Dare (The Blades of Acktar Book 1)

by Tricia Mingerink

  At that moment, Leith wished with everything in him that he was something other than a Blade. If he was a better person—a braver person—he’d carry through with his suggestion and leave.

  But he’d never sacrificed himself for someone else. It went against everything King Respen had trained him to be. He didn’t have the courage to force himself to get up and ride away nor did he have the courage to offer to hide what he learned from King Respen.

  In fact, the first option appealed to him more than what would happen to him if the king ever found out that Leith had been less than forthcoming.

  The door banged open. A snow bundle tottered in. Forcing the door closed, the snow-clad Brandi shoved the bar in place. She clawed her scarf from her mouth, revealing a wide grin.

  “This is an awesome blizzard! There’s a drift as tall as the stable next to the house! The animals are all right.” She met Leith’s gaze. “Your horse is fed and happy. What’s his name?”

  Leith blinked. “It’s a horse. Doesn’t have a name.”

  Brandi shook snow from her hair. “Every horse needs a name. I named him Blizzard.”

  “Blizzard? He’s dark gray.” How did a dark gray horse remind Brandi of a blizzard?

  “He came here in a blizzard.” Brandi shrugged like it was as obvious as winter. “And he’s all speckled with lighter gray fur. Like snow in a blizzard.”

  She hung her winter things on a peg and scampered across the room towards the fire. Kneeling near his knees, she stretched her hands to the fire, palms out to collect the heat and clasp it close. Her frozen, red-blond hair dripped onto the blanket covering him.

  “Brandi, you’re dripping on him.” Renna laid her hand on Brandi’s shoulder, as if to pull her sister away before her melting offended him.

  “It’s all right. He’s too hot anyway. He’s sweating.” Brandi rolled her eyes.

  Leith smiled at her lack of fear. Even though she’d probably been told he was a Blade, Brandi wasn’t suppressed for long. He should be plotting how to use her innocence to his advantage. But he could do that later. If he survived.

  Renna placed her hand on his forehead. Her hand felt cool and soft. “A little warm.” She frowned. “The wound must have an infection.”

  A draft of air brushed his skin as she pulled the blanket back. He tried to ignore her fingers brushing his skin as she unwrapped the bandages from his stomach.

  With firm fingers, she probed his wound. Bolts of pain shot through his body. He clenched his jaws so tightly his teeth ached.

  Renna leaned over and asked her sister something in a whisper too quiet for Leith to hear. Brandi’s eyes widened, but she nodded and leapt to her feet. She returned a moment later, holding a glass bottle. Amber liquid swirled inside.

  Leith gritted his teeth even tighter. Unless he’d guessed wrong, that bottle contained a strong alcohol. She’d probably used it on him before, though he’d been thankfully unconscious at the time.

  “Brandi, can you try to hold him still?” Renna’s voice was calm and smooth, lacking the pitches and shakes he’d heard earlier.

  Brandi placed one hand on his forehead and the other on his chest. Her hands felt like icicles from her time spent outdoors feeding his horse. She leaned her weight on his chest. Although small, he could feel strength in her arms.

  Leith braced himself, clenching both his fists and jaws as tight as he could. He heard the splash of liquid as Renna poured the alcohol onto his wound.

  A burning pain flared across his stomach. He jerked away from it, but Brandi’s hands pinned him down. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and a whimper lodged in the back of his throat. Foolish weakness.

  “It’s all right,” Brandi soothed, as if he was a helpless kitten she’d found stranded in the stables. “Renna’s almost done.”

  Leith shivered. He felt cold, deep down cold, as if he still clung to his saddle in the raging blizzard. Breathing was growing more difficult.

  “Could he have more laudanum?” The note of concern in Brandi’s voice pierced him. When was the last time someone had worried about him? Sixth Blade Martyn Hamish might worry, but he couldn’t think of anyone else.

  “Yes, I’ll fetch it.” Renna pushed to her feet. “You can fetch him a drink of water.”

  Brandi skipped across the room to the bucket and dipped the pewter cup into the water. Leith focused on breathing.

  She breezed back to his side and slid her hand beneath his head. “Here’s some water.”

  Pewter pressed to his mouth. He sipped as best he could. The mouthfuls were pitiful compared to the thirst tightening the back of his throat.

  Renna joined her sister, holding a spoon with liquid. She placed it in his mouth. He swallowed, the sour taste curling his tongue. Brandi gave him a few more sips.

  Leith closed his eyes as a numbing tiredness spread through his body.

  5

  He’d helped kill her parents. Renna rocked back on her heels as the Blade returned to sleep. How was she going to do this? She was supposed to love her enemies, but surely he was exempt.

  She clasped her shaking hands. How were she and Brandi going to survive this? Their life had been reduced to a few moments of semi-normality snatched between the minutes of terror whenever their patient was awake.

  What would Brandi accidentally say in front of him? Would he use Brandi’s innocence to gain more information about them?

  Maybe she should’ve taken him up on his offer to leave. It wouldn’t have been that hard to help him out the door and onto his horse. Their problems would be over. He’d be gone, and they’d be safe.

  Except that it was wrong. Life belonged to the Lord. She’d placed his life in the Lord’s hand when she’d decided to help him the night before. It was God’s decision whether the Blade lived or died now, not hers.

  The Blade’s wound had the redness of a beginning infection so perhaps his death was God’s will. She grimaced. She shouldn’t be so happy about that.

  Rubbing her scratchy, tired eyes, she pushed herself to her feet. She and Brandi had too much to do to spend her time worrying about things she couldn’t change now.

  With that in mind, she kept them busy cleaning the kitchen, preparing food for themselves and a broth for their patient should he be able to hold it down, and braving the blizzard, bundled to their eyelashes with scarves, hats, and mittens, to fetch more firewood to last them through the rest of the day and night. The firewood formed a dripping, steaming pile as it warmed after being ice chunks in the cold.

  The Blade slept most of the day. He grew restless during the afternoon, flailing and muttering as he slept. Renna spent most of the afternoon and evening dabbing his forehead and face with cloths dipped in cold water.

  Were all her efforts really worth it? She wanted him to die. It’d be so much easier if she ignored him and let the fever take him. But, her conscience wouldn’t let her turn her back. Aunt Mara had ingrained healing into her heart and fingers from the time she was small.

  If only Aunt Mara was here to care for the Blade. But with the blizzard whining around the manor, Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara wouldn’t return that night.

  Stifling her yawns, she and Brandi sneaked out for a few minutes to hold devotions and read their Bible together in another room where the Blade wouldn’t overhear should he wake.

  When they returned to the kitchen, Brandi laid a hand on Renna’s arm. “You’re exhausted. I’ll stay up with him for a few hours while you get some sleep.”

  Renna nearly refused. She didn’t want her sister alone with the Blade, even if he was unconscious. He might become delirious with fever. But she was about to fall asleep where she stood. “All right, but wake me in two hours.”

  When Brandi nodded, Renna collapsed onto their mattress and fell asleep moments later.

  She awoke far too soon. Brandi’s voice hissed into her ear. “Wake up.”

  “What?” She pushed herself up and swiped her hair from her face.

  “Your turn to wa
tch him.” Brandi yawned, yanked off her shoes, and flopped onto the mattress.

  Tugging on her shoes, Renna wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and hunched in the chair by the fire. The door rattled under a gust of wind, shards of ice crackling against the window. At her feet, the Blade remained still.

  Leaning forward, she spread her fingers toward the warmth of the fire. Her toes bumped the Blade’s shoulder. He flinched in his sleep and cringed away from her foot. She watched him for a few minutes, but he didn’t move again.

  The silence woke her. Renna raised her head and winced at the pain that shot through her neck. Straightening, she groaned as the kinks in her body protested sleeping in the wooden chair.

  The persistent howling had gone as silent as her parents’ graves in the field behind the manor. She glanced at their patient. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his sleep restful. Disappointment dragged a bitter taste over her tongue. He hadn’t died.

  Renna couldn’t make herself understand. Her parents had been good people, good Christians, good citizens, but they’d been brutally murdered in their own home just because they were related to the king. This Blade was one of her parents’ murderers, yet he survived.

  Pushing to her feet, she tiptoed to the window. The undulating snow drifts glittered like handfuls of diamonds had been scattered across their surface, their crests blushing pink with newborn sunlight. Her breath frosted the windowpane.

  Renna turned away and padded across the room. The icy brick floor bit at her bare toes. Kneeling, she laid a hand on the Blade’s forehead. Her shoulders sagged. His fever had broken.

  Shivering, she poked at the coals, blowing on them until their hearts glowed orange. Adding smaller sticks, she waited until they caught fire before stacking bigger logs around them.

  When the fire crackled and blasted out heat, she set the pot of broth nearby to heat in case the Blade was hungry. She placed slices of bread on a clean rock next to the flames, letting the heat crisp the edges and warm the inside. The heat on her face and arms soothed like the warm blankets she’d left behind.

  “Are either of those for me?”

  Renna shrieked and nearly whacked the Blade in the head with the fire poker. But bodily harm wasn’t something a healer should inflict. “You scared me.”

  He turned his face away from her, something flickering in his green eyes. “I do that a lot.”

  Renna bit her tongue before she said something she’d regret. He was a Blade, a cold-hearted, mark-bearing killer. Of course he scared her. “I’m warming broth for you.”

  His grimace creased his slim cheeks. Renna grimaced as well. It was a sure sign that he was healing if he was hungry. She did her best to ignore him while she finished toasting the bread.

  Brandi didn’t wake up until the smell of warm bread and chicken broth filled the room. Her nose lifted first, pulling the rest of her body upright. Her eyes popped open as she pranced to the table, her hair frizzing around her head. “Is breakfast ready?”

  Renna nodded and sat on the bench next to the table. She stared at her plate. Yesterday Brandi had convinced her to pray silently while the Blade slept. But this morning Renna could feel his eyes on them.

  Across the table, Brandi clasped her hands and glanced at Renna. Her eyes held the question. Would they pray in front of their patient and risk the king’s punishment? Or would they hide?

  If only she could curl up back in bed. It was too early in the morning to make decisions like this. The right thing would be to boldly declare her faith regardless of the consequences. She shuddered. She didn’t want to be arrested, dragged to the king’s castle, tortured, and possibly killed.

  Hiding would be so much easier. She and Brandi could pray silently, without folding their hands or closing their eyes. She scrubbed her palms against her forehead. Why did she have to choose between what was right and what was safe?

  Brandi met her gaze with her blue, trusting eyes. “I’m not afraid.”

  “You should be.” Renna hung her head.

  Her sister’s voice dropped into a whisper. “If God is for us, who can be against us?”

  Brandi’s innocence overwhelmed Renna. But her sister didn’t understand. God could be for them, but they still could be arrested, even killed.

  Brandi solved the problem for her. She bowed her head, clasped her hands, and prayed out loud as if she didn’t care that a Blade was listening. Renna hurriedly bowed her head along with her sister. “God in Heaven, thank-you for stopping the blizzard and keeping Renna and me safe and warm. Thanks for healing Leith and for this food. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

  Brandi crunched into her toast, tearing it apart as if she hadn’t eaten for days. Renna could only blink at her food for several minutes. Brandi hadn’t asked for a single thing. She’d only given thanks, including for the Blade’s healing.

  Renna didn’t dare turn around to see the Blade’s reaction. Nor did she want him to see the guilt etched in her eyes. Brandi might be thankful that the Blade was healing, but Renna wasn’t.

  Leith held still as the two sisters finished their breakfast. Brandi had prayed for him. An uncomfortable feeling pinched his stomach. She’d prayed for him, and he’d have to turn her in to King Respen for it.

  At least Renna had an accurate picture of who he was. She wasn’t blindly trusting like Brandi, and most likely she hadn’t prayed for his recovery. In fact, if he wasn’t set against gambling, he’d bet on the opposite.

  Still, she’d done everything in her power to heal him even though she hated him. He couldn’t understand it and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  After the girls finished breakfast, they had a whispered argument over who had to haul the water from the well. Brandi must’ve lost because she tromped outside a moment later. Renna fetched a bowl and spoon and ladled a scoop of broth. Actually, Leith mused, both sisters lost.

  She slid her cold fingers behind his head. He gripped the blankets. She intended to feed him like a baby. He lifted his hand to grab the spoon from her. Pain twisted through his stomach. He gasped and dropped his hand. He was helpless. Thankfully King Respen wasn’t here to see his weakness.

  Leith opened his mouth and allowed Renna to place a spoonful of broth on his tongue. He swallowed, his stomach rumbling with an awakened hunger. Once he finished the full bowl, his stomach pressed contentedly against the bandages.

  He glanced up, catching her blue eyes before she swiveled her gaze away. “I am grateful. I know helping me is the last thing you want to do.”

  She shook her head, stood, and washed the bowl and spoon. He watched her back, her blond braid swinging between her shoulders.

  He was some kind of monster. Who else would allow himself to be healed while intending to betray those who cared for him? He watched the flames lick at the logs in the fireplace. A better person would stand up to King Respen, but Leith wasn’t a good person…or brave.

  Brandi burst into the room. “Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara are coming! I can see their sleigh!”

  Leith studied the relief easing the lines between Renna’s eyebrows. Their aunt and uncle? He searched the room, locating his knives tossed against the far wall. He didn’t have the strength to reach them, much less defend himself. Whatever strange compassion gripped Renna, he could only hope her aunt and uncle suffered it too.

  6

  Renna glanced between the Blade and the door. What would her aunt and uncle think when they saw the Blade? How was she going to explain that she’d put them all at risk by taking him in?

  She grabbed her cloak, clasping it around her neck while flinging the door open. She stumbled outside, Brandi at her heels, as the sound of the jingling bells rang over the snow drifts.

  The black speck in the distance sharpened into a sleigh pulled by a shaggy mule. Aunt Mara and Uncle Abel formed blanket-wrapped lumps on the bench.

  They stopped in front of the manor, and Brandi flung herself at Aunt Mara before she had a chance to climb out. Renna followed at a slower pace.
No doubt Brandi’s over-active mouth would spout the news of their patient before Renna had a chance to say it.

  As Renna reached the side of the sleigh, Brandi was indeed gushing with the news of their patient while she gave Stubborn, their easy-going mule, a pat on the nose. But she spent more time talking about the horse now lodged in their stables and befriending their milk goats than she did on the young man lying in front of their fireplace.

  Aunt Mara cocked her head at Renna. Renna opened her mouth to speak, but her throat closed. Too many life or death decisions had rested on her shoulders.

  Aunt Mara tucked Renna against her in a one-armed hug. “Let’s get inside.”

  “No, wait!” Renna pulled away. Her uncle started towards the stables, but she stopped him. “We need to tell you something first.”

  Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara glanced between the two of them. Aunt Mara’s hands trembled. “Brandi wasn’t making stories? There really is a Blade here?”

  “I heard a thump the first night of the blizzard. He was slumped against the door with an arrow in his stomach. We dragged him inside and helped him, though we didn’t know at first he was a Blade.” Renna twisted her hands together, staring at the ground. “I asked him. He’s the Third Blade.”

  Aunt Mara pressed a hand to her mouth and stumbled backwards. Uncle Abel gripped her shoulders. The lines around his mouth deepened into a frown. “We heard there were Blades in the area. Michelle Allen was snatched off the streets two nights ago. Sheriff Allen gathered a few men, and they stumbled upon two men holding his daughter in an abandoned shed.”

  Renna swallowed. The Blade had kidnapped Michelle Allen. What had he done to her? “What happened?”

  “One of the men was shot and killed. The other was wounded but escaped. When they examined the dead man, they learned they’d killed a Blade. Sheriff Allen plans to seek the other one now that the blizzard is over. He can’t have him return to the king and tell who killed the other Blade.” Uncle Abel glanced at the manor.