After peeking out the window, he opened the door. Sheriff Allen brushed past Uncle Abel and shoved the door closed. “The messenger didn’t get through. His body was left on my doorstep this morning.”
Renna clapped her hands over her mouth. The Blade had killed the messenger her uncle sent to Uster. Was it a warning? Was she next?
Uncle Abel sagged against the wall. “And the message?”
“Gone.” Sheriff Allen scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was in code. He might not guess how to translate it.”
“Maybe.” Uncle Abel rested a hand on the fireplace mantle. “So no help is coming from Uster or Walden.”
Renna’s heart pounded. “What are we going to do?”
Aunt Mara rubbed her hand along Uncle Abel’s arm. “We’ll have to head for the cabin now. Perhaps if we’re careful, we won’t leave too many tracks.”
Sheriff Allen scratched at the brown stubble across his chin and cheeks. “At this point, I think that’s your best option. I’ll patrol the manor tonight as if I’m still guarding you. Hopefully the Blade will be too busy watching me to follow you.”
Renna glanced at her sister’s sleeping form curled into a ball under her blankets. And if the Blade did follow them? What would happen to them then?
Renna clasped her cloak around her shoulders and slipped her bag across her shoulders. The leather satchel hung next to her hip, filled with a few pieces of clothing, medical supplies, and her hairbrush.
Aunt Mara handed her a leather sack. Renna heaved it across her shoulders, the weight settling onto her back. Uncle Abel handed Brandi a smaller bag. Brandi grinned and slung it over her shoulder. “Think we have enough food?”
Uncle Abel picked up a third, larger sack. “We should. Unless you eat too much.”
Brandi pressed both hands over her mouth, but a tiny giggle slipped out. Renna glanced towards the window. Was the Blade out there now? Had he heard?
In the distance, a glow marked the single lamp kept burning in the center of town. Would the town be all right without their healer and their minister?
Aunt Mara caught Renna’s gaze, stepped towards her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re our first duty.”
As they’d been that night four years ago. Could Aunt Mara have saved any of the men that died that night had she been there? What had Renna and Brandi’s safety cost back then? What would it cost now?
Aunt Mara nodded to Uncle Abel. Waving them forward, Uncle Abel led them into the night. The ground crinkled beneath Renna’s boots, her breath misting in the starlight. She followed Uncle Abel’s footsteps as closely as she could to avoid the slushy piles of snow.
Brandi’s footsteps crunched behind her, Aunt Mara trailing her. The hills rolled into the blue night. The cold stung Renna’s nose. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes when the breeze whipped across her face.
The darkness prowled around them, its breath cold and dank with snow. Renna’s skin prickled. Was the Blade hunting them? Did he lurk out there?
Her toes numbed by the time they reached the edge of the Spires Canyon. Uncle Abel led the way down a thin path. Pines brushed against her cloak and face.
She shoved a branch out of her way and ducked. Brandi spluttered, and Renna winced. She’d snapped the branch into her sister’s face.
As they hiked deeper into the canyon, the waning moon crested the treetops above them, brushing the pine needles with silver. Mist drifted across the Ondieda River at the bottom of the canyon.
Too much like another night when they’d dashed down the path, Aunt Mara shushing Renna’s tears, Uncle Abel carrying Brandi, the sounds of bloodshed ringing behind them.
Uncle Abel reached the bottom and turned towards them. Renna halted beside him, wiggling her toes inside her boots. Brandi skidded down the last few feet of trail while Aunt Mara eased down the incline, gasping for breath.
Renna steadied Aunt Mara’s elbow. Would she be all right? Aunt Mara was four years older than the last time she’d done this hike.
After Aunt Mara caught her breath, Uncle Abel helped her over the rocks as they hiked north up the canyon. Renna stumbled over the rocks, but Brandi scrambled up them like Ginger their goat.
The path led into the darkness below the pine trees and the grotesque spires of rock pointing at the sky. Renna tightened her grip on her cloak, but the wool couldn’t stop her shivers.
Uncle Abel shoved through a screen of pines and held the branches for Aunt Mara. Brandi bounced forward to hold the branches while Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara eased through a crack in the rocks.
Renna tiptoed after them. After a few yards, the rocks opened into a small clearing set against the canyon wall. The cabin tucked under a shelf in the cliff, hiding it from above. Spruce and white pines clustered around the edge of the clearing, the needles glowing in the moonlight.
Renna misted a breath into the air. This place felt like safety. Like warmth and solid walls and healing.
Brandi skipped toward the cabin. Aunt Mara and Uncle Abel strolled through the tall grass, so close together than Renna only caught a glimpse of their clasped hands. She stepped forward to join them.
Something cold and sharp pressed against her neck. She stiffened. A body radiated heat behind her. Chills spiked into her toes. The Blade had returned to kill her.
“I will enjoy killing you.” The tenor crawled down her spine like a hairy spider creeping along her skin.
A hand on her shoulder turned her around. She faced a pair of light blue eyes, flat, almost dead in their depths, set in a slim face. The Blade’s light brown hair waved down to his collar, highlighted with moonlight.
His mouth twisted in a thin smile. “You thought I wouldn’t know this place? That I wouldn’t track it down after you disappeared here last time?”
Her breath caught. She was going to die. They’d tried to run, but they’d failed. Now the Blade would kill her. She shook so violently only the Blade’s hand on her arm and knife under her chin kept her standing.
After she was dead, would he go after Brandi? Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara? Unlike last time, there were no guards to jump between them. No one to intervene.
She opened her mouth but couldn’t gather enough air to scream a warning.
She didn’t want to die. Didn’t want to drop to the ground in a pool of her own blood. Like her father. Like her mother. Like the rest of her family killed by the Blades. Perhaps she should beg God for rescue, but He’d remained silent four years ago. And He was silent now.
The Blade’s smile slicked across his face. The steel of his knife brushed down one side of her neck and up the other as if searching for the place it wanted to bite.
If only she could find the words to pray, the breath to scream.
He let her go. She collapsed to the ground, her palms sinking into the snow. By the time she glanced up, the Blade had disappeared into the darkness.
“Renna?” Uncle Abel’s voice hissed across the clearing. His running footsteps crunched the snow. He knelt next to her, one hand on her shoulder, the other gripping his knife. “What is it? What happened?”
“He was here.” She forced the words through her chattering teeth. Why wasn’t she dead? Surely it wasn’t mercy that stayed the Blade’s hand. Then what? Why did he want to prolong her death like this?
But one thing was certain. When the Blade wanted to kill her, she would die.
17
Her eyes gritty, Renna trudged into Stetterly Manor’s kitchen. She slumped onto a bench next to the table.
Brandi plopped onto the bench next to her and leaned her forehead on her arms. Aunt Mara bustled to light the fire while Uncle Abel leaned his arm against the mantle.
“What are we going to do now?” Renna glanced at Aunt Mara and Uncle Abel. The sag to their shoulders told her their answer. They’d run out of options.
Aunt Mara met Uncle Abel’s gaze. “Do you think we could get to Uster?”
He shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his short, g
rey hair. “It’s a three day ride with no shelter. If the Blade could track us to the cabin, he could track us there.”
Boots stomped on the front step, and Sheriff Allen burst into the kitchen. “What are you doing back here? I thought you’d be safe in the cabin by now.”
Uncle Abel rubbed his palm along the mantle. “The First Blade tracked us there. He threatened Renna.”
Sheriff Allen’s eyebrows rose. “And he didn’t kill her?”
Renna shivered. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the Blade’s knife caressing her throat, his breath hot on the back of her neck.
“No, and we don’t know why.” Uncle Abel turned to Sheriff Allen. “We need to try to send a message to Walden again.”
Sheriff Allen massaged the back of his neck. “I’ll go myself. I don’t think I’ll get another volunteer. I’ll leave tonight.”
Renna wrapped her arms over her stomach. Bowing her head, she blinked at the tears heating her eyes. Her mother had fought back against the First Blade. She’d sacrificed herself to buy Renna and Brandi enough time to escape.
If Renna were braver—if she were like her mother—she’d ride to Uster herself. She wouldn’t ask anyone else to take the danger meant for her.
But she wasn’t brave. She wasn’t her mother.
The door to the common room creaked open. As Leith glanced up from oiling his knife, Vane strolled in, his lips curled.
Leith fought the urge to jump to his feet and interrogate Vane. What had the First Blade done to Renna and Brandi? Had he hurt them? Leith’s chest tightened.
Vane strode towards the stairs. As he passed the bench where Leith sat, Leith leaned forward as casually as he could manage. “Learn anything?”
Halting, Vane’s smile widened while his pale, blue eyes sparked with the candlelight. “A few things. It’s a pity you never met the lady Rennelda while you were in Stetterly. She’s quite the charming girl.”
Leith’s fingers clenched around his knife’s hilt. If Vane had hurt Renna, he would…
What would he do? What could he do? He couldn’t prevent Vane from hurting Renna anymore than he could prevent King Respen from ordering Renna killed.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, a pity.” Even to him the words sounded strained.
Vane eyed him for a moment longer before he turned away and headed up the stairs.
“You all right?” Martyn’s elbow nudged him.
Leith turned to Martyn. Martyn’s curls, damp from washing off the trail dust when he’d returned a few hours ago, flopped against his forehead. Leith gave him what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “I’m fine. Why?”
“You’re just acting…strange.” Martyn’s brown eyes twitched back and forth as he searched Leith’s face. Could he read the secrets Leith hid? Leith tried to hold Martyn’s gaze, but he couldn’t.
He stood and gathered his knives. “It’s late, and I don’t want to be too tired at the Meeting tomorrow.” Did that sound as off to Martyn as it did to him?
Martyn nodded and turned back to his work, but his eyebrows remained scrunched.
Leith pressed his hands against his knees to stop his legs from bouncing.
The First Blade knelt in front of the king and saluted. “My king, I completed my mission of spying on Stetterly Manor. I discovered that they have been very disobedient to your laws, my lord.”
King Respen stroked his pointed beard. A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Vane pulled two books from a leather bag and set them on the table in front of King Respen. The black cover of one flaked onto the table. Leith had held that book. Lachlan’s Bible.
Leith jumped and gripped the edge of his chair. Martyn raised his eyebrows at Leith. Leith forced himself to relax against the back of his chair.
Vane traced the brown cover of the second book with his index finger. “These Bibles were hidden in the rooms of Abel and Mara Lachlan and Lady Rennelda Faythe.”
Renna’s Bible. Leith clenched his fists under the table. Vane had been in Renna’s bedchamber.
“Besides these Bibles, they host an illegal church each Sunday. Abel Lachlan is the minister.” Vane placed a slip of paper on top of Lachlan’s Bible.
Leith peered at the note. He could make out numbers, but no words. An untranslated message?
Vane’s smile grew. “I intercepted a messenger. After some…persuasion, he told me he’d been sent to Walden by Stetterly’s sheriff. The message is in a code the messenger didn’t know how to translate.”
King Respen tapped his fingers on the note. “Perhaps.”
Leith fought to keep his shoulders from curling in defeat. He’d tried to protect them. He could’ve told King Respen all this information a month ago. He could translate the note that now lay under the king’s fingertips. He’d hidden all of that.
But it wasn’t enough.
“You have done well, my First Blade.” King Respen held up his knife as Vane bared his right arm. The king swiped the knife across Vane’s skin, drawing a line of blood at Vane’s elbow below the long rows of scars that marched down his arm. “Your fortieth successful mark. You are truly my First Blade.”
The First Blade saluted and returned to his seat. His mouth thinned into a slippery smile. A suspicion niggled the back of Leith’s mind. Vane hadn’t told everything. He’d left something out, something he’d enjoyed.
A variety of possibilities whirled through Leith’s mind, none of them good. Was Renna all right? Brandi? Their aunt and uncle?
He had to do more. Silence was not enough. He had to take some kind of action. Something to protect Renna and Brandi once and for all.
And perhaps, while he saved them, he’d taste a portion of the freedom he craved. He couldn’t be free—only death released him from the Blades—but a taste might satisfy.
“The Eleventh and Eighteenth Blades will remain here.” King Respen’s dark eyes glittered in his hard features, his beard cutting across his face and coming to a point as sharp as Leith’s knife.
The Eleventh and Eighteenth Blades saluted, though the Eleventh Blade’s eyes tipped down as if disappointed to be staying behind.
King Respen leaned forward. “But I have a special mission for the rest of you, my Blades. For the next month, you will each spy on a nobleman and his manor. I want to know the guard routine, number of guards, layout of the manor, and where each member of the family sleeps. I want you to know their life and routine better than you know your own.”
The dread in Leith’s chest curled tight, as if to choke the life from his heart. He focused on breathing evenly. Martyn’s mouth tightened into a line. The Second Blade leaned forward, hands twitching as if he longed to grab the knives that hung from his belt on the wall. A gleam flickered in Vane’s pale eyes.
King Respen tipped his head towards Vane. “First Blade Vane, you will watch Stetterly for only two weeks. I do not believe it will take longer than that to gather the necessary information. Then I would like you to return to Nalgar. I will need you here.”
Leith hunched in his chair and tried to breathe. Vane had been sent to Stetterly. Again. Even two weeks was too long. Yet what could Leith do? He was helplessly bound to follow his own orders.
“Second Blade Hess, you will go to Sierra. Lady Paula Lorraine has proven to be as troublesome as her husband. Watch her carefully.”
The Second Blade’s teeth flashed in the candlelight. “It will be my pleasure to deal with her as I dealt with Lord Lorraine.”
“Third Blade Torren.”
Leith tensed. Where would he be sent? If not Stetterly, then where?
King Respen tapped the coded message. “Your target is Walden. Lord Alistair grows bold in organizing rebellion against me.”
Leith bowed his head and pressed his fist over his heart. “Yes, my king.”
Something stirred in his chest. Hope? A chance? Henry Alistair, lord of Walden, was rumored to be a leader of the Resistance, if not the leader. Leith might be helpless to stop Vane and King
Respen from killing Renna and Brandi, but Lord Alistair wasn’t.
18
Leith crouched on a window seat in a small alcove. Curtains separated him from the main room. The brick wall next to the window pressed against his back.
A shaft of light cut through the gap in the curtains. From inside the room, he could hear a pen scratching at a piece of paper.
Peeking through the gap, Leith spotted Lord Alistair bent over a ledger. His gray-streaked, brown hair was falling out of his queue while his hands moved the pen efficiently over the page. A thick, neatly trimmed beard covered the lower half of his face.
His broad shoulders and wide chest pressed against his dark blue shirt, but even from his hiding place Leith could see muscle, not fat, rippling beneath the fabric.
With a soft snick, a lady entered the room. Her long, brown hair flowed down her back to her waist, a sharp contrast with her red gown, flounces trailing down her sleeves and skirt.
Leith studied the lines of gold embroidery shimmering in the candlelight. Lord Alistair might be rebelling against King Respen, but he wasn’t living in poverty if his wife could dress like that.
Lady Alistair glided across the room and rested her hands on Lord Alistair’s shoulders. “The girls are waiting to be tucked in.”
Lord Alistair drew her hand over his shoulder and kissed her fingers. Leith shifted and stared at the floor for a moment.
“Is it that late already?” Lord Alistair squeezed his wife’s hand. “Tell them I’ll be there in a minute. Is Jeremiah still up studying?”
Lady Alistair’s hair slipped over her shoulders as she kissed Lord Alistair’s cheek. “Of course. You might have to remind him to get some sleep when you say goodnight to the girls.”
Dare (The Blades of Acktar Book 1) Page 10