by Sarra Cannon
She tightened her grip on the sword and peered through the crack in the door. All she had left to cross was the small chamber that stood between the throne room and the hall to Titus’s private quarters. She nudged the door open and tip-toed inside.
“Going somewhere, Lady Azurha?”
She whirled around at the sound of Varro’s voice and watched the door slam shut behind her. The click of the locks followed. She bit back a groan when she spied the brass plate next the door. Its presence mocked her as much as the iron bars of her cell.
Varro circled her, lighting candles as he moved through the room. His steps showed no sign of the limp that had plagued him for as long as she had known him. Instead,a scabbard hung from his belt, its tip grazing the old scar that twisted around his knee. The adornments announced its bearer to be the captain of the Legion, and a shard of apprehension pierced her soul.
She lifted her head. The truth was on her side, for once, and she had nothing to lose from sharing her secrets now. “Titus is in danger.”
His eyes flicked to the bloodied weapon in her hands. “Yes, I can see that.”
When he reached to draw his sword, she took a step back. “It’s not me.”
“Circumstances would suggest otherwise.” The steel blade slid from its sheath with a sickening hiss. “Care to explain to me why you’re sneaking through the palace with gladius in your hand?”
“Please, Varro, I’m not the enemy here.” Her voice shook when she spoke. Why would the gods allow her to get this close only to have her fail? Every time she thought she was one step ahead, they cruelly mocked her.
He pulled his arm up and back, his blade aimed straight for her heart as he closed the distance between them. “I told you once I pledged my life to protect the emperor. Do you really think I’d let you pass without using my last breath to stop you?”
She knew his movements well enough to know what was coming. It would be simple to dodge his blow and follow it with a slice through his gut that would litter the floor with entrails.
But too much blood had been spilt today. Fighting him would only spread the poison faster through her body and hasten her death. She let her sword’s tip fall to the ground. “If you truly think I’m a threat to Titus, then kill me now.”
Varro balked at her reaction and lowered his blade. “Is this some kind of ruse?”
The weight of her sword seemed to multiple with each second, and she released it. It fell between them, forming an invisible barrier neither one of them crossed. A trembling formed deep inside her. It worked its way up and out through her limbs, sapping her strength as the standoff continued. Time was running out. If she didn’t share her secret soon, it would die with her. “Pontus hired me to kill Titus.”
Varro’s jaw dropped at her confession, but he quickly regained his composure and took aim at her again. “And I take it you are on your way to complete your task.”
She shook her head, fighting back the weakness that threatened to make her knees buckle. “I want him to know who the true enemy is.”
New lines appeared in Varro’s already wrinkled brow, and Azurha’s heart skipped a beat. He was either weighing the truth in her words or figuring out the best way to kill her. It didn’t matter now. She’d said all she needed to say, and she wouldn’t fight him.
The doors to the throne room banged open, and a chorus of pounding footsteps echoed off the marble walls. Varro turned his attention in that direction, and Azurha managed to get three steps closer to the hallway before he ordered her to halt.
Galerius burst into the side room. Scorch marks adorned his normally spotless tunic, and a bruise bloomed along his jaw. He spotted Azurha and pointed to her. “There’s the assassin,” he said to his men. “Seize her.”
Instead of letting the two members of the Legion grab her, Varro stepped in between them with his sword still drawn. “Wait.”
Varro may have been the palace steward now, but the command with which he issued that one word still carried the force of a captain of the Legion. The men obeyed, and Galerius didn’t contradict him.
“Where is Governor Pontus?” Varro asked.
“That’s who we were searching for.” Galerius replied. “We were taking him down to the prison when he attacked us. I’ve never seen a Deizian use magic without a conduit before.”
Azurha’s heart rose into her throat. “He got away?”
A muscle rippled along the captain’s jaw. “Care to tell us where to find him?”
Raw energy flowed though her limbs, negating the effects of the poison. Cassius said he hadn’t been hired to kill Titus. If Pontus had decided to take matters into his own hands…
“Titus,” she whispered before she snatched up her sword and ran down the hallway.
She didn’t need to turn around to know that Varro, Galerius, and the other two members of the Legion were right on her heels. Moonlight flashed through the open windows as she passed them before plunging her back into the darkened shadows in between. When she got to the doors that led to Titus’s private chambers, she pulled to a stopped and yanked on the doors. They rattled in protest, but didn’t budge. Locked, as usual.
“Allow me, Lady Azurha.” Varro pressed his palm against the brass plate like she’d seen him do dozens of times before, but the familiar click never came. A puzzled frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. He pulled his hand back and tried it again.
No click.
“Let me try.” Galerius switched places with Varro, but the results were still the same.
“Why would the emperor change the locks?” Varro asked.
A crash followed by a grunt came from the other side of the locked doors. Azurha’s breath caught. Pontus had already proven he could wield Deizian magic in unusual ways. “Because he didn’t.”
Galerius locked gazes with her. His eyes widened as if he was reading her thoughts, and he nodded. “We need to get in there now.”
The two other members of the Legion came to his side, ready to follow their captain’s lead. The three of them rammed into the door in precise formation.
The doors creaked.
“Again,” Galerius shouted.
Azurha stood back and watched their efforts to break down the door. Another crash came from inside the chambers, sending a tremble down her spine and throughout her body. She had never felt so helpless, not even when she had been a slave bound between the pillars. She had nothing left to lose then, but now…
A ball of warmth formed deep inside her chest. It amplified her pounding heart, coursing through her veins like molten lava and gathered in her raw and bloody hand. Her fingers shook under the force of it.
She tried to restrain the heat, but it continued to wear away at her like storm waves along a seaside cliff. Strong. Powerful. Wild. Chaotic. Destructive. Whatever it was, it wanted out.
And she was too weak to contain it.
“Move,” she shouted before she unleashed it at the door.
Chapter 28
Titus climbed out the tepidarium and reached for the towel Varro had left for him. He’d sent the steward away almost an hour ago, preferring absolute solitude while he wrestled with his doubts. He’d hoped to find some sort of resolution to his problem while soaking in the warm water. Instead, he was left feeling more confused than ever.
Everything pointed to Azurha. He’d been a fool not to put all the pieces together sooner. She was the Rabbit. The Rabbit had been hired to kill him. And she’d been caught with a dagger in her hand, attackinga member of the Legion in front of dozens of witnesses.
But that’s where things stopped making sense. From what he knew about her kills, they were usually done in secret, quiet and discreet under the cover of night. Her victims were usually found when the morning dawned, a rabbit’s foot tied to their body. If she’d been hired to kill him, she would have done it here in his chambers when she shared his bed, not in the middle of a crowded coliseum.
Doubt clawed away at his stomach like some kind of wild be
ast. Am I accusing the wrong person?
But that still didn’t explain what had happened this afternoon. He reached for his tunic and jerked it on. There was one person he needed to question before he faced her—the soldier.
The locks clicked, and Titus headed for the main room, expecting to find Varro. When he entered the room, however, no one was there. “Varro,” he called out.
No answer.
“Galerius?”
Still no answer.
His breath hitched, and a chill rippled down his spine. Whoever had entered his room was still there.
Titus forced a calm expression on his face while he scanned the room. Nothing appeared out of order. The evening breeze danced though the silk curtains that concealed his bedroom, but that was the only movement he detected. His pulse throbbed in his ears, making it harder to pick up any miniscule sounds.
Maybe I’m just hearing things.
The feeling of unease that wound through his gut refused to let go. He licked his lips and reached for his sword. He ventured toward the bedroom, taking care to make his footsteps as silent as possible.
A gust of wind ripped through the room. Gooseflesh puckered his skin, even though the air was warm. The wild magic he’d felt since meeting Azurha stirred to life within him. It massaged the tension from his shoulders, replacing the fear with confidence. He had restored the barrier on the other side of the empire. Whoever had snuck into his chambers was no match for what he could conjure up.
He entered his bedroom and yanked back the curtain. The white linens of his freshly made bed glowed under the moonlight. An intense melancholy filled his lungs when he drew in a breath. He’d sleep alone tonight. That is, if he could find sleep.
The doors rattled behind him, snapping him to attention. He spun around to see who was trying to break into his chambers. His grip tightened around the sword. The wild magic churned inside his chest, growing stronger with every beat of his heart. Muffled voices came from the other side of the thick oak doors. Flashbacks of the attack on his airship filled his mind. His muscles tensed, ready to fight off whatever assailants would pour through the opening once it was breached.
And then he caught a shadow move out the corner of his eye. Titus turned just in time to see a figure fly toward him from a recess. He held up the sword like a shield and braced for the impact. The golden blade of a dagger flashed in the candlelight. He knew that blade. Even though he couldn’t see the embossed rabbit on the hilt, he recognized it. But the person holding it was not who he expected.
Pontus landed on top of him, a snarl twisting his features. The impact forced the air from Titus’s lungs, but he ignored the burning in his chest as he fought off his cousin. The dagger clanged against the hard steel as Titus blocked it, never piercing his skin.
Titus gathered his strength and shoved Pontus off him. Once the weight left his body, he scrambled to his feet and lowered his shoulders.
Pontus mirrored his posture. “You were supposed have been dead by now.”
“So sorry to disappoint you, coz.”
Pontus slashed the air with the dagger. “I should have gone with my gut. That will teach me never to trust a woman to do a man’s job.”
Titus pivoted to the side to avoid Pontus as he lunged toward him. Some of the heaviness lifted from his heart when he comprehended what his cousin had just said, and his feet felt quicker than before. “You hired Azurha to kill me?”
Before he could get an answer, something smashed against the door. Pontus jumped at the distraction and leapt toward Titus again. His blade missed, but his hand snatched Titus’s tunic. They both tumbled into the main room, the sword falling from his grasp in the process. But Titus remained focused on Pontus and the dagger bearing down on him.
Time slowed. His heart seemed to beat to the tempo of an executioner’s drum. His hands moved through the air as if they were mired in sticky tar rather than nothingness.
But when he clasped his cousin’s hands and stopped the blade a mere inch from his heart, reality came crashing back around him.
Sweat beaded along Titus’s forehead while he wrestled with Pontus. A few feet away, the door began to splinter under the rhythmic pounding from outside.
“You’re weak, Titus.” Perspiration dripped down Pontus’s face, and his voice shook in synch with his hands. “Your death will be a blessing on the empire.”
“And you think you would be better than me?” Anger rolled though him, and the blade began to back away.
“Yes,” Pontus hissed.
The door gave way enough for him to recognize the sound of Galerius barking orders to his men. The traces of Azurha’s wild magic filtered through the cracks, wrapping around him and soaking into his muscles. “You’ll be dead before you leave this room.”
Pontus gave a quick, sharp laugh. “By the time they break through my spell, your body will be cold.”
Needles of unease prickled along his spine. How had his cousin overpowered his own magic? “So you’re the one behind all this. Azurha. The barrier. Maybe even my father’s death.”
Pontus grinned. “No, I’m not responsible for all that, but I’m not alone.”
The wild magic grew stronger, pulsating through every inch of Titus’s body. A primal roar broke free from his mouth. The magic exploded from his body, hurling Pontus off his chest.
At the same time, the doors exploded off their hinges and showered the room with splinters. Titus whipped his head to the side to shield his face from the debris. A second later, he turned back to see Pontus running toward him with the dagger drawn. The sinister gleam in his cousin’s eyes spoke of madness.
Titus drew a breath and braced for impact.
Pontus jerked to a stop inches away from him. His mouth hung open like trap door, and the dagger fell from his hand with a clang. His head rolled down to stare at the bloody blade protruding from his chest. A high pitched squeak escaped from his lips before he staggered forward and collapsed.
And behind him, with her hands still holding the hilt of the sword, stood Azurha.
Her face remained cold as she pulled the sword from Pontus. Her eyes reminded Titus of a lygress hunting on the plains, fierce and determined. This was the assassin he’d heard so much about, the one who could make grown men plead for their lives when they heard she’d been hired to kill them, but he didn’t fear her anymore. She plunged the blade into his cousin once again, as if she wanted to make sure he was dead, before she released the weapon and backed away.
The second her eyes met his, the huntress faded, leaving the vulnerable woman he’d come to love in her place. “Did he hurt you?” When he shook his head, she whispered, “Good.I wasn’t too late.”
Her eyes glazed over, and a needle of alarm pierced his heart. Something was wrong. Blood caked her face and stained her stola, but he had no idea how much of it was hers. The flesh along her left arm was raw and caked with blood. Her normally sun-bronzed skin had turned ashen, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes and making her cheeks appear sunken. Her knees bowed out under her, and she slumped to the ground.
Titus dove to catch her. Warm, sticky liquid oozed over his hand when he touched her side and stained it crimson. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?”
He pressed his palm against the wound, already drawing upon his magic to heal it, but she clamped her hand around his wrist and shook her head.
“Don’t,” she rasped. “Poison. Magic won’t help.”
A stone plummeted into the pit of his stomach as he heard her words. Her body trembled in his arms. Her breaths grew ragged. All evidence of the poison that was slowly consuming her. She was dying in his arms.
And all he could do was watch.
When he watched the life ebb out of his father less than a month ago, he felt only a hint of the frustration that ate away at him now. He was the emperor, damn it. He could raise a barrier to protect his people. He could order men to the executioner or pardon them at the last second. And yet, he couldn’t
save the one person he loved more than his own life. Every beat of his heart reminded him how useless he was, mocking him over and over again, building into a crescendo like the primal scream that welled up in his soul.
When it mattered most, he was doomed to fail.
Her grip loosened, and he caught a hint of a smile playing on her full lips. “I couldn’t kill you, Titus, not after I fell in love with you.”
Her confession forced the air from his lungs. It wasn’t all a lie. She loved him, too. The wild magic swirled inside his aching chest, soothing the burning grief that threatened to consume him. A glimmer of hope appeared to drive away the darkness. “Don’t give up on me now,” he whispered into her ear.
Her eyes rolled back. Death was coming to claim her, hastening the sense of urgency that surged through his veins on the tails of the wild magic. He closed his eyes and directed it toward her slashed skin. As long as her heart still beat, he would pour every ounce of his power into healing her.
A black cloud filled his mind. It wrestled with the bright blue magic, threatening to choke it. His breath caught. He tightened his jaw and doubled his efforts. Something fluttered on the other side of the misty veil. Azurha’s pulse. It was weak and fragile, but it was still there.
He shaped the wild magic into a clawed hand and punched through the black cloud. On the other side shimmereda golden light that grew less and less brilliant with each second. He cradled it in his hand of magic, feeding it. Nurturing it. Restoring it until it shone as brightly as the yellow sun that illuminated the day.
The black cloud hung on the fringes, ready to pounce. He may have been able to spare her life for now, but as soon as he retreated, the poison would attack again.
Titus split the wild magic, forming a second hand. While the other still shielded her fragile life essence, this new hand assaulted the black cloud with the fury of a pack of lygers. It circled the cloud, batting it, forcing it into a small corner of the void until it shrank into a compact ball. Sweat beaded along his forehead from the effort, but the feeling of Azurha’s slow, warm breath on his cheek gave him the strength he needed. He used wild magic to scoop up the blackness and yanked it toward the outside world.