The Diminished

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  “Don’t move a muscle.” Aphra’s voice was hard, and as she spoke, a gag was stuffed into my mouth. It tasted like it had been drenched in perfume. “I’m sorry to drag you into our domestic squabble, Your Highness, but I can’t let you take my husband off the property.”

  In no time, my wrists and ankles were bound up in a lead rope. I’d kept my joints stiff, hoping to be able to wriggle free like the hero in a novel I’d read long ago, but Aphra’s companion obviously had a great deal more practice tying knots than I had getting free of them.

  I looked up to see Aphra standing behind her husband, holding a knife to his throat. Her strange, halved face was hard to read, especially in the dim light of the moons, but I thought I saw a twinge of pain behind the triumph in her mismatched eyes.

  “Why?” Phineas’s commanding voice had crumpled into a child’s whine. “Why would you let them destroy our home?”

  I was surprised that Aphra hadn’t gagged him, as well.

  “I only wish that I’d managed to coordinate a thing like this. What you see, my dear, is luck, plain and simple. And really? Our home?” Wry humor colored Aphra’s words. “This is no more my home than one of the moon’s halves would be, and twice as lonely. I’ll be happy to be rid of your shackles, thrilled to know you can no longer leave a trail of pain and destruction in your wake. Rayleane’s eyes, man, you think I haven’t seen the scars left on Myrna’s back? You think I don’t remember that girl you whipped to death? Her name was Lily, Phineas. And you killed her. For sport.”

  “Where will you go? I sheltered you, Aphra. Without me, the Shriven will come for you. They’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”

  Aphra smiled. “As if they could. For having lived with me these six years, Phineas, you hardly know me at all.”

  Phineas gaped, as though trying to digest what she’d said. Aphra took a deep breath, knife glinting in her hand, and before I had time to react, drew the blade swiftly across his throat. A dark line appeared, his eyes went wide and blood gurgled, nearly black in the moonlight, down the collar of his jacket. His bound hands scrabbled at his throat, and I lurched back, only to knock into the figure behind me.

  Aphra looked on stoically as her husband collapsed in a puddle of his own blood. Silence, but for the uneasy shifting of the horses in their stalls, hung over the barn. I was sickened, horrified, and I saw no escape. I would surely die here.

  Explosions burst through the silence and shook a sprinkling of dust loose from the barn’s beams. The horses screamed and panicked in their stalls. Aphra and her companion—whom I now recognized as Vi’s friend, Myrna—started and dashed outside.

  I inched awkwardly toward a stack of hay bales against the barn’s wall. In every barn I’d ever visited, there had been a dull knife hanging by a bit of string on the wall, used to cut baling twine. Sure enough, a steel blade swung from a nail on the wall. I struggled to my feet and plucked it from its place, refusing to look at Phineas’s corpse.

  I sawed desperately at the ropes holding my wrists, working as quickly as I could. Once my hands were free, I pulled the gag from my mouth, spitting to rid myself of the foul taste of Aphra’s perfume. More explosions boomed through the sky, and this time, they were accompanied by screams from the direction of the great room. I had to get away, but the thought of Vi tugged at me. What if she was still in the house? And could I really leave Swinton behind?

  I crept to the barn door and looked outside.

  Fireworks blossomed dangerously close to the elegant manor house. People in soot-smeared clothing streamed from the windows and doors of the great room, and in the chaos, I couldn’t tell the guests apart from the Shriven. The acrid, oily smell of the fire filled the air, and a cacophony of breaking glass erupted from the great room. I watched in horror as the roof collapsed.

  The two figures took off running away from the house, and I fought the urge to do the same. The thought of Swinton, Mal, Quill and Vi froze me in place. Were they all inside? I sent a fervent prayer to Gadrian that none of them were still in the great room.

  Two choices lay before me. I could join in with the crowd, searching for them, or I could stick to the plan. I knew what Swinton—and likely Vi—would tell me to do.

  Stomach in knots, I turned my back on the chaos and retreated to the barn.

  I chose a horse in the farthest stall from the door, a nervous chestnut who looked ready to run. In mere minutes, I’d saddled the horse. I left it in its stall and sped back down the barn aisle.

  Horrible though Phineas had been, I couldn’t leave his corpse lying in the middle of the barn where it might be trampled or worse. I dragged the body into an empty stall, gasping at the weight of him, and threw a blanket over him. As I closed the door, I said a quick prayer and wiped my hands on a saddle pad hanging next to the stall.

  I flung open each of the stall doors, releasing the horses one by one. It would slow down Vi, Swinton and the Whippleston twins, but it would make it that much harder for Aphra or the Shriven to pursue me, as well. When all the horses had been freed, I led my chestnut out of the stall, mounted and galloped away from the burning house.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  VI

  Fireworks had always looked large in the sky, but when they burst on the ground, the great shower of sparks was enormous and destructive. We shot a round at the far end of the house, forcing the knot of Shriven blockading the doors to scatter. Soon, folks started streaming from the windows and doors of the great room. It was working. In no time at all, the entire great room would be empty.

  Relief flooded over me as the first groups of coughing guests tumbled onto the lawn. I watched for Bo and Quill, searching for their faces among the soot-smeared crowd, but I didn’t see them. Mal laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, like he could feel the anxious energy exploding inside me. If they weren’t in the great room, where were they?

  “Could they’ve gotten out?” I asked Mal.

  “They were on their way out when we left. We’ve got to assume they’re already gone,” Mal said.

  Unease writhed like eels in my belly, but I kept moving, setting the fireworks and hopping back to let Swinton and Mal light the fuses. Flashing, unnatural hues of firework sparks lit the stream of folks flooding across the lawn. The tide had slowed, but the danger wasn’t over yet. Even as the crying, silk-clad guests did their best to flee, the Shriven kept appearing, blades in their hands as they slinked from between the trees and jumped out of windows like beetles. I hoped Phineas was in among the crowd—a cringing, cowardly part of me was glad that my plans for revenge had been interrupted, that it might not have to be my hand that ended his life.

  I hated myself for that cowardice.

  The Shriven were everywhere. My reckoning was way off—they’d more than doubled since I’d counted them from the roof. They were coming from the house, from the trees, from all around us. We’d hidden ourselves behind a screen of bushes, but I knew it’d only be minutes before they found us.

  “I’ve got to go find Bo,” I whispered.

  Mal looked up at me, his face illuminated by the fuse he’d just lit. “You can’t. You’ve a hurt wing, and we don’t know how soon the whole house will go up. It looks fit to blow already. They’ll be fine.”

  He was right, in a way. The fire’d spread to the wing of the house closest to the great room. The flames danced behind windows filling fast with smoke. A windowpane on the first floor burst in a scream of shattering glass as I watched. The house’s stone walls were the only reason it could have possibly lasted this long. I scrubbed a hand through my hair, thinking.

  “I promised your brother I’d see you safe out of here,” Swinton said. “Bo can take care of himself.”

  So can I, I thought. But rather than wasting my breath arguing, I set the last firework and darted back to squat by Mal.

  “What now?”

  Mal snorted. “
I thought you were the one running the show here.”

  I cuffed him with my good fist. “This isn’t the time for jokes.”

  “I haven’t seen them,” Swinton said. “Have you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Come on then,” Swinton said. “Quill and Bo must’ve already made it out. Let’s find our horses and get gone. We’ll meet them in Williford. I told Bo to meet us at my mother’s.”

  His domineering attitude stirred up an overwhelming urge to argue in my gut, but I stuffed it down. Being obstinate wouldn’t do anyone any good. I led the way through the wooded edge of the garden, taking a roundabout route to the barn. So many of the Shriven had poured out of the woods to surround the folks on the lawn—I hoped we’d be safe if we kept out of the open.

  We’d nearly reached the barn’s long shadow when I tripped and fell. I landed hard on my knees, but my good wrist squished into something soft. Whatever I’d landed on let out a low moan. Strong hands, either Swinton’s or Mal’s, yanked me to my feet by the elbows, sending riots of pain shooting through my hurt shoulder. Spots of color crowded my eyes, and I did everything I could to keep the bile from rising in my throat again. The minute we got safe, I was going to give those boys a tongue-lashing they’d never forget.

  “Hamil’s ass. It’s one of them,” Mal said.

  “She’s covered in blood.”

  My vision cleared, and I saw Swinton crouching next to a crumpled pile of muddied gray silk, which, apparently, was one of the Shriven.

  “She’s alive?” I asked. I knew the answer. I’d heard her, felt her warmth under my hand. My shoulder throbbed, and I wanted to get the hell away from this place while we still could.

  Swinton turned her over, and I was startled to see that it was Curlin. Luckily, she was out cold.

  “Gods and goddesses all be damned,” I swore. I poked her leg with my toe. “Is that all her blood?”

  “Her arm’s been slashed fair bad, but if the bleeding stops, she’ll live.”

  “Will it stop on its own?” I asked. No one but the Shriven had been armed—I wondered who’d given her such a nasty cut.

  Swinton gave her a critical once-over. “Might. Might not. No great loss either way. She’s one of them. Stop wasting time. We need to go. Now.”

  Beneath the bloody, mud-spattered robes...under the tattoos, the painted face, the shaved head...the girl whose life was draining into the dirt knew me better than anyone else in the world. Better than my own twin. Despite the betrayal and the threats and the horrors she’d no doubt committed since joining the Shriven, I couldn’t let Curlin bleed to death in the woods by herself.

  I looked at Mal. “Can you carry her?”

  Swinton’s anger cut through his words like ice. “Let her die.”

  “I’ve known her my whole life. I can’t.”

  “There isn’t time to argue. Let’s get her bandaged and get the hell out of here,” Mal said. He bent and scooped her up in his arms. “Come on.”

  “Magritte’s tongue. I’m going to regret this,” I muttered, but led the way into the barn.

  * * *

  The stalls were nearly all empty; their doors stood open. I hurried into my old rooms, leaving Mal and Swinton to follow me. The main room was dark but for a single lamp on one of the side tables. Before my eyes had fully adjusted to the dimness, I saw movement in the bedroom.

  “Bo?” My voice trembled. If it was anyone else, I didn’t know what I’d do.

  Swinton and Mal froze behind me.

  “Vi?”

  The old plank floor shook, and a familiar figure came toward me. In a moment, I was wrapped up in Quill’s arms. One hand laced through my hair and freed my curls from their braid. The other wrapped around my waist, and his mouth found mine. A rush of hot, frantic relief washed over me, and I let myself sink into his embrace. He was safe. I was so gods’-damned grateful that he was safe.

  I pulled myself away, realizing what he’d done.

  “What the damn hell were you thinking, staying here?” I snapped. He reached out to me, but I put up a hand to stop him. “Dzallie’s toes! Why would you stay? The place is crawling with Shriven. And where’s Bo?”

  “I left him to come find you. He was nearly out of the great room.” Seeing my glare, Quill’s eyes went wide as he tried to explain. “With the fire and the Shriven... I needed to make sure you were safe, Vi. Surely you—”

  I cut him off. “I can take care of myself, thanks. I don’t know if I can say the same for that pampered and privileged ninny.”

  “Enough. The both of you, honestly. Are we taking this one with us or not?” Mal snapped. It was the first time I’d ever heard anything close to ire come out of his mouth. “Because if we are, we need to get her wrapped up.”

  I nodded, and Mal carried Curlin inside. She whimpered, still mostly unconscious, when he set her on the sofa.

  Irritation curled through my body like smoke. I didn’t quite know why I felt the need to be so protective of Bo. Despite the fact that he was my twin, I didn’t even know him. All the years I’d spent talking to Pru flashed before me, and I suddenly realized that the connection I’d felt—the thing that had steadied me all these years—was Bo. Neither of us had known it, but we’d had each other all along.

  “So my brother is still trapped in the great room? With the Shriven?” I demanded.

  “He’d gotten to the window, Vi,” Quill said, trying to reassure me. “He was fine. I’m sure he’s already halfway down the road.”

  “How do you bloody know? Did you not see what’s happening out there?” I couldn’t keep the fear out of my voice. I didn’t even try. “What if he’s lying on the ground somewhere, bleeding to death like she was?”

  I jerked my head at Curlin.

  “He’s got a better head on his shoulders than you’re giving him credit for, bully,” Swinton said softly.

  “I’m going to look for him,” I said, the weight of it settling on me like a curse. I didn’t want to wade back into that bloodbath, but I wanted Bo. I wanted to see him. To feel him nearby.

  That thought hit me like the shock of an eel. I couldn’t feel him anymore. He’d been there earlier in the evening, but now he was gone. Suddenly, I was on the verge of panic, but with the estate full of Shriven, I didn’t have much of a choice. Somehow, I had to trust that he’d made it out. That he was still alive, and safe.

  Swinton and Quill exchanged a look, and Swinton reached for my hand. “He’ll meet us at my mother’s place. We need to stick to the plan, Vi.”

  “Fine. See if you can’t find us some horses,” I said with a sigh, knowing they were right.

  Swinton, his jaw tight, left the room with Mal.

  A huge part of me wanted to leave Curlin to fend for herself. The malicious ninny’d caused me more grief than one person should bear in a lifetime. But the old loyalty I felt to her was stronger than my resentment, and we didn’t have much time. I heaved a sigh.

  Curlin woke with a scream when I poured tafia onto the slash on her arm. Quill clapped a quick hand over her mouth as I glared at her.

  It’d occurred to me that Curlin might be the key I needed to get out of the mess I was in with the Shriven. She’d kept our relationship a secret in the basement of the temple—she’d even warned me. Though of what, I’d no idea. It didn’t feel like a coincidence that she’d turned up at Plumleen tonight, though. Certainly didn’t feel like a coincidence that she—one of the Shriven—had turned up with a slash on her arm when the only folks who’d been armed were the Shriven themselves.

  I wasn’t going to let her out of my sight until I found out the truth. The whole truth.

  “You’d best keep quiet if you want to get out of here in one piece,” I told her. “It won’t hurt me a bit to leave you here praying Rayleane’ll care enough to save your sorry hide. Are you going to shut your trap, or d
o I need to knock you out?” I asked.

  Curlin studied me through slitted eyes. She’d seen the calculations whirring through my brain. Truth was, she didn’t have much of a choice.

  She nodded her head.

  I handed Quill a strip of the bandage I’d been using to wrap up her arm. “Gag her. We shouldn’t take any chances.”

  * * *

  Dawn flooded the lavender sky with streaks of red and orange and pink as we rode into town. I held one of the pups, curled and asleep in my lap. The others were snoring in our saddlebags, and the mama dog walked beside my horse. I’d insisted on bringing the dogs, not able to stand the idea of leaving them behind to fend for themselves in whatever was left of the estate. Despite the danger, despite the exhaustion that seemed to drag at my core, despite my aching shoulder and my worry over my brother, I was strangely calm. I was free of Plumleen Hall, free of my contract, and I had Curlin—she could fill in the rest of the picture.

  She would. I would make her.

  The others in our party were quiet as we entered Williford, following Swinton. When he drew rein in front of a squat stone inn, he and Quill tumbled off their horses, relief clear as day in their bloodshot eyes. They took the pups from their saddlebags, and I couldn’t help but smile as they tumbled around their mama, yipping and wagging their little bodies.

  Quill helped Curlin down from her perch in front of Mal’s saddle, and she stood straight-backed as ever, cradling her bandaged arm. Despite the bloodstained, mud-spattered remains of her robes, and the black paint trailing down her face, she still managed to cut quite an intimidating figure. If I hadn’t known her my whole damn life, I would’ve been as wide-eyed as the stable hands gaping at us from across the yard. A gesture from Swinton brought one of the girls sprinting over, and Quill handed her his reins. Not to be left out, the other girls darted across the yard and gathered the rest of our mounts. Quill took firm hold of Curlin’s uninjured arm.

  “Just this way,” Swinton said, leading us through the cobblestone courtyard, around to the back of the inn and its sprawling kitchen garden. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and opened the thick wooden door. I closed my eyes, willing Bo to appear when I opened them again. I thought I could almost feel his presence in my mind, but I couldn’t be sure that my wanting wasn’t the only real thing I felt.