“I require a basket,” she announced.
“A basket?” The man echoed.
“Yes, a basket.”
“Why?”
The longer he drew this out, the more likely it was that she would make a mistake. But if she managed to escape this prison, she’d need sustenance, as would the rest of her soldiers. Decisions made on full stomachs were always better than ones made in the desperation of hunger. “It is a long ride home in the middle of the night and I require food.”
“I’ll fetch one for you,” one of the men said.
Bethany gave him a quick nod and turned her gaze back to the man with the sword. “Do you lead the night guard?”
“I have the most experience.”
“Is that why you’re down here drinking the beer, instead of in the corridor doing your job?”
The other guards stopped moving. One took a step back. Off to the side, the man with the basket continued packing food, though he was now looking squarely at both of them and not at what he was doing. She saw him stuff the basket with pieces of leftover meat pie, bread, and cheese, though. Good. The elves could have the bread and cheese, and the humans could have the pies. Just a few more minutes and she’d be free. Almost there.
“You know, you look exactly like that woman we have down in the cellars.”
Bethany was saved by an involuntary yawn, because otherwise she would have probably gasped. “Yes, that’s my sister.”
“Is it, now?”
Bethany inclined her head. “We’re twins, actually.”
The man with the basket stopped his work. Shit. This wasn’t working. She knew as soon as she went for her blade, she’d be dead. There were five of them and only one of her. The others might have slipped through the opened door. She’d told them to run if this happened, but would they listen? Had any of them noticed the knives on the tables?
Jackson would probably stay, assuming he could stay upright. Myra would pass out. Bethany didn’t know Kia. Jonas seemed the kind to stay, but he was in horrible shape. He’d probably get himself killed.
So Bethany stared at the man, trying to infuse as much hatred into her expression as possible. Some of the others flinched. No doubt Sarissa had a reputation for brutality.
“How are the guards in the corridor?” The guard asked.
“Playing cards. The one with the brown jacket is cheating. I’d watch him, if I were you.”
The guard walked to the door, pointing a finger at Bethany as he walked by, as if marking her for death if the guards were dead. She returned his gesture with a derisive snort. He called out for the men down the way to answer if all was well. They shouted back it was.
“Satisfied?” Bethany asked, picking up her basket of food.
The guard inclined his head. “I’m very sorry, Lady Sarissa. I have to be cautious, you understand. I heard it took six men to hold down your sister, and that was while she was drugged.”
Bethany snorted. “She’s rather spunky, isn’t she?”
“Are you heading back tonight, then?”
Bethany nodded. “I hope to be back at the Abbey as soon as possible. My health isn’t the best right now.”
“Have a good journey.”
Bethany turned and then she realized something: the scar on her face. She’d forgotten the fucking scar.
It must have shown on her face because he grinned. “Yeah. You forgot to cover your scar. Good acting, though. You fooled the boys here. Not me. See, I was here when they brought you in. I helped locked you up.”
Bethany moved her hand to the hilt of her sword. She wrapped her fingers around it in a deliberate move. “I suggest you let me walk out that door.”
“You think you can take on all of us?”
“Yes,” she said, and brandished her sword.
There were four of them between her and the exit. Two others to her left. To her right was a work table; she could use that as a buffer when the others lunged at her. Hopefully, Jackson at least was still in the room.
And hopefully Myra wasn’t in the room to faint when the blood started to flow.
The main guard lunged at her and two of the others dropped with gurgling, wordless sounds.
Bethany blocked and stabbed the guard in the guts. He began screaming and shouting for help. The other guards turned, all with surprised expressions, to find Jackson and Jonas standing holding bloody kitchen knives.
Jackson hobbled across and managed to stab the injured guard through the windpipe with a tiny paring knife.
Bethany cut down two more guards with little effort. She held her sword up to the guard who’d packed her basket for her. He held his hands out. He’d not even drawn his sword yet.
“How many guards between here and the stables?”
“None, now,” he said feebly.
“Where are we?”
“Chateau—”
“I know, but where are we? Directions. Now.”
“Three days ride from the northern coast.” His voice shook. “Please don’t kill me.”
The man didn’t see Jackson sneak behind him. Bethany nodded and Jackson slit the man’s throat. He fell forward, blood spraying the basket.
“Fuck, Jackson. You could have avoided the food,” she complained. “Where are Kia and Myra?”
“Outside, getting the horses,” Jonas said. He moved slowly, wincing. “Jackson, help me bar the door.”
Bethany grabbed the end of the table and pushed it against the door to the stairs. She leaned over it to pull the latch. The three of them piled as much furniture against it as possible.
As they worked, she asked, “Why did you drop the…shield thing you had?”
“I couldn’t see proper with it up. I was almost kissing his neck before I was sure which part of the blur was real,” Jackson complained.
“Same with me,” Jonas said. “I was afraid I’d stab thin air.”
“Thanks for helping and disobeying orders.” Jackson snorted. “I couldn’t see where the door actually was with these assholes in the way. I had to kill them.”
Bethany smile and grabbed the basket of food. She tossed several pieces of blood-soaked food aside before saying, “This is pointless. Here, there’s two loaves still okay. Let’s get out of here.”
“You killed him.”
Bethany looked over her shoulder at Kia standing in the doorway. She paled in the firelight. She put her hand over her mouth and began to gag.
“Kia!” Bethany snapped. Not her as well. Had she ended up with all raw recruits? “We don’t have time for this. Get out there and get on a horse. Move!”
Kia stood there, staring at the blood, while Jackson and Jonas grabbed hunks off the untainted cheese wheel and stuffed their pockets. Bethany grabbed a loaf of bread and rushed out the door, dragging Kia with her.
“You killed him,” Kia sputtered. “He was surrendering. We’re not supposed to kill people who surrender.”
Bethany didn’t reply.
Myra offered her the reins to a horse. “The others just left. Let’s get out of here.”
Bethany took the shaking reins from Myra and looked behind her. “Jonas, do you need help mounting?”
He shook his head and pulled himself up, moaning in pain as he did.
Bethany grabbed Kia by the arm and squeezed until Kia grimaced in pain. “Kia, listen to me. You have to get up on your horse or you’re going to die. Be angry later. Right now, get on that damn horse or I’ll pick you up and put you on it.”
“Are you stealing the horses?” a small voice asked from the darkness.
Bethany shoved Kia out of the way and unsheathed her sword again. A small, dirty figure stepped from the shadows. Bethany swore under her breath. She saw the flickering of lanterns and candlelight in the windows on the second floor of the Chateau.
“Boy, go back wherever you came from,” she snarled.
“I’m not supposed to let people steal the horses,” he said. He was human and couldn’t have been more than seven or e
ight.
Bethany did not want to kill a child. She’d done enough of that in her life. She licked her lips. “Yes, we’re stealing horses. Now, go back to sleep.”
“They said I’ll lose my position if I lose the horses.”
“You’ll you lose your life if you try to stop me,” Bethany said. She glanced up at the windows. The archers couldn’t see them, but she could hear shouting on the balcony. Bethany tossed the boy the loaf from her belt pouch. “Eat that. When you’re done, start shouting that we stole the horses. Point in that direction.” She pointed to what she guessed was southeast from the stars.
“But…”
“Do it, boy.”
Kia said, very quietly, “We’re the good people. Those men kidnapped us. We’re trying to escape to get help.”
“Oh,” the boy said, taking the bread. By the giant bites he took, he was hungrier than she was. “You should burn the hay.”
“What?” Bethany asked.
He pointed at the hay loft. “It's full of hay still. I can let the horses out and then you can catch it on fire. It’ll burn the back of the house down for sure because some of it is made of wood.”
Bethany smiled and sheathed her sword. She vaulted up on her horse and said, “You’ll get caught. Don’t do that.” She pulled on the reins of her horse and said, “Let’s get out of here. Myra, in front. Lead the way.”
They galloped away and Bethany was thankful for the new moon in the sky. Head down, she leaned into her horse and followed Myra. Mud splashed around them and the wind cut through Bethany’s damp layers. She tried to keep the boy out of her head as she rode. Another couple of seconds and she’d have killed him to keep him quiet. She still wasn’t sure she’d done the right thing.
Did she need to kill that guard in the kitchen? Jackson did it, but she’d given the order. It might have been a nod, but it was still an order. It was still permission.
But right now, if they didn’t get to safety and hide, she’d be too dead to care what Kia thought of her.
A few minutes later, Bethany smelt smoke. She dared to look over her shoulder, saw the glow of flames licking up into the night sky, and smiled.
CHAPTER 14
Two Days Ago
It was four in the morning when Lendra broke into Bethany’s study, assuming sweet-talking the guard into letting her in counted as “breaking”. The bittersweet pill of her age meant that people didn’t take her seriously most of the time, but it also meant that they let her get away with far more than they should. A swift smile, a giggle, and a little pleading, and the older human guard couldn’t say no. She was just too cute.
Bethany wouldn’t have approved, but Bethany wasn’t here, was she?
Over the last six months, something had bugged Lendra. She’d tried to push it aside and forget about it. She had so much of her own work to do. There was much to accomplish and even more to learn. Bethany had had no interest in talking about the disappearance of her own Power, so Lendra tried not to think about it.
It was all part of Bethany’s habit of treating Lendra like a little girl who needed protecting and sheltering from the big bad world around them. Well, Bethany was the one who needed protecting now, and Lendra wasn’t going to push aside the questions any longer.
When Lendra was a little girl, she’d overheard Sarissa and Bethany arguing. Lendra was too young to understand most of it and she’d forgotten a lot over the years, but one thing always stood out to her. Sarissa asked Bethany if she ever wondered where their Power came from. Bethany never cared—to think about it was to admit who she was—but that question had always stuck with Lendra.
Where did Apexia’s Power actually come from?
Lendra skipped the front room of Bethany’s study. It was just her desk and the endless paperwork that came from holding an important position. Lendra was learning all about that, as she moved more and more into the official role as ambassador and diplomat. With Celeste’s death, many of those tasks Arrago sent in her direction. She felt ill-equipped to deal with them, but she tried as best as she could.
But being an Elorian raised by elves, Lendra shared quirks with Bethany. One of them would be having a journal; it was an elven thing. They’d been taught since they could write sentences to keep a diary of their lives. Most were meant to be private, though many elves in high positions kept journals they knew would one day be available for all to read.
She skipped over any place obvious. Bethany had an irrational fear of servants and chambermaids rooting through her belongings. So where would Bethany hide her journal? Lendra rummaged through the drawers but found nothing of importance. None of the drawers were locked, so Bethany wouldn’t have kept anything personal there.
Perhaps it was silly, but she wanted to see if her sister had any theories about the disappearance of her Power. Perhaps it was related to the Magical barrier Sarissa had created. Perhaps they could take it down somehow, if Lendra could only figure out what had happened.
The entire situation troubled her. Bethany had said she thought Sarissa stole her Power. But how did Sarissa get through the boundary without tearing it down? And if it was her, it meant that the Magical barrier could be torn open, at least temporarily. And that might mean Bethany, if she was still alive, could get her Power back. Maybe her Power was in the barrier. Or, maybe the barrier was preventing it from returning to Bethany. There had to be a reason why the Power hadn’t come back, and there had to be a way to make it right.
Lendra sat down on Bethany’s bed and frowned. The thought she’d been avoiding came to mind. Apexia could help. Why hadn’t her mother spoken to her in months? Why hadn’t she appeared to Bethany when she lost her Power? Something was not right and Lendra was determined to puzzle it out.
Lendra looked under Bethany’s bed and lifted the heavy, straw-stuffed mattress to look beneath. Nothing. Bethany’s bedroom was sparse; there weren’t many places to hide stuff.
She dug around in Bethany’s clothing trunk and was rewarded with a secret compartment. Lendra dumped the clothes on the floor and fiddled with the locking puzzle until she got it right and could remove the false wall. She sat back on the bed and moved the lantern to the side table for better light.
Lendra was never close to her sister. It was hard to be close to someone who awed her as much as Bethany did. Bethany was an icon for young elven and Elorian women. Bethany was an idol for girls like Lendra who didn’t just push, but bashed against the barriers elven culture forced on them. They all looked at Bethany and saw the proof that they, too, could break out of the prison of etiquette and polite superiority.
Had dinner with Lendra, as per usual. She is such an amazing young woman. It’s difficult for me to see her as anything other than a little girl some days, but she is far more than that. I need to stop underestimating her.
Tears welled up in Lendra’s eyes. “Oh, Bethany.”
There were more passages like that. Pages and pages of Bethany struggling to admit she was a caring, feeling person who loved deeply but silently. She loved Jovan and Kiner. She loved Arrago. She loved Allric, and Eve, and even Erem, which made Lendra smile.
Lendra keeps asking about Sarissa. I wish she wouldn’t. Jovan keeps telling me to be patient. I know she doesn’t have as many memories as I do. And I know he’s right, though I’d never tell him that. It hurts so much to talk about her. Talking about her means I have to remember all of the things that have happened. I have to remember how I tried to kill her—and thought I had. And I have to remember that I will, once again, face off with her and I will make sure this time that she stays dead, even if I have to cut her up into tiny pieces.
I can’t say that to Lendra. I can’t tell her that I need to forget Sarissa is a person, because I need to forget she is a person. If I remember that, or worse remember that she is my sister, my twin, my other self, I will never be able to stop her.
Maybe I should just ask Kiner to explain it to her. He’s better at this stuff than I am. I wish I was more like him.
I don’t know how to say the things in my heart. They are there, but I don’t even know how to make the actual words form. It sticks in my guts and won’t move.
Guilt stabbed Lendra’s heart. She’d never considered that Bethany had still loved Sarissa. How stupid of her not to even think about that! No wonder Bethany constantly pushed it off with jokes and insults. Lendra felt like the fool she was.
“Who’s in there?”
Lendra snapped up her head. Standing to the entrance to Bethany’s bedroom was Erem. Erem was a stunningly handsome man. He was wiry thin, but she’d seen him without a shirt a few times and he was quite muscular. Not like Jovan or Allric, but still, in his own way. Months outside had bleached his hair and, even though it was winter, his pale face was more tanned than usual.
His smile, though, was what Lendra adored the most about him. When he looked at her, the corners of his mouth always lifted in a slow, lazy fashion, as if time was moving slower then. It made her stomach do flips and…other parts of her, that she knew shouldn’t be tingling, were.
“You scared me,” she said breathlessly.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, his voice deflating. “I’ll go. Sorry.”
Erem turned to go, and Lendra remembered her words from before. He’d been avoiding her, and she’d not sought him out, either. “Please, don’t go. You’re not disturbing me.” She put the journal aside. “Erem…”
“You don’t have to say anything.” He didn’t look at her.
“I do. I’m sorry for all of it. For what I said and how I believed. I am very sorry.”
“I deserved it.”
His words weighed on her chest. “No, you didn’t. I was upset and…I wanted someone to blame. I’m sorry it was you.”
He still didn’t look up. “You should blame me.”
Lendra picked up the journal again, desperate to find employment for her fingers. If she didn’t, she might risk walking over to Erem and running them through his short hair. What was that like? She’d seen some of the men with the prostitutes down by the shore. Bethany usually didn’t let her near the brothels; she said Lendra wasn’t old enough to see some things. But Lendra knew how it all worked. And when she looked at Erem, she found herself wondering about trying it out. Then, just as quickly, shame filled her. Her sister might be dead. She was here to help Bethany if she could. This was Bethany’s room! And she’d been brought up to believe that she must strictly be…
Fury (Tranquility Book 3) Page 16
