Lord Hamel’s voice cut through the crowd. “What is this, Gerred?” The nobleman jerked his head, and two brawny men that James recognized as Hamel’s bodyguards advanced on the guildleader.
Gerred backed up, pulling Thalia with him. “Your dancing lass has been helping some of my men undermine the Guild.”
James felt a brief wave of relief that Gerred didn’t know about Thalia’s own plans.
“I’ve no interest in your petty politics,” snapped Hamel. “Don’t harm her.”
Gerred gave Hamel a disbelieving look. “Are you really that attached to her, Steffen? There’s plenty of others. I’ll give you the next month’s jobs for free.”
Hamel turned an eye on Gerred, intrigued. “It’s that important to you?” he asked. Thalia stood completely still, rigid beneath the assassin’s blade.
“Two months. Just don’t interfere,” growled Gerred, pulling Thalia more tightly to him.
“Fine,” said Hamel. He stepped back, dusting off his hands. Thalia’s only reaction was a tightening in her jaw.
Gerred nodded. “I owe you.” The guildleader turned his attention back to James, Rand, and Bacchus.
The three of them moved closer together. As Bacchus pulled their table in front of them to make a partial barricade, James took a quick inventory. Ten men, all loyal to Gerred. There was no way they could fight their way out unscathed. Though the idea of negotiating with Gerred turned his stomach, they had to consider it.
“What do you want from us?” he asked Gerred.
“I want you out of the way.” He was smug, now that he had the upper hand.
James gritted his teeth. “That’s what you would have gotten, Gerred. I told you, we’re leaving.”
Gerred’s expression hardened. “No more lies, James. I’ve had enough trouble from you.” The circle around them tightened.
“Think, Gerred. Do you really want it to come to this?” James said quickly. “You know we won’t die easily. This could be a costly fight for you, and a pointless one, if we’re telling the truth.”
“And I suppose you want me to take you at your word.”
“Let the lass go,” said James. “The four of us will leave the city tonight. No lives lost. You can march us out the gate if you want.” Next to him, Bacchus gave James an incredulous look, but James ignored him.
Gerred narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t give the order to attack. James waited, desperately hoping that Gerred’s pride wouldn’t override his usual caution.
Finally, Gerred spat on the ground. “You leave now. If we see you back in Forge, we kill you on sight.”
“Rand? Bacchus?” James said without taking his eyes off Gerred’s men.
There was a long silence. “Fine,” growled Rand. Next to him, Bacchus made a sound that James decided to take as assent. He looked to Thalia. There was a blazing look in her eyes that he couldn’t interpret.
Gerred nodded to his men, and the circle widened a half step. James stepped slowly forward, his blade in his hand, every muscle tense. “Release the lass too.”
Slowly, Gerred loosened his grip. Thalia took one step forward, then another. Her eyes locked on James, and they were filled with regret.
“Thalia—” he said.
Before he finished saying her name, the girl spun on her heel and ran for Lord Hamel. The first bodyguard to block her way fell back, clutching at his face as a knife flashed in Thalia’s hand. She was turning again to Hamel when the second bodyguard grabbed her hair, pulled her backwards, and thrust a knife between her shoulder blades. Thalia gasped and sank to the floor, her eyes fixed on Hamel’s face. The nobleman stared back and wiped off his arm where her blood had splattered.
Bacchus acted first, grabbing the lamp off the table and throwing its contents at one group of assassins as he kicked the table toward the others. The oil caught fire as it fell and spread across the floor. As assassins batted out flames and Gerred yelled orders, James sprang around the fire toward Hamel. The nobleman’s bodyguards closed protectively around him, but James dropped to a crouch in front of Thalia. She was pale and gasping, with blood spurting through her knife wound.
“Come on, James,” Rand yelled, dragging him to his feet. Rand reached to pick up Thalia, but James pushed him aside and scooped her up himself. Bacchus waved them out the door and guarded their retreat, knife raised in a menacing crouch as he backed out last.
No one pursued them. There were shouts of Red Shields, so perhaps Gerred’s crew had scattered rather than risk capture. When it was clear they weren’t being followed, James laid Thalia on the ground. The bleeding had slowed. She was in shock, though when she looked at James, her eyes took a momentary focus. Her lips moved, and James leaned closer to hear.
“Kill him for me,” she said.
And then she was too weak to say anything else.
Chapter Seven
ALVIE waited in the shadow of his wagon train, arms folded across his chest. Today was one of those days when he felt the weight of his years. His back ached from setting up camp, and everything felt heavy.
He hadn’t been surprised by the news when it came through the rumor mills. Everyone who’d known Thalia had been preparing to hear it for a while. The girl had been headstrong and fiercely loyal to her sister. These were characteristics one couldn’t afford to indulge when dealing with people like Hamel.
There was a rustle in the trees, and the young assassin came around a wagon. He was vigilant as he came into the circle, his eyes sweeping in all directions. Alvie imagined that James looked more tired than when they’d last met. His eyes were colder.
The assassin didn’t waste time on niceties. “You’ve heard by now?” he asked.
“Enough,” said Alvie. “I’ll relay the news to her home caravan. Let them claim their right to avenge her, if they so choose.”
“They didn’t avenge her sister,” James said. There might have been a hint of disdain in his voice.
“True,” Alvie conceded. “But don’t blame them for Thalia’s death. They loved the girls like their own daughters, and their decision not to go up against one of Forge’s top noblemen does not diminish that.”
“Whether they loved her or not is of no consequence to me. But they need not worry about vengeance. I’ll take responsibility for it,” James said.
Alvie believed him, the way he spoke. “You’ll strike against Hamel?” said Alvie. “There will be consequences, if I understand how your city functions.”
“I know the risks.”
It was on Alvie’s tongue to ask why only now, after the girl’s death, was James finally willing to go against the nobleman. But one look at the assassin’s face convinced him to keep the question to himself. “Why did you help her?” Alvie asked instead. “If you knew she’d likely fail?” He was careful not to inject any anger into his voice. The time for anger was past, and Alvie simply wanted to know.
James looked warily at Alvie, but seemed to sense that the trader meant no harm. “Risk is everywhere. Only the nobles have the luxury of a long easy life. Justice, vengeance, the ability to carve out your own fate instead of being herded like an animal. Sometimes it’s worth dying for.”
“I take it that you were close to Thalia, then?” Alvie asked.
“It doesn’t matter now.” That was probably as close a man like him would ever come to admitting love.
One of the horses neighed and they both looked to the sound, but there was no one else nearby. When the assassin turned back to their conversation, his tone was matter-of-fact.
“I’m afraid the city is too unstable now for our old plan,” said James. “If you can wait…”
Alvie waved away James’s concerns. “I’ve waited years. A few months won’t hurt.”
“I appreciate it. Though I do want some goods from you today.”
“Certainly.” Alvie turned to his wagons. “What’ll it be?”
“Lizard skin venom. Three vials.” Perhaps Alvie’s surprise showed, because James continued, �
�I understand you were bringing some for her.”
Alvie swung back toward the assassin, regarding him now with interest. “I do have a few vials, but it’s expensive.”
James palmed something from his belt pouch. “I trust this will be enough.”
There was just the slightest hesitation, a possessive last clench of the assassin’s fist before he opened his hand to reveal an exquisite gold chain. The craftsmanship was undeniable in the delicacy of the leaf-shaped links. James looked away as Alvie inspected it.
“This will be more than enough,” Alvie said. “And I can supply you with more, should you run out. Do you have much need for venoms?”
And suddenly there was a glint in James’s eye. “I do.”
Epilogue
IT happened quickly. The magistrates barely investigated the deaths because they involved the city’s lowlifes, violent criminals whose deaths were not widely mourned. But there were many. One night, eleven bodies were left by the river. Their faces were purple, their extremities gray. Poison.
When Lord Hamel heard the news, he flew into a rage. But then Hamel disappeared too. His bodyguards were discovered a few days later, throats cleanly slit. Hamel’s body, when it finally turned up, showed signs of a more lingering death, as drawn out as his bodyguards’ had been quick. A silver hairpin was carefully wedged under each of the nobleman’s fingernails.
Though Hamel was the only wallhugger to be harmed, other nobles also seemed out of sorts. More astute servants noted that these noblemen’s enemies were no longer terrorized by thugs. Whoever had been doing their dirty work was no longer in their employ.
After a few weeks, the violence died down, and the city returned to normal. Better than normal, in fact. Crime in the city plummeted. Red Shields were no longer called on as often to enforce the law. And as the Palace officials each tried to take the credit for this turn of fortune, they were unaware of the rumors circling in the taverns that a new leader had taken over the Assassins Guild, who had defeated his rivals so soundly that none remained. Those whispers circulated in the city, unnoticed by the Palace, for a very long time.
Note from Livia
THANK you for taking the time to read Poison Dance! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, I hope you will:
1. Write an online review. They really help get the word out about the book!
2. Check out Midnight Thief. James was originally conceived as a key character in my young adult novel Midnight Thief. You can read the first chapter on the next page.
3. Join my mailing list. I keep a low volume mailing list to let people know about new releases and special sales. You can sign up at http://liviablackburne.com.
For more Poison Dance related tidbits, I’ve posted some deleted scenes (including James getting his revenge on Hamel and Gerred) and behind-the-scenes blog posts at http://liviablackburne.com. Or, if you’re reading the paperback version, just go to the end of the book.
Midnight Thief Excerpt
GROWING up on Forge’s streets has taught Kyra how to stretch a coin. And when that’s not enough, her uncanny ability to scale walls and bypass guards helps her take what she needs.
But when the leader of the Assassins Guild offers Kyra a lucrative job, she hesitates. She knows how to get by on her own, and she’s not sure she wants to play by his rules. But he’s persistent—and darkly attractive—and Kyra can’t quite resist his pull.
Tristam of Brancel is a young Palace knight on a mission. After his best friend is brutally murdered by Demon Riders, a clan of vicious warriors who ride bloodthirsty wildcats, Tristam vows to take them down. But as his investigation deepens, he finds his efforts thwarted by a talented thief, one who sneaks past Palace defenses with uncanny ease.
When a fateful raid throws Kyra and Tristam together, the two enemies realize that their best chance at survival—and vengeance—might be to join forces. And as their loyalties are tested to the breaking point, they learn a startling secret about Kyra’s past that threatens to reshape both their lives.
In her arresting debut novel, Livia Blackburne creates a captivating world where intrigue prowls around every corner—and danger is a way of life.
*
Chapter 1
This job could kill her.
Kyra peered off the ledge, squinting at the cobblestone four stories below. A false step in the darkness would be deadly, and even if she survived the fall, Red Shields would finish her off. She stared a few moments more before forcing her gaze back up. The time for second thoughts was past. Now she just needed to keep moving.
The jump ahead was two body lengths long, so Kyra backed away from the ledge. Ten steps, then she drew a breath and sprinted forward. She pushed off just before the drop, clearing a gap of three strides before softening her body for the landing. There was a slap of soft leather on stone as she hit the next ledge. The impact sent a wave of vibrations through the balls of her feet, and Kyra touched a hand to the wall for balance.
Too hard, and too loud.
Silently cursing her clumsiness, Kyra scanned the grounds, looking for anyone who might have heard her. If she squinted, she could make out faint outlines of buildings around her—some as high as her ledge, some even taller. The pathways below were lined with torches that flickered, casting shadows that played tricks with her vision. Since she couldn’t trust her eyes, she listened. Other than the wind blowing across her ears, the night was silent, and Kyra relaxed. Tucking away a stray lock of hair, she set off, dashing deeper into the compound.
Two days ago, a man had come to the Drunken Dog, introducing himself as James and asking for Kyra by name. He’d moved with a deliberate confidence, and his gaze had swept over the room, evaluating and dismissing each of its occupants. When Kyra had finally approached him, James laid out an unusual offer. There was a ruby in the Palace compound. He wanted her to fetch it for him, and he was willing to pay.
“The Palace is guarded tight,” Kyra had told him. “If you want jewels, you’ll better get them elsewhere.”
“This ruby’s got sentimental value,” he’d replied. Kyra didn’t consider herself the most astute judge of character. But she also wasn’t an idiot, and she’d swallow her grappling hook before she’d believe that this man would do anything for sentimental reasons. The pay he offered was good, though, and the job an intriguing challenge. The Palace was a far cry from the rich man’s houses Kyra usually raided, with their handful of sentries guarding two or three floors. The Palace’s massive buildings were patrolled by so many guards, it was impossible to walk the grounds undetected. Rumor had it that even the rooftops were closely watched.
Which was why Kyra was neither on the ground nor on the rooftops. Instead, she balanced on a ledge outside a fourth-floor window, darting from shadow to shadow. The moon had not yet risen, and darkness concealed her from the Red Shields below. Unfortunately, it also hid the ledges from her own sight; the boundary between stone and air was easy to miss. From time to time, she slid a foot out to check her position, tracing her toe along the edge to fix the border in her mind.
Yes, she could die tonight. But as Kyra crept through the darkness, her doubts faded against the excitement of a challenging job. Those who knew her understood her skills. They knew she had no fear of heights and never lost her balance. But not even Flick, the closest thing to an older brother she had, understood the sheer joy that came over her every time she raced through the night. There was something about the way the darkness forced her to rely on her other senses, the way her body rose to the challenge. Her limbs silently promised her she would not fall, and by now she knew she could trust them.
The buildings across the path gave way to a courtyard with three trees, and Kyra slowed her pace, counting windows as she passed. The seventh from the southwest corner, James had said. These outer palaces were guest rooms for country noblemen visiting the Council. They were built securely but emphasized comfort more heavily than the fortresslike inner compound. And thus, they had glass windows instead of shutt
ers, making it easy to see that the bedroom inside was dark. A minute fiddling with the latch, and the pane swung open on greased hinges. There was a shape on the bed, snoring in the loud and punctuated way of men who had indulged too much in rich food and drink. Kyra wondered for a moment what it would be like to get fat, to eat so much, and work so little. No matter. Tonight, the nobleman would share some of his bounty.
She started with a dresser next to the bed, coaxing open the top drawer. Silk caught the dry skin of her fingertips. Apparently, the nobleman had a penchant for embroidered silk handkerchiefs. Not the jewelry box she sought, but Kyra took one and slipped it into her belt pouch. After checking the rest of the dresser, she moved to the desk. The latch gave easily to her pick, but there was nothing inside but documents and seals.
The sleeping nobleman shifted, and Kyra dropped to the floor. He rolled over, snorting loudly before his breathing once again settled. Kyra counted ten breaths, then went to the chest, taking care with the hefty cover. The top layer was fabric. Soon, she was up to her elbows in velvet night-robes, but still no ruby. If there were a jewelry box, it almost certainly would have been in the dresser or the chest. James had assured her that the nobleman wasn’t the type to hide his jewelry. Could he have been mistaken?
She combed the room again, feeling along the floors and walls for trapdoors, even running her hands over the bed’s thin mattress. Still nothing. Kyra bit her lip. The moon was rising, a thin crescent above the horizon that announced the coming dawn. She’d already stayed too long. Taking one last glance around the room, she crept back out the window.
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