She shook her head and waved at the ball of dough. “Can you finish kneading that for me?”
Renna nodded and pounded the dough. Too bad she didn’t have the courage to pound any Blade that came to kill her sister.
Brandi blasted into the room and flung her mittens onto the table. “Stubborn is starting to shed. It’s going to be spring soon.”
Renna forced a smile. Their mule didn’t have a stubborn thought in his thick head, though Brandi seemed to think he needed the name to remind him he was supposed to be stubborn. “Don’t get too close. I don’t want fur in our bread.”
Brandi plopped into a seat at the table. “Do you think Blizzard is doing all right? He should be shedding too. Leith will have to brush him a lot.”
Renna forced herself to continue kneading. Brandi brought up the Blade’s name every chance she got. Her sister had no doubt the Blade had kept his word.
But Renna had seen the fear in the Blade’s eyes. She understood that kind of fear. It made a person do strange things. Yet she couldn’t destroy the hope bouncing Brandi’s step. “I’m sure Blizzard’s fine.”
Aunt Mara flapped her hands at Brandi. “Now go wash up for supper. You can’t sit at the table shedding mule fur over everything.”
As Brandi skipped to the washbasin, Renna placed the dough in a pan and placed the pan in the coals. Her knees rested on the bricks where the Blade had lain during that blizzard. What had he told the king?
But, she couldn’t trust him. He was a Blade, and Blades didn’t protect anyone. They killed. They didn’t change.
Uncle Abel stomped in the door, flakes of packed snow tumbling from the soles of his boots. He hung his cloak on a peg and knelt in front of the fire next to Renna. “Looks warmer than it is outside.”
She managed a small smile. “According to Brandi, Stubborn’s fur told her spring is coming.”
Uncle Abel searched her eyes, then rubbed her back. Clasping her shoulder, he rose to his feet, both knees popping. “I talked to Sheriff Allen. He’s going to step up his patrols around the manor. That should scare away any prowlers.”
Unless the prowler was a Blade. But Renna didn’t mention that.
She slipped onto the bench as Aunt Mara placed the vegetable soup on the table. Renna could only sip at her soup, the salty taste souring on her tongue.
Would this fear never end? Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara seemed intent on pretending everything was fine. Brandi didn’t think anything was wrong. Was Renna the only one who saw the danger they were in?
As soon as she could, Renna retreated to her room. Perhaps re-reading her favorite psalm would ease the painful knot in her chest. She knelt on the floor and reached under her bed for her Bible on its hidden shelf attached to the frame.
It was empty. She felt back and forth, then peered under the bed. She patted the floor and bedside table.
Nothing.
Her heart pounded. She hurried to the window and checked the latch. It was open. Faint marks showed on the wood of the frame. Something sharp had nicked the paint below the latch.
Someone had been in her room. Not only that, but the stranger had been watching her long enough to know where she kept her Bible.
Her stomach lurched. She dashed from her room and skidded down the hall. She pounded on her aunt and uncle’s door.
When Uncle Abel yanked the door open, she took one look at his face and knew.
Someone had been in their room too.
“This is what comes of harboring Blades. I told you he was trouble.” Sheriff Allen paced across their kitchen.
Renna clenched her fists and hunched in her seat beside the table. She’d brought this danger onto her family. It wasn’t Uncle Abel’s fault. It was hers.
“We don’t know if Leith Torren stole our Bibles.” Uncle Abel crossed his arms and leaned against the chimney. “We don’t even know if it was a Blade. Could have been anybody.”
The sheriff huffed and waved at the door. “Who else would steal a Bible? No one wants to be caught with one. Did the Blade know about those hidden shelves?”
Uncle Abel’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, he did.”
When had the Blade learned about them? Renna had never shown him one. His room didn’t have one. She rubbed her upper arms. Had he prowled the manor when she wasn’t looking? What else had he learned?
Brandi crossed her arms and glowered at the sheriff. “Leith didn’t do it. He wouldn’t steal from us.”
“Why would he come back to steal them? He could’ve taken several while he was here.” Uncle Abel pointed at the pantry. “He knew where the one in this room is hidden, yet that one is still here.”
Renna hunched further. He’d learned that location because of her hesitation. Her mistake.
Sheriff Allen glared at him. “I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t want you to know it’s him.”
Aunt Mara bustled between them and laid a hand on each of their arms. “I think it is safest to assume it was a Blade, and it doesn’t really matter which Blade it was. The girls are in danger.”
Renna glanced at her sister perched on the bench across the table. Brandi still had her arms crossed, her eyes and mouth scrunched. No trace of fear.
Renna tore her gaze back to Uncle Abel. “Can we hide in the cabin again?” The shack hidden in a crevice deep in the Spires Canyon had saved her and Brandi’s lives four years ago.
If only they were already there. Safe. Hidden.
Sheriff Allen shook his head. “Better not. There’s still too much snow and mud. Your tracks would be plain as a mule’s face leading the Blade right to you.”
No place to hide. Renna twined her cold fingers in her skirt. They were trapped in their own home.
“I’ll ask around town for a few volunteers. We can set up a guard here.” Sheriff Allen frowned as he surveyed the kitchen. “This room isn’t the most secure, but it’s the best this manor has. I suggest all of you sleep in here at night where you can bar the doors. That window’s too small for anyone to climb through.”
Little good it’d do. Renna scrubbed her fingers together. A few untrained men from town and a locked door weren’t going to stop a Blade.
Uncle Abel nodded and motioned to Renna and Brandi. “Go fetch a few of your things. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Brandi jumped to her feet and darted from the room, but Renna eased to the door. As she left, Uncle Abel lowered his voice. “I’m going to need a message sent to Uster, and from there to Walden.”
The door closed behind her, cutting off the sheriff’s answer. Renna hesitated in the corridor. Walden? Shadrach Alistair’s town? Why would Uncle Abel want to send a message there?
She rubbed her arms. Would Uncle Abel send them away to be safe? Or was he asking for help to be sent here? Would Shadrach come to Stetterly when he heard she was in danger?
A pair of dark brown eyes under a mop of tousled hair flashed through her memory. She’d once fancied herself in love with Shadrach, Lord Henry Alistair’s oldest son.
But that was nonsense. He’d been sixteen years old, too old to notice his sister’s scrawny, freckled, thirteen-year-old friend.
She shook the thoughts from her head. It didn’t matter even if Shadrach did come. She didn’t dare court anyone, much less think about marriage. It’d only get her killed faster.
As she tiptoed down the hall, the corridor leading to the rest of the manor yawned to her right, opposite her door. A flicker in the darkness caught her eye.
A man dressed all in black leaned against the corner. He twisted a knife in his hands, as if inspecting the blade for flaws and finding none. When he lifted his gaze to hers, his pale blue eyes gleamed. A smile broke through the stubble shadowing his chin.
Her throat clogged. She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t move.
A door burst open. Brandi skipped through.
Brandi. She couldn’t let the Blade harm Brandi. Renna grabbed her sister’s arm and dashed down the corridor. Brandi stumble
d and started running to stay on her feet. “Renna, what—”
Renna reached for the latch, but the door swung open, knocking into her hand. She plowed into Uncle Abel while Brandi tripped into Sheriff Allen.
Uncle Abel gripped her shoulders. “Renna, what happened?”
She glanced over her shoulder. The corridor was empty. When she turned, Uncle Abel’s soft, blue eyes searched her face, their depths warm. So different than the blue eyes she’d seen a moment ago.
She pointed down the corridor. “I saw a Blade. Just standing there. He…he isn’t there now.”
Brandi gaped at the corridor. She leaned forward and whispered, “Was it Leith?”
Renna shook her head. “No.”
An image of those light blue eyes slammed into her, but this time they stared at her over her mother’s body, blood dripping from the Blade’s knife in time with the stream from her mother’s throat. “It was the Blade that killed Mother.”
The Second Blade killed your father, the First Blade your mother. That’s what the Blade Leith Torren had told her the night she’d asked.
The First Blade. He was here. Waiting to kill her and Brandi like he’d killed their mother. This time, they had nowhere to run and no one to protect them.
Uncle Abel hurried the two of them into the kitchen while Sherriff Allen shut and barred the door. Aunt Mara hugged Brandi and glanced between them, her forehead furrowing.
Uncle Abel jabbed a finger at Sheriff Allen. “I want that message sent. Now.”
Sheriff Allen nodded and reached for his cloak. “I’ll send it right away.”
“And tell everyone that church services will be canceled Sunday.” Uncle Abel leaned a hand against the fireplace, lines dragging around his mouth and eyes.
“Why?” Renna grasped the whiff of heat tightening her spine. “Why now? What’s different this time?”
“The Third Blade never gave us cause to treat him as anything but a guest. He seemed genuinely interested in the truth. It would’ve been wrong to hide it from him.” Uncle Abel pinched the bridge of his nose. “But there’s a time to take a stand, and a time to exercise caution.”
“How do you know this is a time for caution and last time wasn’t?” She couldn’t understand Uncle Abel’s logic. They’d had a Blade living in the manor, and he hadn’t canceled services. But now she merely glimpsed a Blade and he panicked?
Uncle Abel crossed the room and rested his hands on her shoulders. “When Leith Torren was here, I never saw terror on your face like I did just now. And that’s how I know this time is different.”
His words settled in her chest. With the Third Blade, she hadn’t been terrified he’d hurt her. Yes, she’d worried about the danger he’d pose after he left, but nothing more.
But this Blade…he wanted to hurt her.
15
Leith glanced at the orange stain of sunrise in the southeast. Was Renna all right? Had the First Blade bothered her?
Of course the First Blade had bothered her. He thrived on the thrill of the hunt. Since he couldn’t kill her yet, he’d terrify her.
And Leith could do nothing to stop him.
“Third Blade?” A tiny voice tugged at him.
Leith shook himself and glanced down at the six boys, ages seven through thirteen, standing in front of him. He and the trainees gathered on the strip of muddy grass between the base of the Blades’ Tower and the outer wall where the servants and trainees lived.
Nineteenth Blade Altin stood a few feet away, as if to pretend he wasn’t there to train like one of the boys.
“Are we going to learn to throw knives today?” One of the boys leaned closer, his small hands closing around the knife he had stuffed in his belt.
Leith shook his head. “Only a few of the Blades can throw knives accurately. There are more important skills that need to be learned first.”
He studied their faces. They looked too eager about fighting and killing. Only the thirteen-year-old shifted uncomfortably. Once it hadn’t bothered Leith to teach the trainees. He’d told himself he was teaching them to survive. Instead, he’d taught them to kill.
Straightening his spine, Leith wiped his weakness from his face. He couldn’t let these boys see any of his regrets. They were too apt to blurt out things they’d been told or observed.
Leith pulled out a canvas bag and dumped the contents onto the grass. Several beat up and bent knives clanked onto the ground. The boys shoved each other as they crowded closer.
He picked up two of the knives. “Today I’m going to show you how to climb a wall using a pair of knives to act as handholds. A few of you have done this before, but the review and practice never hurts. Nineteenth Blade, please demonstrate.”
Altin picked up two of the knives and approached the Tower wall. After examining the wall, he jabbed a knife into the crack between two stones where the mortar was already crumbling.
Holding himself against the wall, Altin wedged his toes into gaps between the stones, boosted himself higher, and jammed the other knife into a crack above his head.
Leith scratched his chin. Altin had decent technique. His form could be improved by keeping his body straighter and closer to the wall, but overall an adequate demonstration.
Leith waved at the trainees. “Any questions?” When the boys shook their head, he pointed to the pile of knives. “Go ahead and try it. Climb to the base of that arrow slit and back down.” He pointed at an arrow slit one story from the ground.
The boys scrambled to pick out their knives and find places along the wall. The thirteen-year-old scrabbled up first, the younger boys trailing behind him. But this wasn’t a race. Leith wasn’t going to use the same methods King Respen used on him.
Altin dropped to the ground, panting from his climb to the window and back. “May I ask you something, Third Blade?”
The fear in his voice hurt. “Sure.”
“Who taught you?”
Leith rubbed his knuckles. The rain-lashed stones had scraped his fingers that night as his hunger twisted his stomach. “I had to learn fast.”
Altin still eyed him. Leith craned his neck to keep an eye on the younger boys. “It was just Harrison Vane and I back then. The king was still lord of Blathe. He took us outside one night in the middle of a rainstorm and told us to climb to the top of the south tower and back. Last one down lost his supper.”
“Who won?”
Leith glanced away from the boys on the wall long enough to see the curiosity sparking in Altin’s light brown eyes. “I did.”
The victory had been short lived, though. Vane gave him a beating and stole his food anyways.
Footsteps scuttled across the wooden bridge behind him. A tenor voice coughed. “Third Blade Torren?”
Leith raised his eyebrows at the king’s clerk rocking on his toes in the middle of the bridge. “Yes?”
“I…” The man cleared his throat again. “His Majesty would like to speak with you in his chambers.” Another cough as the man cringed. “Immediately.”
Why did the king wish to speak with him? A dozen reasons flooded through his head, none of them good. Had the king learned of his deception? Had the First Blade returned from Stetterly already?
Leith touched the knives strapped across his chest. “Tell him I’m on my way.”
The clerk bobbed and scurried back the way he’d come as fast as his thin legs could carry him. Leith waited for a few more heartbeats before he turned to Altin. “Can you take over?”
Altin nodded. He’d been a trainee with a few of them. He wouldn’t stand there and let them fall if they made a mistake.
Leith strolled across the bridge and crossed the passageway, his heart pounding even before he started up the stairs to King Respen’s chambers. No Blade besides Vane reported directly to the king.
At the top of the stairs, Leith halted and knocked on the thick oak door. King Respen's voice called, “Enter.”
Leith lifted the latch and stepped into the room, closing the door
behind him. Burgundy rugs sprawled across the floor while dark wood paneling covered the walls.
King Respen stood in front of a window overlooking the cobblestone courtyard, his desk beside him.
Crossing the room, Leith knelt on the rug in front of King Respen and thumped his fist across his chest. “My king.”
“You have always been loyal to me, haven't you, my Third Blade?” King Respen clasped his hands behind his back and faced the window.
Leith struggled to keep his breathing even. Why was he questioning Leith's loyalty? “Yes, my king.”
“And what is your opinion of the First Blade’s loyalty?” King Respen didn't turn around.
Dangerous ground. Leith swallowed. What answer did King Respen want to hear? “The First Blade likes power, and he likes having it over others.”
King Respen turned around then and tapped his fingers on the windowsill. “Has he ever wanted the power I have?”
“Not that I know of.” When had King Respen become suspicious of Vane? “Vane has no desire to be king.”
“No, but he might want a longer chain.” King Respen's fingers stopped tapping the windowsill. “But you have no ambitions, do you?”
Leith didn't want a longer chain; he wanted no chain at all. But he couldn't let King Respen see that thought in his eyes. “I want no rank beyond what I’ve been given.”
“Very good. Return to the Tower.”
“Yes, my king.” Leith pressed his fist to his chest one last time and hurried from the room.
If King Respen suspected Harrison Vane, his right-hand Blade, of disloyalty, then how long would it be before he also suspected Leith?
16
The kitchen door thumped with a knock. Renna jumped and dropped her spoon in her oatmeal. Drops splashed the back of her hand. On the mattress across the room, Brandi still snored and drooled on her pillow.
Uncle Abel leapt to his feet so fast his knees bashed the table. He reached for the dagger he’d taken to carrying around.
Renna couldn’t help but stare at it. Her father’s dagger. The same one her father had carried the night he’d died. It had remained in a trunk with the rest of her father’s weapons for the past four years, and she wasn’t sure what Uncle Abel planned to do with it now. If her father, trained warrior that he was, couldn’t fight off the Blades, then Uncle Abel didn’t stand a chance.
Dare (The Blades of Acktar Book 1) Page 9