But it never reached me. Another blade stopped it, a longer, heavier blade than any of the rest of us were using, and then it was fighting on my side, and I had an instant to breathe before going back to it. An instant to see what I already—somehow—knew. It was Kylin beside me, the kill-lust blazing so strongly from his eyes that the four mercenaries seemed to flinch back even before his weapon began swinging. After that it was his sword they had to contend with, and a moment later mine beside it, and that was the well-known beginning of the end. Three of the mercenaries were already down with the fourth trying to run when the House forces appeared in the doorway, unshaven and filthy and badly kept, but armed and more than simply furious. The mercenary was cut down without being given a chance to defend himself, and then friendly forces were pouring into the hall, overrunning everything in mercenary tan.
The fighting was over in no time at all, but there wasn't a bedlam in the kingdom that could have rivaled the output in that hall even once it was. Everyone seemed to be looking for more blood to spill, an attitude 1 would have shared if my left arm hadn't been hurting so badly, and the strength I'd thought I'd regained hadn't disappeared somewhere. 1 stood for a
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moment with both arms hanging at my sides, the sword still in my right hand more a dragging weight than a weapon, then remembered that my father hadn't yet been untied. It took a small amount of effort to turn, but that was all the effort I had to expend. Even as I watched the leather was cut away from his second wrist by Kylin's blade, and my father pushed out of the chair to clap the man who had released him on the shoulder in thanks, then he turned to me. A quick hug showed I was still more or less in one piece, and then I was freed so that he might step over to Traixe's unmoving form and go to one knee. A muttered, "Thank Evon," told me the Fighter was only unconscious, and then my father was up and pushing his way through the crowd toward where my sisters should be. I followed him with my eyes until the swirling mob had swallowed him, and then turned back to find that 1 was being stared at.
"Are you all right?" the big man who had saved my life asked, not having moved from his place beside the wooden chair. "Is any of that blood yours?"
I didn't bother looking down at myself to inspect the splattered results of my efforts to exterminate mercenaries. What 1 did do was shake my head,
"According to those traitors, you're not one of them," I said, feeling confused as well as dizzy and tired. "I was sure you were, but I must have been wrong, I'm sorry—"
"You thought 1 was one of the enemy?" he asked when I ran out of stupidly inadequate words, his face lighting with a dazzling smile instead of tightening with insult. "So that's why you kept acting that way, and why you did all those ..."
He had finally begun to step forward toward me, but his advance and his words were cut off together. Somehow my father had gotten the mob moving to a purpose, and part of it went to tend to Traixe while a larger section of it swirled around me. An instant later I found myself beside my father and my sisters, the poor, frightened little things clinging to him, but he still had an arm free to put around my shoulders. With grim-faced fighters surrounding us I was wordlessly urged to go with them, and as tired as I was I had nothing left to argue with.
It took my father and me quite some time to get my sisters
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settled down, and by that time the house's loyal servants and the ancillary families had also been released from where they'd been locked up. The girls' women attendants insisted they were just a little shaky, nothing that would keep them from seeing to their charges again, so we left them with those charges sunk into an exhausted sleep—and armed fighters stationed inside the room as well as outside it—and went to my apartment. Someone had been efficient enough to light the lamps in my reception room, which meant my father was able to go directly over to a tray holding a pitcher and goblets.
"Thank Evon. Traixe told me no one had supplied you with decent, adult refreshments," my father said with his back turned, his hands busy with the pitcher and cups. "If I hadn't given immediate orders to change that, we'd have to go all the way to my own apartment before finding what we've more than earned. Are you sure you're all right?"
He turned toward me then with the filled cups in his hands, his expression serious and his eyes troubled. 1 smiled faintly at how familiar that question was becoming, leaned back in the chair I had already collapsed into, and nodded my head.
"I haven't been this tired since before last year's snow," I said, accepting a cup with my right hand. The pain in my left arm was easing up again, but not so much that I was ready to use it without good reason. "Once I've had more than three hours of sleep I'll be my usual brave and exciting self, but I haven't yet asked about you. Did they hurt you?"
"Only my dignity and pride," he answered with a snort, pulling a straight chair closer before sitting on it. "That low traitor Fonid came into my apartment with your sisters and two of his cronies, daggers at your sisters' throats. 1 had the choice of surrendering myself and every Guard and fighter in the house, or watching my children die. If it had been myself alone— But it wasn't just me, so I did what I had to. They didn't do any more than tie me after I was disarmed, keeping me healthy as a bargaining chip, I thought, and then those mercenaries appeared to help out with securing the castle. I had no idea you'd gotten away from the ones who had kidnapped you."
"It was more through Even's luck than skill," 1 admitted with a snort of my own, sipping at the excellent wine my cup
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was filled with. "It took me a while to get back, and when 1 did I found those idiots from the city were getting ready to attack the castle in a lamebrained attempt to rescue you. I couldn't let that happen, so I .got a few people and came ahead of them."
"Those were your Fistmates, then," he said with a satisfied nod, enjoying the taste of his own wine. "I won't ask where they came from, I'm just glad they did. And that fifth man is from the city, I remember meeting him a time or two. How in Even's name did you six get into the castle?"
"Let's just say we'd be wise to be grateful for my—unusually active childhood," I answered—or evaded, which was a good deal more like it. I knew my father would be finding out soon enough exactly what I'd done, but I was in no hurry to rush the time. After being grateful, I was certain he'd find occasion to be something else entirely.
"We'll go into that in a little more detail once we've all had a chance to rest," he said, the look in his eyes suddenly very familiar. He knew he wasn't going to like what he heard, but he was still feeling too relieved and happy to want to exchange that for shouting. Changing the subject seemed like a better idea, so that's what he did. "I take it you've learned a little more about Kylin over the past few days. He rode out after you when we found you'd been taken, and since he showed up back here in the middle of the fight, I'm assuming— What's the matter?"
"It just occurred to me that you weren't surprised at seeing the way he can handle a sword," I said slowly, straightening in my chair as the revelation came. "He cut you free and you thanked him, just as though you approved of him—and always had. And you had to know he wasn't a Fiower. He was still wearing that ridiculous red swordbelt, but he'd changed into brown boots instead of the red. If you knew he rode after me, you also knew—exactly what, Father?"
"That he's a King's Fighter," my father answered heavily, more than a little guilt darkening his complexion and causing his gaze to wander around the room. "Trame and I had had it all worked out in case the enemy came after me as we suspected they might, but we hadn't expected them to change their plans. We knew something had gone seriously wrong when you were kidnapped, so there was no longer any need
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for Kylin to pretend to be anything other than what he was. Sofaltis ..."
"A King's Fighter!" 1 repeated, my tone causing my father to flinch even as apology app
eared in his eyes. "Not a Flower but a King's Fighter, and you and Traixe knew it all along! That line he fed me, about how you were all ready to sacrifice everything you had and order me not to marry—was that your idea too, Father? Was 1 supposed to get so choked up with gratitude that I went meekly to the slaughter like a good little iamb? Or maybe I should say blindfolded, untrustworthy little lamb. How brave and noble of you to share the truth with me now."
I discovered I was on my feet again, tiredness burned away in the flames of rage. They'd all known, but I hadn't been important enough to share the secret with.
"I didn't keep the truth from you because I didn't trust you," my father protested, also rising to look down at me. "I was trying to keep you safe, girl, a desire you'll understand once you become a parent yourself. And of course he's a King's Fighter. Did you think I'd choose less than the best for you? And even above that, he was attracted from the first minute he saw you. Once you give him a chance ..."
"He'll what?" I snapped, the rage growing so high in me I was sorry I still wore a sword. "He'll sweep me off my feet, make me fall madly in love with him, cause me to want to open my own throat on the altar of expendiency? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Father, but I'm not in the mood to be your sacrificial offering. If you want a King's Fighter for an heir, you can adopt your precious Kylin. Come morning, I'm heading back to my Company."
I turned away from him, so filled with bitter disappointment that I couldn't bear it, but his hand came to my shoulder to keep me from moving any farther toward my bedchamber.
"Sofaltis, you won't be out of danger until you're married," he said, his tone weary but as gentle as the grip that held me. "I can see now I should have told you what I was doing just as Traixe urged, but it's too late for second guesses or regrets. I love you and I'm as proud of you as it's possible to be, but I can't allow you to refuse the marriage. Even if the Law did let me abrogate the contract I'd refuse, because I must see you safe. As soon as Traixe is on his feet you'll be
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married to Kylin and then he'll be declared my heir, just as the contract requires. All I ask after that is that you give him a chance to make you happy."
The fingers on my shoulder squeezed just a little and then they were gone, footsteps taking them to the door and out. I stood there for a moment, caught up in a whirlwind of the vilest emotions, and then I put my cup aside and strode to the door after him. The argument wasn't over, not by a long shot, and I wanted my father to know it. I reached to the latch and pulled on it then pulled again, but it was no use. My father had left and I was locked in.
Chapter 16
That far underground the stones were damp and green and slimy, the only light provided by sputtering torches, but none of the men in the room were overly concerned with their surroundings. If they had been they would have been more upset by the smears and small pools of blood, or by the metal instruments caked a dark, reddish brown. Even the man strapped to the wooden table wasn't taking notice, but that might have been because he was now unconscious. Before he'd fainted, however, he'd been screaming.
"1 think I believe him," Traixe grudged from the chair he sat in, gesturing back the man who stood beside the body on the table. "If he hasn't told us everything he knows he probably never will, but I think he has. Doing anything more to him will be pleasant, but I don't expect it to be productive."
"I agree," Kylin said, brought back to attention by Traixe's words. After hearing how desperately the enemy had been trying to get their hands on Sofaltis, his mind had been busy thanking Evon for letting him get into the castle in time to keep it from happening again—that or worse. If someone in the girl's group hadn't been in too much of a hurry to close the outer tunnel door properly, or if he hadn't had a guide to lead him to it ... "At this point he's starting to make things up, just to avoid the agony. I've seen it happen before."
"Then he doesn't know why Nimram wants Sofaltis," Duke Rilfe growled, clearly unhappy. "After his boasting I was hoping he did, but he was just following orders. Get the girl no matter what you have to do to accomplish it, and bring her to me. The tin-bound brass of the bastard!"
"A bastard, yes, but with a bear-trap mind," Kylin said,
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beginning to match the Duke's growl. "Since it would have been 'rebels' who took your daughter, there would have been no link whatsoever to him and his priests, [f someone found out he had her, he would claim his people had 'found' and 'rescued' her, which would make them heroes. The only question left is, what in Evon's brightest heil was he going to do with her?"
"If we're very, very lucky, we'll never know," Traixe said, pushing himself to standing with some difficulty. He'd insisted on being there to direct Fonid's questioning, but the balance of the night and half a day's rest hadn't really been enough to restore him to health. "If it's all right with you, my lords, we can hold the ceremony tomorrow."
"It's fine with me, Traixe, but I can still swing a sword," Kylin said, taking care not to glance at Duke Rilfe. "Are you sure you want to officiate while you can't?"
"If necessary, /'// protect him," the Duke put in in frustration, then slammed a fist down on the heavy wooden table. "Evon broil that girl, I'll have her hide if she tries anything during the ceremony! Did you hear what she did this morning?"
"I heard she sent half a dozen of Traixe's fighters running to get a locked door between them again," Kylin said, helpless to keep the grin from his face. "Prancing in with a tray of food and forgetting she was still armed— Are they usually that suicidal, or were they just tired from having been up too long?"
"You're on her side," Traixe observed, as amused as the pain in his body let him be. "If my lord Duke hadn't locked her in, you'd be short one bride on your wedding day. Would that make you happier?"
"The answer to that, my friend, is no," Kylin said with a laugh as he folded his arms. "If the answer was yes, I would have already broken her out of there. I am on her side, but if I let myself admit I know exactly how she feels, I'll lose her. I'll do my damnedest to make it up to her later—after she's my wife."
"If she lets you live long enough," Duke Rilfe muttered, moving closer to Traixe to begin helping him out of the room. "I never thought I'd see the day I felt sorry for the man I chose to marry my daughter. If I were you, Kylin, I'd . . ."
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Kylin let the Duke's voice fade away as he stopped to tell the Guards outside the door that the broken remains on the table .were to be returned to the cell they'd come from. The Duke could decide later what he wanted done with the traitor, or Kylin himself would see to it if Duke Rilfe preferred—as long as it was after die wedding. Until then Kylin was too distracted with pleasant thoughts, thoughts, centering around his Tisah. And she was his Tisah, happily and definitely his. She'd thought he was an enemy and a traitor, and that's why she'd refused to let herself open to him. Now that she knew the truth everything in the world would be fine—as soon as he managed to get her calmed down. She would be safe and she would be his, and everything in the world would be fine. He chuckled as he headed for the upper world again, already beginning to whistle.
Oeran entered Rullin's reception room, unsurprised to find the other three Blades keeping his old friend company. They had sitting rooms of their own in the apartments they'd been given, but they, like he, preferred to congregate where there was someone to talk to. Not that there was any talking going on. The small ex-Blade had seen final farewells with more life than that room showed.
"How's your arm doing, Foist?" he asked as he closed the door behind him, a little afraid he already knew why the silence was so thick. "And Ham, what did the healer have to say about your leg?"
"They're scratches, Oeran, nothing but scratches," Foist answered as he glanced up, showing the faint, cold smile he considered warm acknowledgement. "We appreciate your
asking."
"I'm glad to see you four appreciate something," Oeran commented, moving closer to the chair where Rullin sat, "So far none of you has gone out of his way to be a very gracious guest. What's the matter, isn't the cooking and service up to
your standards?"
"Damn it, Oeran, they have her locked up!" Rullin growled, raising cold eyes to the man he addressed. "Are we supposed to celebrate the fact that our fifth is a prisoner in her father's
house?"
"Rull, he has the right," Oeran said slowly and distinctly,
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leaning into the glare he would have preferred backing away from. "And not only the right, but he'd be crazy if he did anything else. If the enemy went to such lengths to keep her from marrying, then marriage is the only thing that can get her out from under. Would you rather see her captured or dead?"
"You know we wouldn't," Jak answered, drawing Oeran's eyes. "We simply feel that there's no reason we couldn't protect her—until she's ready to marry someone who really cares about her."
"Damn it, I knew it!" Oeran exploded quietly, taking his turn at glaring, most especially at Rullin. "When my people told me you went to her room— Rull, use your head! She's not only the daughter of a Duke, she's his eldest daughter with all his sons dead or gone! He needs her to give him a legitimate heir, and that heir can't be a lovable but familyless Blade! She's being married to the son of another Duke, who also happens to be a King's Fighter. If you try stepping into the middle of that, your hide won't be worth a shaved copper. It'll be a tossup as to who gets your stones first, the Law or that bruiser.''
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