She remembered the cold blue eyes of Harrison Vane, the former First Blade who’d tried to kill her. If she’d looked harder, deeper, would she have seen the same hurt? If she’d been less afraid, could she have reached out to him too? That’s what Leith had tried and failed to do with Vane. He’d tried again with Ranson.
Not everyone could be helped. Some, like Vane, wouldn’t hear even at the end. But that didn’t mean she had to give up trying. She had a little over a week left. She had to make that count for something.
First things first. Renna squared her shoulders. “You said Leith stitched a wound? That must’ve been a week or more ago. Those stitches have to come out, unless you pulled them out already.”
“No, I didn’t. I…” Ranson swallowed.
Based on the gray cast to his face, he was squeamish. Not a good quality in a Blade. Renna pointed at her cot. “Sit. I’ll take the stitches out. I’m a trained healer. Where were you wounded?”
He eyed her as if debating whether risking punishment was worth her help. “You’re going to help me?”
The look in his eyes, like he’d been kicked too many times yet still wanted to trust someone, tore at her. Until Leith, how many people had ever offered him a kindness? She gave him a gentle smile. “Yes, I’ll help. Leith told you I would, didn’t he? You trusted him. You can trust me.”
For a long moment, he didn’t move as his gaze searched her face. The set of his jaw relaxed. He eased onto the cot, unbuckled his belt, and set it next to him. With one hand still on his sheathed knife, he pulled up one side of his black shirt with the other. A six-inch scab ran along the last rib. Jagged stitches laced through the scab and healing skin.
Renna shook her head. What a mess. No wonder Leith had once cauterized his wound rather than pass off her stitching as his own. Aunt Mara would’ve barred him from ever touching a wound again.
Aunt Mara. Execution.
No, she mustn’t think about that now.
Renna knelt and inspected the wound. “Looks like it’s healing all right. But those stitches have to come out. Leave them in there any longer, and they’ll be stuck permanently.”
Ranson’s face turned a shade whiter. “Take them out. Please.”
She drew in a deep breath. She didn’t have her medical kit with its small knife to cut the stitches. “I’ll need to borrow your knife.”
He bolted to his feet, lines cutting across his face. “I knew you and Leith were being too nice. This was all a set up to get me here and give you a knife. You want to escape.”
Respen planned to execute her in a little over a week. Of course she wanted to escape.
But she had promised Respen she wouldn’t try to escape on her own. Perhaps she could argue that he’d broken his part of the promise by taking away her freedom to roam the castle. She could take Ranson’s knife and attempt it.
Yet something held her back. She was needed here, in this room right now. Ranson needed her. As did Martyn. Even Respen still needed her here. Maybe she didn’t want to marry him, but she had to reach out and try to touch that hurting part of him somehow and, perhaps through her, God would touch Respen too.
All that was more important than escaping her execution.
“I’m not going to escape, and I’m not going to hurt you. I promise all I’m going to do with your knife is cut the stitches.” Renna held his gaze. “Look at me. Even if I managed to get a hold of your knife, do I look like I could overpower you?”
She could stab him in the stomach while taking out the stitches, and he’d have to have inhumanly fast reflexes to stop her. But, she was a healer. She wasn’t about to stab him.
His wariness remained. She couldn’t blame him. If she escaped because of him, Respen would torture him, maybe even kill him.
“I’m a healer. It’s my duty to place the wellbeing of my patient above my own.”
Duty. The one creed that resonated with a Blade.
He drew his knife and held it out to her, hilt first. She took it. When she didn’t move, he returned to his seat on the cot and pulled up the corner of his shirt again.
That act of trust must’ve cost him dearly. She couldn’t waste it.
Renna knelt and eased the tip of the knife under the first stitch. Ranson flinched. Probably preparing for her to gut him where he sat.
The knife parted the thread easily. Trust a Blade to keep his knives well-sharpened. Instead of pulling out each thread as she cut them, Renna sliced through all the stitches and handed the knife back to Ranson. He sheathed it but kept a hand gripped around the leather sheath.
“You said you didn’t understand why Leith would help you.” Renna tugged on the first stitch. After a moment of resistance, it slid free of Ranson’s skin.
He sucked in a breath and nodded.
“Our faith calls us to kindness. To share the love we’ve been given with those God places in our path.” She tugged a few more pieces of thread free. “I never was very good at doing that. Not until Leith came along and showed me how to have courage to share my faith and give kindness freely.”
Ranson’s fingers flexed against the blanket. His jaw worked. Would he ask more questions? Or would he shut her words out the same way Martyn had?
She yanked at another thread. Only one more to go. She leaned in closer to pinch the tiny end.
“What’s going on here?”
The rock-hard voice whipped through the tiny room. Ranson bolted to his feet so fast his knee came close to smacking Renna’s nose. He thumped his fist across his chest. “First Blade.”
“What were you thinking? The door was open. You have a knife right there. What do you think the king would do to you—and to me—if she escaped?” Martyn jabbed Ranson in the chest with a finger. “Get out.”
Renna stood, rested a hand on Ranson’s arm to stop him, and faced Martyn. “I was removing Ranson’s stitches. I still have one left, so if you’ll let him sit back down, I’ll take care of it.”
Martyn glared at Ranson. “Leave.”
“But there’s one stitch left!”
“He’ll pull it out himself.” Martyn shoved Ranson toward the door. When Ranson caught his balance, he dashed from the room and down the hallway.
“And you—” Martyn whirled toward Renna and shook his finger at her nose. “Don’t you dare turn him like you did Leith. Don’t talk to him. Don’t even get close to him. Ranson is too young. Leith at least knew the consequences of listening to you. Ranson doesn’t. He can’t handle pulling out his own stitches. How do you think he’d handle torture?”
Renna took a step back. A tremble wiggled through her fingers. But she drew herself straight. “He came to me. He was looking for help. I gave it.”
“Well, don’t give it.” Martyn’s eyes blazed. His body shook with the force of his words.
“I know you’re just trying to protect him. And I know you were trying to protect Leith. But maybe they don’t need protecting. Maybe they need courage more.” She raised her chin. She wouldn’t back down. Not this time.
Martyn cursed and raked a hand through his hair. When he turned back to her, his face had smoothed into the same, hard lines he always wore. “Duty motivates just as well as courage. Now, we’ve delayed long enough. Come.”
Renna followed Martyn from her room. Instead of dragging her down three flights of stairs and over to the king’s apartments, he turned the other way and hauled her up the set of stairs to the final floor of the Blades’ Tower.
The Blades’ meeting room. She’d been there once before when Respen had ordered Leith to kill her and Brandi during the last Meeting of the Blades.
Yanking the door open, Martyn shoved her into the black room lit with only a single candle at the head of a long table. Renna swallowed. Shadows stalked the corners, slinking around the chairs and slithering beneath the table.
Martyn released her arm. She walked the length of the table, running her hand along the top of the chairs. She paused as she reached the chair to the right of the thr
one. This had been Leith’s seat as the First Blade and Harrison Vane’s before that. Now it was Martyn’s.
She crept to the other side of the room and touched the chains bolted to the wall. Dark stains marred the stones of the wall and floor. Dried blood. If not for Leith, her blood would’ve joined the stains on this wall.
“Seven failed Blades have died chained to that wall.” Respen’s deep voice rumbled from the darkness behind her.
She whirled. He stood near the head of the table, the shadows dancing through the candlelight across his face. That explained Martyn’s anger. If he hadn’t stumbled on them first, Respen would’ve seen Ranson talking to her.
Her heart vibrated a shuddering rhythm in her chest. “Are you going to kill me here?”
Was that how she’d die? Chained against the wall like one of the failed Blades? Only this time, Leith wouldn’t be able to save her.
His chuckle thrummed along the stones. “I want the whole kingdom to watch your execution. No, this is where I will kill Leith Torren when he comes to rescue you.”
She wasn’t supposed to know Leith was still alive. She forced herself to jump as if in surprise. “Leith’s alive?”
“Yes. It seems the Waste was not enough to kill him.” Respen trailed his fingers along the arms of the throne-like chair at the head of the table. “But he will not escape me for long. He will come to stop your execution, and when he does, I will catch him. He will beg for death before he dies.”
Renna shivered and glanced at the chains behind her. Would Leith’s blood stain this wall? Squeezing her eyes shut, she drew in several deep breaths. She couldn’t let Respen’s words, the darkness of this place, get to her head. She straightened her shoulders. “God is with me, and He is with Leith.”
Respen drummed his fingers on the tabletop. When he spoke, his voice was low and almost gentle. “You still surprise me. After all I have put you through, you still cling to your faith. Just like Clarisse. Even in the end, she died praying.”
“Then she is with Jesus.” Renna tiptoed to the table. She gripped the back of the nearest chair. “I look forward to meeting her there after my execution.”
Respen’s fingers stopped tapping. He glanced up at her, his eyes shadowed. “I suppose you believe I will not join her when I die.”
She hesitated. What was she supposed to tell him? Could she reach Respen’s heart? “At the moment, your actions indicate that you won’t. But even you aren’t beyond the hope of salvation. God can work in any heart, no matter how black and hard. He can change you.”
“Only if I admit I am weak and helpless, is that it?” Respen snorted.
“When God touches your heart, you’ll see your own weakness. You’ll see how helpless you are. And that will make you long for His strength.”
“I am the most powerful man in Acktar. I am far from weak.” Respen waved his arms at the dark room, as if to encompass the whole country.
Of all the emotions she thought she’d feel toward King Respen, pity wasn’t one of them. Yet that’s exactly what she’d call the squeezing, hurting pressure in her chest. Respen was proud. He was like the wicked kings in the Bible stories Brandi loved so much, so proud and hard-hearted that they wouldn’t—couldn’t—bow to God.
She faced him. “Only when you’re weak will God make you strong.”
In the months she’d spent at Nalgar Castle, she’d learned that lesson over and over again. She was weak. She wasn’t courageous like Leith or hopeful like Brandi. Still, God had given her the strength to survive when she’d needed it. She hadn’t denied her faith. She hadn’t given in to Respen’s smooth lies. And that defied all expectation, including her own.
Respen strolled toward her. The look in his dark eyes might’ve been tender as he reached a hand toward her, as if to touch her. “Renna. We could have been powerful together. We could have ruled Acktar side by side with everyone at our feet. You could have been my queen.”
For a moment, she was almost taken in by the ache in his eyes. If she’d married him, would she have eventually loved him? Was what she saw in his eyes love? Could he even love?
Perhaps he could, but not the way the Bible instructed a man to love his wife. He could never do that as long as he didn’t love God.
How had she become so blinded? She’d thought that if she tried to love Respen, she could eventually change him. But that was backwards. Hadn’t she learned that with Leith? She’d only been able to love him after God had already changed him.
Renna forced her chin up. “I’d rather be God’s servant than your queen.”
Respen’s eyes darkened, washing away whatever gentleness may or may not have been there. “Then you’ll die.”
If he thought those words would send her back to the cowering girl she’d been for the past four and a half years, then he was mistaken. That girl was long gone. God was on her side.
“So be it.” She spun on her heels and marched to the door. She flung it open, nearly running into Martyn as he stood guard on the landing. “Martyn, return me to my cell.”
32
Leith and Shad lay at the edge of a promontory, the maze of boulders at their backs. From their vantage point, the dusty brown expanse of prairie stretched away to the horizon, broken only by the black disease of Respen’s army gathered along a roll of the foothills. Beyond them, the shapes of Walden Manor and its defenses darkened one patch of prairie.
“Walden’s still standing.” Shad craned his neck and pushed onto his elbows to get a better view. “Can you spot any Blades?”
Leith pointed at a spiked section of stone thrusting through the carpet of pines, keeping his hand low. “See that wisp of smoke by those rocks? Someone has a campsite there. I’m guessing one of the lower Blades. The more experienced Blades would know better than to make a fire while on lookout.”
Shad squinted towards the rock. After several minutes, he shrugged. “I think I see something.”
“There’re several places the other Blades could be, but I haven’t seen any definite signs.” Leith inched back from the rim. “The foothills will be crawling with Blades no matter where we are. Respen will want to know the moment anyone from the Resistance sets a toe in Acktar.”
Shad crawled on his belly until he was out of sight of the land below. When he was clear, he stood and brushed his trousers off. “So what do we do now? Sneak past them?”
Leith slid to his feet and scrubbed at the dust covering his black clothes. “I’ll scout the area tonight. You’ll stay up here.” When Shad opened his mouth to protest, Leith held up his finger. “While your sneaking skills are excellent for a lord’s son, you aren’t good enough to scout out the positions of all the Blades down there and the army around Walden. I’m a Blade. This is what I do.”
When darkness closed around the Hills, Leith slipped from their campsite. Skittering down the cliff side, Leith dropped to the ground. He padded through the pines and cedars, moving the branches as little as possible. Circling a spine of rock, he peeked around the edge.
Ninth Blade Altin slept next to a small fire. His dusty brown horse dozed beyond him. Its head raised, and it looked at Leith. But it didn’t give a warning nicker. It must not see him as a threat.
Leith frowned. Altin had been sent to aid the army attacking the western towns. If Altin was here, it meant the western towns had fallen and that division of Respen’s army now reinforced the army around Walden.
Not good. When Prince Keevan arrived with the Resistance army, he’d have to face the full brunt of Respen’s army instead of facing it one division at a time as they’d hoped.
Fading into the darkness, Leith explored the rest of the foothills between the cliff and the prairie. He discovered Third Blade Crossley and Fourth Blade Tooley on either side of Altin’s position. Far enough apart that a small group might be able to slip through, but an army would be noticed.
Skirting the Blades, Leith hiked out of the foothills. At the bottom, he reached an open stretch of ground between him a
nd the army. He crouched and eased through the long grass, moving with a sliding, weaving motion. Near the rise, he spotted the first sentry yawning and stamping his feet. Leith sneaked past him easily.
The camp sprawled along the high ground. Leith slipped through the shadows, counting tents and the number of men trudging about. He spotted the horses and bedrolls of two more Blades near General Wentle’s command tent.
When he’d noted the size of this section of the army, he wandered toward Walden. Ranks of tents surrounded the dry moat and dirt fortification Leith had helped build weeks ago. Torches lit the top of the fortifications, preventing the Blades from sneaking too close.
Lord Alistair’s sentries peeked between wooden barricades, alert and wary. Even Leith didn’t stand a chance of getting past them. Still tempting to try, if only to reassure Lord Alistair that help was coming.
Leith crept past the army sentries and into the foothills. As dawn burst across the eastern horizon, he dropped from a rock into the camp he and Shad had set up.
At the scuffling of his feet, Shad startled awake and reached for his dagger. Leith held out his hands. “Easy. It’s just me.”
Shad yawned and sat up. “What did you find?”
Leith shrugged. “The Blades are stationed along the foothills. I spotted the campsites for three of them, but there might be another one or two in the Hills to the west. Two Blades are the camp below. But we have a bigger problem.”
“Bigger problem than the Blades?” Shad scrubbed at his eyes.
“I spotted a couple of the Blades that had been with the division attacking the western towns. That means the western towns have fallen, and Respen’s entire army is now positioned between us and Nalgar Castle.” Leith drew the positions in the dust.
Shad studied the crude dust map. “We can’t go around them?”
“This route through the Hills is the best one for a large army. Respen knows it, which is why he has his army positioned here. But even if we could go around them, our army has to face them before taking on Nalgar Castle to prevent being pinned between the castle and Respen’s army. It’s best to drive down from the Hills here to push them back toward Nalgar.”
Defy (The Blades of Acktar Book 3) Page 18
