Dare (The Blades of Acktar Book 1)

by Tricia Mingerink

  When he glanced up, the level of fear had risen in everyone’s eyes. “I’ll go saddle my horse.”

  He grabbed his cloak and limped into the snow-covered yard, following the trench Lachlan had shoveled through the snow from the manor to the stable. Inside, his horse greeted him with a low nicker, accompanied by the bleat of a brown goat.

  Leith saddled his horse and led it from the stable. It tugged on the reins, as if unhappy about being led away from its warm stall. The goat called uproariously from the stable behind them, as if it sensed that Leith was taking away its friend without allowing a proper goodbye.

  Outside, he found the whole family gathered to see him off. As if he was a guest. As if they cared about him.

  He stopped in front of them. How did he go about saying a decent goodbye?

  Mara handed him a cloth-wrapped bundle. “Some provisions for your way.”

  “Thanks.” Still they helped him. Even though his leaving brought danger that much closer. When was the last time someone had cared if he'd had enough to eat?

  He placed the bundle in a saddlebag. When he turned, he found Brandi petting his horse’s nose and choking on a goodbye. His horse bent its head and nudged her shoulder.

  Brandi patted the horse’s neck one last time. Then she faced him, tears glittering in her blue eyes. “Why do you have to go?”

  “Brandi, I…” He crouched in the snow. He could feel Renna’s gaze on him, daring him to tell Brandi the truth he'd ignored for the past few weeks. Tell her he planned to report to King Respen. Tell her his report would get her killed. If not by his hand, then by another Blade’s.

  He might as well kill her now. He inched one hand toward his knives. They'd lured him into forgetting his duty. And forgetfulness was the next step to failure.

  His hand closed over one of the knives strapped across his chest where the others couldn’t see. He was the Third Blade. He didn't fail.

  He should yank it out and stab her now. As a Blade, he had to kill anyone on King Respen’s order. Even Brandi. If he couldn’t, then he’d already failed.

  Draw his knife. Draw it. He could do this. His hand trembled on the knife’s hilt. He could plunge his knife into Brandi’s chest and watch her blood pool on the snow.

  He dropped his hand. He couldn’t do it. He’d failed King Respen. His perfect record. All his successful marks. All gone.

  But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t kill Brandi.

  A heady freedom buzzed his head. He didn’t have to be Daniel’s enemy. If he stayed silent, Renna and Brandi could continue their lives as if he’d never been here.

  Why did he have to return? He could ride away. With this much of a head start, he might be able to outrun Vane. What would it be like to be free?

  Leith gripped Brandi’s shoulders, ignoring Renna’s intake of breath and Lachlan’s step forward. “I have to return. If I were to disappear, King Respen would have me hunted. He’d send Blades here, and I can’t let that happen. You understand?”

  He needed her to understand. He’d give anything to stay here, to never kill again, never follow another order. But he was a Blade, and Blades couldn’t quit any way except death.

  She nodded and sniffled. Then she did the most unexpected thing of all.

  She hugged him.

  As her arms wrapped around his neck, Leith held his breath. When was the last time he’d been hugged? Perhaps by his mother? He gave in and wrapped his arms around Brandi’s slim back.

  Brandi pulled away and placed her hands on her hips. “You take good care of Blizzard.”

  He stood and squeezed her shoulders. “Of course.”

  Brandi gave him a glare like she was going to hold him to that promise. As she whirled and trudged back to her family, Leith’s eyes met Renna’s. She twisted her hands in her skirt. Had he really planned to betray her?

  He glanced at Abel and Mara Lachlan before turning his gaze back to Renna. “As far as King Respen will know, I was never here.”

  Her scrunched eyebrows told him she didn’t believe him. No matter. He’d given her no reason to trust him.

  With a final nod in their direction, he turned to his horse. Placing his foot in the stirrup, he pulled himself into the saddle. His wound burned. When he settled into the saddle, the pain eased to a dull ache.

  He pointed the horse away from the manor and nudged with his heels. “Come on, horse. Let’s go.”

  The horse didn’t budge. He nudged it again. What was Brandi’s name for it? “All right, Blizzard. Time to go.” The horse walked forward, turning its head and tugging on the reins like it wanted to turn back. Leith forced himself not to turn around, not to wave. A Blade shouldn’t—wouldn’t—feel any regret at leaving.

  As his horse trotted deeper into the rolling hills of Acktar’s snow-drifted prairie, he spotted a horse cresting one of the hills, headed towards him. The distance prevented him from recognizing the rider.

  He drew his horse to a stop and glanced over his shoulder. The hills they’d crossed hid both the town and manor from sight.

  He studied the rider and weighed his options. He could urge his horse into a gallop. He didn’t doubt his horse’s ability even in the deep snow, but he didn’t know the speed of the other horse. Nor was his wound healed enough to take the strain.

  He had to stay and see what the man wanted. Leith swept his cloak out of the way and touched the hilt of his knife. If only he’d mastered the art of throwing knives. He didn’t have the hand-eye coordination necessary. Only a few Blades did.

  Leith tensed and gripped the knife. Stetterly’s sheriff rode towards him, his hunting bow held loosely in his hands. It wasn’t drawn back. Leith would have a few minutes warning before the sheriff fired at him.

  The sheriff halted his horse. “I knew you had to be hiding in the manor. But I didn’t expect the Lachlans would purposefully hide you.”

  “They tried to prevent you from doing something you’d regret.” Leith kept his face expressionless, hiding his churning stomach. He couldn’t die here. Not now. He needed to protect Renna and Brandi. “You already killed one Blade. If you kill me, you’ll have the deaths of two Blades on your head.”

  “You touched my daughter.” The sheriff raised the bow and pointed the arrow at Leith’s chest.

  “I never laid a hand on her.” Of all things to die for, he’d rather not die for the one thing he hadn’t done. “If you want to punish someone, punish your daughter for unwisely being in that tavern in the first place.”

  The sheriff’s nose flared. Leith raised his eyebrows. What story had that girl told her father? It certainly wasn’t the truth. “I see she didn’t tell you that part. You should be grateful nothing worse than a scare happened to her.”

  The sheriff ground his teeth and prepared to draw the string. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll still tell the king I killed a Blade.”

  Leith drew one of his knives. “The Lachlans have more reason to fear what I’ll tell the king than you do, yet they let me go. I would suggest you do the same.” Leith twisted his knife so it caught the morning light. “You might be able to shoot me. But I’ll live long enough to kill you.”

  The sheriff’s hand tugged on the string, the arrow rubbing back and forth against the bow. A bitter taste flooded Leith’s mouth. The bow started to lower.

  Leith stared at the sheriff until the bow pointed at the ground. The sheriff’s shoulders slumped. Leith nudged Blizzard forward. The sheriff didn’t move.

  His shoulders prickled, but Leith didn’t look back as he rode away. The sheriff didn’t shoot. He’d frightened him into submission. A sick feeling settled into Leith’s stomach, a feeling he thought he’d left behind years ago.

  12

  Leith halted Blizzard on the hilltop overlooking Nalgar Castle. Their breaths puffed into the evening. Leith flexed his fingers. His gloves and cloak failed to ward off the late winter chill slithering across his skin.

  In the valley below, the grey stones glowed orange in the setting sun
, gleaming against the snow that drifted over the prairie. Icicles glittered from the overhanging battlements and drooled from the flag poles jutting over the arched gates. The blue flags emblazoned with black, crossed daggers hung stiff with frost.

  As Blizzard’s hooves clattered over the cobbled ramp leading to the iron-bound gates, each beat pressed against his heart. Could he lie to King Respen? His fellow Blades? If he failed to be convincing, he’d be punished and the girls would die.

  Inside the gates, the bustle of the castle surrounded him. A stableboy appeared at Leith’s elbow as soon as he dismounted. Leith handed him the reins, grabbed his saddlebags, and tossed them over his shoulder.

  As the stableboy led Blizzard away, Leith stopped himself from patting Blizzard’s rump. A Blade didn’t care about his horse.

  First Blade Harrison Vane strolled from the tall, stone archway next to the stables. His blue eyes, cold as the layer of ice covering the courtyard, froze Leith’s skin. If Vane had returned, then he’d captured Zed.

  Leith limped forward. Could Vane read Leith’s intentions? Drawing in a deep breath, Leith clenched his right fist and thumped it over his heart. “Third Blade reporting in.”

  Vane’s gaze raked over him. “Alive, I see. We heard rumors to the contrary.”

  “Chimb didn’t make it.” Leith rubbed his wound as he and Vane passed the guards guarding the entrance to the arched passageway that connected the cobbled main courtyard to the southern, grass-covered courtyard that belonged to the king and privileged guests. “I took an arrow.”

  In the middle of the passageway, Vane halted. To their right, a set of stairs led into King Respen’s chambers. An arched doorway to their left opened onto the wooden bridge spanning the moat surrounding the Blades’ Tower.

  Vane arched one, light brown eyebrow. “Did you learn anything?”

  Leith couldn’t swallow. He couldn’t lick his lips. He couldn’t do anything to betray the nerves twisting his chest. “Nothing that can’t wait until the Meeting.”

  Vane drew his knife and twisted it in his hands. A smile shivered across his face. “Did you see the ladies Brandiline and Rennelda?” His voice lingered on the girls’ full names.

  Ice slicked along Leith’s skin. Renna and Brandi marked the single failure on Vane’s left arm. Leith met Vane’s blue eyes. “No, I never saw them.”

  Vane tapped the tip of his knife against his teeth. His blue eyes scoured Leith. Leith held his gaze. If he squirmed, Vane would know he lied.

  “Pity.” Vane sheathed his knife. He waved towards the bridge. “Supper was served a few minutes ago.” With a tip of his head in Leith’s direction, Vane strode up the stairs to report Leith’s arrival to King Respen.

  When he disappeared, Leith shuddered. How was he going to fool both King Respen and Vane? He swiped his damp palms on his shirt.

  He headed for the Blades’ Tower, a five-story monolith looming above him. The moat had frozen into a sheet of grey ice glazed with snow. The bridge thumped with Leith’s footsteps, echoing his heartbeat and Renna’s words. You’re a slave.

  Before, he’d believed the separation of the Blades from the rest of the castle was due to their status. They were above everyone else, separated to maintain their mystery and secrecy. Perhaps that was true, but it also cut them off from contact with everyone else.

  At the end of the bridge, he rapped on the wooden gate set in the wall of the Tower. Two crossed knives, the symbol of the Blades, was carved into the stone above the door.

  A hatch swished. A boy peered through, glanced at Leith, and closed the hatch. The door creaked open. The boy stepped aside, clasped his fist, and pressed his arm across his chest. “Third Blade.”

  Leith returned the boy's salute, one of the young Blade trainees. Only Blades, their trainees, a handful of servants, and the king were allowed in this tower.

  As he tottered into the darkened common room that formed the main floor of the tower, warmth smacked his chapped face. The massive, central fireplace roared, casting dancing tongues of light across the black shapes of his fellow Blades hunched around the long tables.

  Nodding at a few of them, Leith crossed the room to the kitchen tucked along one wall. Fetching a plate and receiving his portion of food, he sat by himself at a table.

  A strange feeling swept through him. As if he should pray before his meal. Not that he believed in all that stuff, but three weeks of doing it made it something of a habit.

  His eyes swept the room, the clusters of dark-clad men, the shadows spreading across the room as if intending to smother the half-hearted light from the four candelabras. Why had he never noticed how oppressively dark this room, this tower, this entire castle were all the time?

  Martyn slid onto the bench beside him. “Heard rumors of trouble up in Stetterly. Glad to see you made it back in one piece. Where’s Chimb?”

  “Didn’t make it.” Leith didn’t want to talk about it, not even to Martyn. The less he said about the past month, the better for Renna and Brandi.

  Martyn’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “The king won’t be happy with that.”

  “No.” Leith took a bite of his meal. A Blade had died. Even if Leith said nothing about Renna, Brandi, their family’s Bible, the underground church, and the Resistance, the king’s attention would still focus on Stetterly. Leith struggled to swallow his meat.

  He was going to fail no matter what he did.

  “Vane caught Zed.” Martyn stirred his meat.

  “Did he take him back alive?”

  Martyn's blond curls glinting in the candlelight. “Been here about a week.” He stabbed at his plate. “It hasn’t been pleasant.”

  Leith's food rotted on his tongue. He didn’t have to ask. The look in Martyn’s brown eyes told him enough. Martyn had helped carry out Zed’s torture, the price Zed paid for running.

  Choking down the rest of his meal, Leith pushed away from the table. His wound twinged.

  Martyn leapt to his feet. “Are you all right?”

  Leith pressed his palm on the tabletop. “Took an arrow in Stetterly when they killed Chimb.”

  Martyn’s gaze searched him. “How bad?”

  “Bad enough I thought I might die.” Leith touched his shirt above the wound. How was he going to manage the four flights of stairs to his room? Martyn fell into step with him as he limped across the common room and forced himself up the first few stairs.

  Once they’d turned the first corner of the winding staircase, Martyn grabbed Leith’s saddlebags and tossed them over his shoulder. He drew Leith’s arm over his other shoulder. “Can’t have you passing out and falling down the stairs.”

  “Thanks.” Leith leaned his weight on his friend’s sturdy shoulder. Martyn’s height wrenched Leith’s arm above his head, but the pressure eased on his wound.

  Together, they hobbled up the staircase that spiraled along the outer wall of the Tower. At each floor, the stairs leveled into a corridor between the outer wall and the inner rooms barred with heavy, oak doors. The crossed knives symbol marked each door with a number carved in the center. 22. 21. 20. Arrow slits in the outer wall, the only windows in the entire Tower, filtered light onto the stairs and corridors.

  At the third floor, Leith glanced at the rooms, the stairs behind them, and the corridor ahead of them. No one in sight. “Do you wonder what it would be like if we weren’t Blades? If we didn’t have to obey King Respen?”

  Martyn halted. “What put a thought like that in your head?”

  Leith shrugged as best he could with his arm over Martyn’s shoulder. “Too much time to think the last couple of weeks.”

  “Well, stop thinking it. We’re Blades. That’s our duty.” Martyn started walking again, tugging Leith with him. “You’re the one who taught me that.”

  Leith turned his face away from Martyn as they climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. Do your duty and you’ll survive. He’d believed that. Once. He’d done everything King Respen had asked of him and earned his place
in the Blades.

  But all he’d done was work himself into the same slavery he’d had when cringing from his father’s fist.

  He didn’t want that slavery anymore, and he didn’t want to leave Martyn in it either. “But what if things were different? And we were free. What then?”

  Martyn shook his head as they reached the corridor. “It’s nonsense, and you know it. Stick to what we know and put thoughts like that out of your head before Vane hears them.”

  A weight snagged in Leith’s chest. His friend refused to listen. They halted in front of his door. Leith tugged his arm free. “I can manage on my own from here.”

  Martyn held out his saddlebags but didn’t let go. “Stop thinking crazy. I don’t want to see you end up tortured and killed like Zed.”

  Leith met Martyn’s gaze. “I won’t. I’ll be fine.”

  “Good.” Martyn slapped him on the shoulder. “Glad you’re back.” He strolled down the corridor towards his room, the last one on this floor. Leith watched until he disappeared around the curve of corridor.

  The truth ached inside him, but Leith couldn’t voice the words, not even to his best friend. No one could know what Leith had seen and learned in Stetterly.

  Stepping inside his room at last, he lit the single candle and locked the door behind him. He hung his saddlebags on the pegs along one wall, set the candle on the table at the head of the iron-framed cot, and pressed his hands flat against the back wall. The central chimney radiated enough heat to warm the stones.

  When his fingers lost their stiff chill, he sank onto the cot. The darkness surged through the room and over his head, choking him, choking his soul. He shivered at the stale air that pressed around him. If he could, he’d run from this place.

  But, he couldn’t. Vane would hunt him. King Respen would torture him. He didn’t dare brave either of those threats. Besides, running would only draw attention to Renna and Brandi. For their sakes, he had to stay.