The Edge of the Blade

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “Some surprise from Karyn there.”

  She sighed and stepped to the side of the hall, drawing me with her with a slim hand on my elbow. “I believe she feared she’d be poisoned if she stayed,” she told me in a low voice.

  Ah. “There are no secrets in the seraglio.”

  Inga tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Unfortunate that none of us predicted the reaction of His Imperial Majesty.”

  And that I hadn’t taken him out when I had the chance. With Kral stepping into Hestar’s shoes, Karyn would’ve been safe instead of facing a death I brought to her as surely as if I’d killed her myself. I had to take the chance. “Do you know where they’re holding her?”

  Inga studied me. “Yes. Do you mean to liberate her?”

  “If I can, and if you’ll tell me where to look.”

  “Tell me what you came here to discover.”

  Canny wench. But I had no time to put her off. My neck itched with the surety that Hulda would be upon me in a moment. Not to mention the penalty looming for that dead guard in the other room. I spoke fast and low. “There’s a man here, Kir, who sometimes wears pink robes. He’s a companion to the Emperor.”

  She nodded. “I know this man. A priest of Sól.”

  I snorted at that. “Where is Karyn being held?”

  “Why do you care about this priest?”

  “Can we walk and talk?”

  “No.” She added a serene smile.

  Danu take her. “We believe he means to cause trouble for the Thirteen. That he’s here to collude with . . .” Damn it, I slammed face-first into that weird memory hole.

  “The Temple of Deyrr,” she supplied. “I agree. He’s friendly with the High Priestess.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  Inga looked faintly surprised. “Surely you do. She greeted you by name in the seraglio earlier today.”

  The pretty blonde who’d waved right before I felt ill. This was bad. She’d done something to me, I felt sure of it. Not Hulda. Deyrr. I needed to escape this place.

  But not without Karyn.

  Shouts echoed down the hall. My time was up. Inga’s eyes flicked to it and back to me. “The third tower, top cell. It won’t be easy. I’ll wish you luck anyway.”

  “Thank you.” I almost didn’t ask, but... “You could come with us.”

  She shook her head, as if she’d anticipated me. “I’m needed here. However, if you do get out and care to . . . establish an exchange of information? You know where to find me.”

  Impulsively I kissed her, then gave a cheeky grin at her startled expression. “If you feel moved to distract my pursuers . . .”

  “Go.”

  Her laugh followed me down the hall as I took off at the fastest pace that wouldn’t make it look like I was running away from something. Third tower. I might as well head there directly. It could make sense to hide out until the wee hours, but instinct shouted that every passing minute brought me closer to discovery and Hulda’s revenge.

  No, the smartest bet was to get to Karyn before it occurred to anyone that’s what I’d do.

  I ducked out of the main hall at the next intersection, then found a narrow stairwell to the servants’ corridors. Once there, I moved faster, following my mental map through the branching passages, making my way to the warren of supply rooms that lay far under the third tower. I passed any number of servants, who looked surprised by my presence but only bowed and did not question me. At least I had that much advantage.

  I hadn’t been in the third tower yet, though we’d passed it on Kral’s tour of all things jurisprudence. Should’ve guessed that’s where they’d hold prisoners, convenient to all those judgment and sentencing halls. If they planned to burn Karyn, that would almost certainly be outside. Wouldn’t want to stink up the Imperial Palace with the stench of burning human flesh. I’d had plenty of experience with that miasma, even if I hadn’t actually helped burn Illyria’s living dead.

  Illyria. Deyrr. Something there, but what? Maybe I should find that fucking High Priestess and kill her. I could make a rampage of it, run around the palace killing as many of the people who’d pissed me off as I could before they took me out. A reasonably fine way to go.

  If I didn’t owe it to Karyn to get her out.

  Danu, if you get me out of this alive, I’ll never try to fix anyone’s life again. Or make bets. Or fuck married men. Or any men.

  About twenty other character flaws occurred to me to promise to fix, but I didn’t want to overcommit. Besides, I’d reached the narrowing part of the tower and had to exit the servants’ corridors again, so I needed to focus on stealth.

  Would it have killed Sunniva and Runa to make me a black costume?

  Keeping to the shadows and quieter halls, I made my way floor by floor, altering the stairwells I used, though always choosing the dustiest. Once I was forced to hide behind a larger-than-life bust of Hestar holding scales, apparently dispensing justice, markedly without his broadsword. That artist had a vivid imagination. The noblemen passed by without noticing me, laughing as they discussed their plans for some hunting excursion. Lucky bastards. I had no idea how I’d get Karyn out, over that drawbridge. Maybe she could swim. I could chuck her into the lake, wave good-bye and good luck, and then . . . what?

  Maybe she could swim and drag me with her. Ha!

  Finally I reached the top floor, which seemed to contain more than one cell, thank you, Inga. However, guards in full armor stood before only one of the solid doors, at the end of a long corridor. With no convenient alcoves to hide me. Wonderful. Nothing to do but brazen it out. I hadn’t followed through with my plan to rescue Dafne from Nakoa’s palace; by Danu, I’d get Karyn out or die trying.

  Bryn never look back.

  They follow you back to your hole, another voice whispered in my head.

  On the plus side, if I died, I wouldn’t have to worry that I was losing my mind.

  Palming several daggers, I pumped breath in Danu’s Cycle, then burst into the hallway, running at top speed and yelling a Bryn war chant.

  One guard goggled in shock, but the other drew his sword and ran straight for me. Fortunately for me, he didn’t take the time to drop his visor, so I felled him with a dagger in the eye. Should’ve been Hestar. The other guard recovered and pulled a broadsword from his back sheath, taking a fighting stance. Just like the good old days, sparring with the Vervaldr and their bloody big weapons. Without pause, I engaged. The surprise helped. These Dasnarians always expected fighters to square off. Come hunt Tala criminals in the hills with me sometime and I’ll teach you not to square off.

  The Vervaldr never wore this hard armor, though, so it took me a few tries before I found a chink in the join between plates. With me inside his reach, the guard couldn’t quite get his sword into me, but he was smart enough to punch me with a mailed fist. Rang my bell pretty good. Didn’t hit me hard enough to knock me out, though, and that was his last mistake. I got my big blade under the chin guard and through his throat before he could clonk me again.

  Thank you, Mother.

  I waited a moment, to see if my noise would bring anyone running, but my luck—such as it was—held. The key to the locked door hung conveniently nearby. I wouldn’t be able to count on this level of complacency for much longer. The mechanism worked much as on the other doors I’d observed, so I got it open quickly to find a wide-eyed Karyn backed against the wall of the windowless chamber, looking like a cornered doe expecting the arrow to hit home.

  “I’m here to rescue you. Let’s go.”

  She gaped at me. “Why would you—”

  “I hate the stink of burning person,” I snapped. “We can have a long conversation later. Move.”

  She moved. Surprisingly fast, too. Still wearing all of her jewelry, she chimed as she ran beside me, otherwise reasonably quiet on her bare feet. We made it to the disused stairwell, and I made her stop. “We need to lose the bells. As much of the glitter as possible, too.”

  For on
ce she didn’t argue, efficiently stripping off bracelet, armbands, and the jingling chains that decorated her ankles and feet. I prowled down to scout out the level below. Quiet and empty. Good news, and yet . . . I didn’t like this.

  Karyn had tucked up her klút, tying the tails between her legs.

  “Good idea,” I said, somewhat surprised.

  She grimaced. “Country girl. Better for running, riding, and climbing trees.”

  “Smart. I don’t suppose you can swim?”

  “Of course.”

  Of course. Okay, all I needed to do in a pinch was get her to a point where she could jump in the lake. Hopefully the dark night would cover her from all the guard. I’d take her through personally if I could, but that would be the last-ditch effort. I explained the plan to her as we made our way from floor to floor.

  “I can’t jump in that lake,” she hissed at me. “It’s ice water. I’ll die before I reach the shore.”

  “Possibly freeze or definitely burn—take your pick. I called it a last-resort solution for a reason.”

  “What’s the first resort?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I muttered.

  “I couldn’t hear you.”

  “I’m working on it. Now, be quiet.” Mostly I was praying to Danu for some kind of divine intervention, and look how well that had worked out so far.

  The servants’ corridors had to be the best bet. If we could work our way around to the side of the palace where the stables stood, we’d at least be out of the main defensive areas. Once they discovered Karyn’s escape, they’d focus on that damn bridge, knowing we’d have to cross it. Even if we made it to the bridge before they were onto us, we’d never get through all those guard posts. We’d be swimming for it regardless. It was the only way out, which meant I’d have to do it. All kinds of animals swam—how hard could it be? And the exertion would keep us warm. Water shouldn’t be any different.

  We ran through the maze of the corridors, astonished servants flinging themselves to the ground to bow before Her Imperial Highness. At least they didn’t dare try to stop her, if they even knew what had happened. We were one level below the open deck that led to the stables, so I turned us into an empty stairwell that went up.

  And ran straight into a pack of guards.

  These were on alert, visors down and swords already drawn. I thrust Karyn behind me and went on the attack. There were too many. I went into a Whirling Wind pattern, big knife in one hand, smaller blade in the other, but their armor made it nearly impossible to get any kind of damage in. They moved together, boxing me in and trapping me against a wall.

  “Run!” I yelled at Karyn. “Run for the lake!”

  But they already had her, several guards holding her while she fought tooth and nail, a spitting, hissing wildcat of a woman. Too bad we’d both die now—I could have taught her how to use that fighting spirit.

  The guards had me at sword point. Behind them, Hulda came down the hall, more guards with her. I knew then with crystal clarity why my mother wanted me to have her knife, wanted me to know her story. See you soon, then, Mother. I lifted the knife to my throat with a sense that all my life had headed straight to this moment.

  25

  “No!” The thundering voice rang out.

  And—fuck me—I faltered at the anguish in Kral’s shout. Just enough hesitation for a guard to knock the blade from my hand. They seized me, one ruthlessly yanking my hands behind my back, binding them there. I struggled, but too late.

  Kral stopped before me, stricken. “What have you done?” he whispered hoarsely. Don’t make me watch you die.

  “Crimes for which she will face His Imperial Majesty’s justice,” Hulda announced, threading her arm through Kral’s. “It seems you will suffer the loss of both wife and rekjabrel by morning. Take her to face judgment.”

  Shaking her off, Kral put a hand on my arm, leaned in. “I asked you for one thing.”

  “So did I. Why did you stop me?”

  “I . . .” He gathered himself. “It wasn’t a conscious decision.”

  “Your Imperial Highness,” a guard began, but Kral cut him off with an impatient jerk of his hand.

  “For my favor,” I whispered with urgency, “if they don’t execute me cleanly, have someone kill me. Don’t let them send me to those entertainment salons.”

  His expression broke into something I’d never seen on his face. A kind of agony that hurt me to see. “I can’t—”

  “You owe me,” I spat in his face. “If you care anything for me, for your honor, you’ll see to it.”

  He drew in a ragged breath, dragged a hand over his face. “I’ll find a way to stop this.”

  “That would be nice.” Absurdly, I laughed. Better than raging or weeping, but Kral looked at me strangely. Oh, yeah, I’d definitely lost my mind. “If you can’t,” I told him, “I mean it. A clean execution. You don’t have to watch. That is, Kral . . . Just don’t watch, okay?”

  “Enough of this,” Hulda declared. “The Emperor will be waiting. He won’t be happy to have been dragged from his entertainments.”

  They took me to the great hall of judgment, tying me to the post on that little platform. Very quickly the tiers of observation seats filled, entirely with men. Then Hestar arrived. Kral did not.

  Which was fine by me. I’d told him not to watch, and I’d meant it. I could probably get through this with my head held high, but watching him suffer might break me. In a surreal way, the moments ticking by felt like afterlife already. I should have died the moment I put my mother’s blade to my own throat. All of this time after felt borrowed. Not an extra life anymore, not for this kitty cat. Somewhere along the way I’d lost count and used them all up.

  Hestar interrogated. I stayed silent. He threatened, and I prayed to Danu.

  Not for rescue, because I knew that to be impossible, but to die a good death. Not broken and begging. And I prayed that the goddess would guide my queen, that the Thirteen wouldn’t fall to these people.

  Hestar slapped me across the cheek. A weak blow for a guy that big—I’d bet Karyn could hit harder—but he got me exactly where the one guard had punched me. Nothing like a big abrasion and forming bruise to scream, “Hit me here.” I’d forgotten about it, but it stung like Danu’s tits.

  “Do I have your attention now, Ambassador?” He sneered.

  I spat in his face.

  The crowd of men went into a frenzy. Apparently one does not spit in a semi-divine being’s face. Slowly and with a horrifically icy gaze, Hestar wiped my spit from his cheek, then smeared it over mine, grinding the heel of his hand into my bruised cheekbone, my skull into the hard post.

  “I’m glad it’s come to this, man-woman,” he crooned, quietly enough that no one could overhear, though they’d fallen into silence once more. “I’m going to kill you myself, after I’ve had my fill of you. I’ll find out exactly what you have of a woman, and then I’ll cut them off piece by piece. All this lovely dark skin—but I’ll bet you have pink bits, too. You’ll have more in another hour. You like knives. You’ll enjoy mine as I peel this skin off.”

  I glared into his face, wishing beyond reason that I could free just one hand long enough to pull the shirikin from my headdress and plunge it into one of those hate-filled eyes.

  “Harlan gave me a message for you,” I said.

  That gave him pause, just a moment’s worth, but enough that I registered it as a direct hit. “I have no interest in a traitor’s words. His or yours.” He started to turn away.

  “He told me a story, about a woman named Jenna.” I don’t know what possessed me to say it, but that stopped him. “He set her up as a queen in a foreign land, where she commands armies of shape-shifters. Dragons fly at her bidding and sorcerers work powerful magics. Rooms filled with treasure. She’s coming for you, Hestar. Harlan told me to tell you that. Her forces are beyond mighty. She’ll kill you, and all of your children, then take her rightful place as Empress.”

  He didn’t loo
k at me, the line of tension across his shoulders speaking volumes.

  “I find her guilty,” he announced to the room, who politely applauded. “Take her to the entertainment salons.”

  I fought them, of course, but they were wise to me, piling on enough guys that I couldn’t get away from one without running into another. Finally they had enough rope on me that I couldn’t move, and one simply flung me over his shoulder and carried me there.

  If I got a hand free, I’d use a shirikin to kill myself. Not as easy, but the desperation should help. Unfortunately, they took me to a central interior chamber and chained me to a raised platform, spread-eagled on my back—including a band around my throat—before cutting away the last of the ropes. Though they left me there, no matter how I strained against the cuffs, I couldn’t get a hand near my head.

  To fend off utter despair, I studied the room, planning how I’d escape if I could. I recognized the place, of course, and remembered seeing Kir there with Hestar. And someone else, whose face remained a blur. It had to have been her, she who messed with my mind. She greeted you by name.

  A door opened behind me, where I couldn’t see. Terror, brittle as ice, shredded my gut.

  “You’d better kill me fast, Hestar, because I will fucking destroy you at the first opportunity!” I shouted.

  “Always with that smart mouth.”

  Kral.

  He strode past me, taking the key from the wall, and came to the platform, rapidly unlocking the cuffs. I couldn’t quite process what was happening. Unable to keep up with events, my emotions stayed with terror. So I handled it as I always did. “You know, you Dasnarians shouldn’t leave keys so near prisoners. It makes things too easy.”

  He flicked an icy, unamused glance at me. “Once we’re safely away from here, you can bitch about ‘too easy.’” He helped me sit up. Yeah, I was a little woozy. He ran his hands over me, expression full of that concern that undid me every time. “How bad are you hurt—can you run?”