey?
The next time he attacked, Kyra was ready. She danced aside and slashed at his knife arm. Her blade cut deep, and James’s weapon fell on the rocks with a satisfying clang. Kyra grabbed his tunic and pulled him close, pressing the point of her blade to his throat.
For an instant, they were frozen there, eyes locked, so close she could feel his lungs expand with each shallow breath. Kyra felt his body tense. She could kill him. She had every right. Around her, she sensed the energy from the crowd leaning in for the kill. She willed her wrist to deliver the final stroke.
A sudden blow to her midsection knocked the breath out of her. Kyra thrust her knife forward with all her strength, but James had already moved out of the way. He clamped his hand around her wrist and twisted. Pain shot up her arm and drove her to the ground. His knee dug into her back, forcing it into an unnatural arch.
And then the world imploded.
A fog covered her vision. Heat rushed through her, melting her insides and forcing its way out through her skin in the form of tiny hairs. Her clothes stretched tight, then ripped and fell away completely. Her bones elongated. Her muscles lengthened to match. A murmur ran through the crowd, and she realized what was happening. Finally, her vision cleared and the world came back, cleaner and crisper. In front of her, James stood, staring at her with disbelief and horror.
For a moment, Kyra stood dumbfounded, unsure in her new body. She tried to step forward but didn’t know which legs moved together. Behind her, she felt what must have been her tail, snaking back and forth as she shifted her weight.
Then James turned to run, and her instincts flared. She overtook him in two bounds and coiled around. Her claws opened three slashes across his chest and one across his face. It was so easy to push him over and pin him to the ground. As she held him there, she saw her forelimb for the first time. Dark brown, the same color as her hair, with wiry muscles underneath the fur.
James’s face, crisp in her strange new vision, held an expression she had never seen on him before—eyes rolled to the side, edges of his mouth pulled back in a grimace. He was scared. She could smell his fear, mingled with the blood that seeped through his cuts. She breathed in deeply, relishing the scent. A mere swipe from her and he would fall lifeless. Around her, she sensed the clan watching. She itched to tear him open, dig into his throat, but would the others interfere? Would they protect him? Instinctively, she knew that they wouldn’t. It was her kill, and they wouldn’t intrude. Kyra unsheathed her claws.
The circle, the victim, the smell of fear and blood…
She’d been here before. There was something she needed to remember. It was hard to make sense of these memories with this bloodlust urging her toward her victim. Kyra raised her claws to strike.
Then she remembered. The dream. The raid. Once again, she felt the manservant sink to the ground as the life drained out of him. Kyra saw herself in the courtyard of the Assassins Guild, shaking with horror as she scrubbed an innocent man’s blood off her hands.
Kyra sheathed her claws just before her blow connected. James’s head smashed against a rock, and he went limp.
T H I R T Y - N I N E
Kyra staggered back, tripping over her own legs. Already, her body was melting into itself. Her fur smoothed out into skin. A chill wind brushed her, and Kyra realized she was naked. Demon Riders surrounded her and guided her limp arms into a tunic.
She was drowning in images—like the pictures from her nightmares, but so much stronger. She tried to distinguish dream from reality, cat instincts from human, but everything slipped away.
“Take care of the other two,” she heard Leyus say.
Kyra looked up to see Shea and Alex scramble onto their horses and flee into the trees. Five demon cats streaked after them. Something stirred within her. She longed to join the chase, bring the riders down and tear them to pieces. A growl stirred at the base of her throat.
“Kyra!” Pashla was shaking her, hard. “It is done. Stay with me.”
The head Demon Rider drew near, looking Kyra over carefully. “Our blood runs stronger in you than we thought,” said Leyus. Was he pleased? Angry? She turned again to follow the chase.
“You have defeated James in Challenge,” Leyus was speaking again. “We will honor your request to test the garments.”
Garments…Slowly it came back to her. She had wanted to test the garments for poison. “We need someone who knows poisons,” she said, her words and the thoughts behind them thick and unfamiliar.
They were interrupted by the sound of Tristam coughing, a dry, rasping sound. The knight was curled in on himself, spasming with each cough. He looked so weak. Puny, even.
“You don’t need a healer,” Tristam said, raising his face to Leyus. “Just check his hands.”
Leyus snapped an order and Tristam’s guards dragged him over. The young knight was staring openly at Kyra. She stared back, blinking in confusion. Was that fear in his eyes? Part of her relished it, but another rapidly returning part of her was ashamed.
“What did you say, knight?” Leyus said.
Midnight Thief Page 27
