Dare (The Blades of Acktar Book 1)

by Tricia Mingerink

  35

  Rain splattered Renna’s window and drooled down the manor’s stone exterior. A lousy day for a party. A gust peppered the panes with raindrops, sounding like a handful of pebbles rattling the glass.

  Was Leith out there in this? He’d disappeared last night, and she could only guess he’d resumed his role as the Third Blade. She rubbed at her chest where a dull ache had formed. Did she miss Leith? A strange thought, but what else could explain it? Perhaps the gloom outside clouded her thinking.

  A loud stomping and jabber of voices drifted up the staircase and through her open door. Renna touched her braid and smoothed her skirt. Time to face the guests. She trudged from her room and peered over the railing.

  In the entry, Lady Alistair hugged Lady Paula Lorraine. Lady Lorraine’s straight, blond hair hung down her back, contrasted against the dark blue of her cloak and dress. Faint lines weaved around her eyes and roughened her hands, but her hair remained free of gray. Although Lady Alistair stood a half a foot taller than her, Lady Lorraine’s back remained straight, her head held high, in a manner that made her appear taller than she was.

  Next to her, Shad helped Jolene Lorraine remove her dripping, green cloak. Her blonde hair and lithe form mirrored her mother. Lydia greeted both of them, smiling.

  Renna sank to her knees. Shad’s rich, brown eyes focused on Jolene, a smile toying with his mouth. His hands flapped at his sides, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

  At least he’d been honest with her. She couldn’t fault him for her clinging to childhood fantasies for too long.

  Gathering her last shards of courage, she tiptoed down the stairs and stood next to the newel post. After several minutes, Lady Alistair turned. “Oh, Rennelda, there you are. Lady Paula Lorraine and her daughter Jolene have arrived.”

  Renna bobbed a curtsy as Lady Lorraine swept forward. Renna blinked. Even she stood a few inches taller than Lady Lorraine. Lady Lorraine grasped her shoulders. “Rennelda, it’s wonderful to see you again. I’m sure you remember Jolene?”

  Jolene glided forward and smiled. “Hello, Renna.” Behind her, Shad rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back.

  Renna swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a smile. Her mother would’ve expected her to be gracious. No reason to treat Jolene badly on account of her own misplaced feelings. “You look soaked. Would you like to head to my room to change into something dry? I don’t have much, but I’m sure Lydia can find something that might fit.”

  Shad’s shoulders relaxed, and he gave Renna a slow nod over Jolene’s head. The stiffness in Renna’s chest vanished. A genuine smile eased onto her face.

  Jolene picked at her skirt, water droplets flinging into the air. “I’d appreciate it. Even the dresses in my pack are soaked.”

  Renna led the way upstairs while Lydia turned to the next group of guests stumbling in from the rain. Inside Renna’s room, Jolene finger-combed her hair. “Do you have a brush I can borrow? I forgot mine.”

  “Sure.” As Renna turned to fetch her brush, she caught sight of the silver cross dangling from a chain around Jolene’s neck. Renna didn’t have to ask to know her mother had given it to Jolene, just like she’d given one to Lydia.

  After handing the brush to Jolene, Renna opened her jewelry box and dug her own silver cross from the bottom where she’d shoved it four years ago. Her fingers trembled, and she struggled to work the clasp.

  “Renna?”

  Renna turned. Jolene touched her silver cross. “I know what it’s like. My father was killed just before my sixteenth birthday.”

  When Renna met her gaze, she could see her own ache mirrored there.

  She touched the cross resting against her bodice. Do not be afraid. Only believe. That was her mother’s favorite verse, and the one she’d repeated when she’d given the cross to Renna. Her mother had always acted like faith was that simple. Don’t fear. Just believe. Trust and take courage.

  As Renna picked out a dress for Jolene, and they fixed each other’s hair, Renna grasped at the laughter warming her chest and tingling in her fingers. For so long, she’d clutched that one faint hope because she hadn’t dared dream for anything else.

  But now? Did she have the courage to look for a future?

  The mud squelched through Leith’s shirt and slicked along his chest. Water squished through his toes in his boots.

  His cloak and hood had shielded him from the rain initially, but even the lanoline in the unwashed wool failed to completely shed the rain and now made his cloak smell like he’d been wrapped in wet sheep.

  The rain heightened the rancid stench of unwashed body wafting from several of the Blades sprawled in the grass along the hill with him. At least the rain provided the first bath they’d had since starting their missions a month ago.

  Throughout the morning, seven of the Blades had joined him and Vane on the hill overlooking Walden. The Second Blade had been the first to arrive. He lay a few feet away to Leith's right.

  Another group of riders approached Walden from the southeast, their faces shielded by the hoods of their cloaks. Leith pulled his cloak tighter around his neck. As the riders dismounted, Martyn nodded at the Second Blade and plopped into the mud beside Leith. “Hey.”

  “Finally came to join the crowd?” Leith had to force the teasing tone into his voice. Would Martyn notice anything different about him?

  Martyn glanced at the other Blades lying in the mud and grass. “I thought only a few guests had been invited to this gathering. But I see I was wrong. What’s Lord Alistair up to?”

  Leith shrugged as cluelessly as he could. “Don’t know. As far as I could tell, he planned a celebration for his daughter.”

  Martyn dragged a hand through his hair, causing the blond curls to stick out in odd directions. “Well, something’s up. That’s plain to see.”

  Vane appeared in the grass between Leith and the Second Blade. Even in the mud, Vane hadn’t made any sound loud enough to hear over the drumming rain.

  The Second Blade waved a finger towards the manor. “They’ll be huddled inside. Nothing for us to see up here. It might be better to post a watch here and let the rest of us get out of this rain.”

  Vane’s mouth curled, as if he considered the suggestion weak. But he nodded. “Very well. Assign a two-man watch. Rotate every hour.”

  The Second Blade pointed at the Fourth and Thirteenth Blades. “Keep watch. The rest of us will head into the Hills to find shelter. Torren, you were stationed here. Any good spots?”

  “There’s a hollow not far into the foothills north of here.” Leith shoved himself to his elbows, mud slicking his shirt to his chest. What he wouldn’t give to be dry and warm in Walden Manor.

  “All right. Meet there.” The Second Blade snapped his fingers at the other Blades.

  One by one, the Blades slid down the hill and wandered towards wherever they’d left their horses.

  Leith wiggled below the crest of the hill. Mud squooshed between his fingers as he shoved himself to his feet. Cold water sloshed inside his boots.

  After hiking through the knee-high, wet grass, he reached the hollow. As the other Blades arrived, they constructed makeshift shelters of pine branches, gathered the semi-dry deadfalls sheltered by spruce trees or the lee of the cliffs. Martyn coaxed a flame from the damp wood.

  Leith checked on the horses in a nearby meadow bounded by trees and rocky outcrops. Blizzard munched on the rain-soaked grass, his mane slicked to his neck, water clumping the hair along his back.

  More Blades straggled in until all of the Blades, except the two left at Nalgar Castle and the two on watch, huddled in the hollow. They perched on rocks and fallen logs like large, silent crows. Leith’s skin prickled.

  Vane glided to his feet. “Lord Alistair has called half the nobles to Walden. He claims he’s hosting a celebration for his daughter.”

  “Obviously a diversion for his real plan.” The Second Blade scratched at his pointed chin. �
�All of them are known to be a part of the Resistance or potential allies should the Resistance prove it can succeed.”

  “But why did he call only the nobles we’re following?” The Fourth Blade crossed his arms.

  Leith’s stomach clenched. Of course they’d noticed that coincidence. He didn’t speak for fear of drawing attention to himself.

  “We’re following the ones that’re the most likely to cause trouble.” Martyn shrugged. “I guess this confirms that the king’s suspicions were correct.”

  No one argued. The Second Blade tapped his mouth with his thumb. “I find it suspicious that Lord Alistair brought Lady Rennelda to Walden a few weeks ago and immediately gathered these nobles to Walden.”

  “Should we send someone to Nalgar to inform the king?” The Twelfth Blade leaned forward, as if eager to volunteer.

  “Our orders are to watch.” Vane rested his hand on his knife. “Torren and I will sneak into Walden. The rest of you will stay here.”

  The Twelfth Blade scowled, and the Fourth Blade crossed his arms. But the Second Blade nodded and glared at the other Blades. “Too many of us will attract attention.”

  Leith met Vane’s eyes. “I can get us into the manor where we can spy on the party.”

  In the distance, a pack of coyotes yipped their hunting call. A wild light pranced in Vane’s pale eyes. His thin smile revealed a row of white teeth stained red with firelight. “Excellent.”

  36

  Renna stabbed at the steak on her plate. A few seats away from her at the head of the table, Lord Alistair chuckled at something Lord Spencer said. How could he pretend to be so carefree when he knew he’d be calling a meeting to discuss resistance to King Respen as soon as supper finished?

  The chatter in the crowded dining room increased as more of the guests finished eating and began talking. Renna’s skin heated with the warmth of so many bodies packed into the windowless room.

  Lord Alistair stood and clinked his fork against his glass. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate my daughter Lydia’s sixteenth birthday.”

  Lydia ducked her head, her cheeks beaming red, her brown eyes dancing.

  “There will be desserts and further festivities in the parlor. I would like, however, the heads of all of the noble families to remain here for a while longer.”

  Lady Alistair rose to her feet. “Please follow me.”

  The room emptied as the sons, daughters, and wives that had come for the celebration headed for the parlor until only eighteen nobles remained.

  Shadrach was the last to leave. As he closed the door, he nodded at Lord Alistair and his hand reached for his sword’s hilt. Renna didn’t have to be told that he’d be standing outside the door, protecting this meeting from Blades.

  Renna squirmed in her seat, a rush of cool air shivering the hair on her arms. She was the youngest lady present, though Lady Amber Dawson of Hender was only two years older having inherited her title three years ago when her parents had been killed by Blades. Lord Philip Creston of Arroway was a year younger. His parents had died at the castle the night King Respen and the Blades took over.

  One of the lords seated about halfway down the table slapped his pudgy hand on the wood so loudly that Renna squeaked. “What is this all about, Henry? I hope it’s important enough to drag me all the way from Calloday. I had to ride four whole days to get here.”

  Renna imagined the sarcastic eye-rolling Brandi would give that statement. The two of them had ridden six days, and they weren’t complaining about it.

  In a patient tone, Lord Alistair nodded in the lord’s direction. “Lord Doughtry, I understand that many of you have come a long way on nothing more than my word that it’d be worth your while.”

  He paused and leaned forward. Many of the others around the table straightened in their seats. “I’ve heard from a reliable source at Nalgar Castle that King Respen plans to assassinate all of us sitting in this room in the next few weeks, possibly as soon as next week.”

  The gasps of shock drowned anything else Lord Alistair might’ve said. Renna hunched in her seat as several of the lords pounded their fists on the table. Lady Dawson swayed her in chair, perhaps terrified at the news that a Blade was hunting her as her parents had once been hunted.

  “That is absurd!” Lord Doughtry’s cheeks jiggled with the force of his words. “King Respen wouldn’t send a Blade against me. I’ve never done anything against him.”

  Lord Alistair’s gaze turned icy. “I know. The church in Calloday has suffered without your protection.”

  “I’m still a Christian. I just don’t believe in sticking my neck out where it can be hurt.” Lord Doughtry attempted to cross his arms over his bulbous stomach, but he only managed to tuck his hands against his chest.

  “Perhaps King Respen has decided to kill all of the Christian nobles at once instead of one at a time.” Lord Spencer frowned and rubbed the balding patch on the top of his head.

  Lord Segon shook his head. “That can’t be Respen’s only reason. You all know my particular beliefs don’t match yours.”

  “Beliefs we’ve debated over the years.” The corner of Lord Alistair’s mouth quirked upward.

  Lord Segon tilted his head in Lord Alistair’s direction. “And I look forward to many more such debates. If Respen has decided to kill us, then he must see us as some kind of threat, whether it’s because we’re actively a part of the Resistance, a Christian, or simply someone who has tried to remain neutral.”

  “King Respen knows I’m not a threat to him!” Lord Doughtry pounded the table, the motion sending a wave through the fat stretching his doublet. “It’s preposterous!”

  “I agree!” Another lord shouted, and the lord sitting beside him shouted back. Around the table, other lords yelled at each other. A few stood up, their fists clenched as if to punch each other. Was a brawl about to break out in the room?

  Lady Paula Lorraine gracefully rose to her feet. She tapped her water glass with the gold ring on her finger. The sound pinged through the room. The lords froze. She glared at them down her long, straight nose. “Really, ladies and gentlemen. Surely we can behave with more decorum than that.”

  A few of the lords shifted guiltily while some of the ladies blushed. Lord Doughtry harrumphed and folded his hands on his ample belly.

  Regaining her seat, Lady Lorraine faced Lord Alistair. “Henry, I mean no disrespect to you, but I believe we would like to know if this information can be trusted. It does seem to be a drastic measure.”

  Lord Alistair stroked his beard. “I understand your concern. If I didn’t know the source of my information, I’d question it as well. In fact, I did question it until my source proved himself.”

  Renna sat up straighter. She hadn’t heard Lord Alistair declare Leith trustworthy before. What had changed his mind?

  “Well, what is this source?” Lord Doughtry’s scowl traced lines through his drooping jowls.

  “One of the Blades has joined the Resistance. More than that, I cannot say.”

  As she’d expected, the chaotic pounding, yelling, and demanding explanations burst around the room once again.

  Renna squeezed her hands together. She was the only one here besides Lord Alistair who’d met Leith. Should she stand up and back Lord Alistair? Her fingers trembled.

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her fingers against the soft velvet of the royal blue dress Lydia had given her. Did she believe Leith was trustworthy? He was better than the First Blade, but he was still a Blade.

  Her fingers stilled. A Blade. That’s what she always went back to, as if his past made him incapable of change, as if she believed he was beyond hope.

  But he had changed. She’d seen the vulnerability in his green eyes when he’d promised he’d do his best to protect her from the First Blade, a promise that could get him killed.

  He was willing to die for her.

  A part of her ached like the pain of new skin growing beneath a scab. Her muscles relaxed in a way they hadn’t in
four years, as if she’d been pulled taut by the wind but now released to float on the breeze.

  When she opened her eyes, Lord Alistair's eyes questioned her. Renna’s stomach shriveled. She couldn’t stand up in front of all these people. Her words would twist on her tongue. Her knees would buckle. She couldn’t do it.

  Her father wouldn’t hesitate. He probably would’ve led the meeting. Her mother would’ve been by her father’s side, serene, but flinty. Renna had neither her father’s courage nor her mother’s steel. She touched the silver cross hanging from her neck. Do not be afraid.

  If Leith was willing to die for her, then surely she could stand up for him here. Pressing her palms to the tabletop, she wobbled to her feet. No one noticed her in the chaos.

  Lady Lorraine pinged her ring against her glass again. The arguments died.

  Renna twisted her hands in her skirt. “You all know I have as much reason to hate the Blades as any of you sitting around this table.” She drew a deep breath and took in the solemn nods. “I’ve met this Blade. He…” She didn’t know how to describe Leith. His dark, tousled hair. His green eyes. The dimples around his mouth when he smiled. “He’s trustworthy. I’ve forgiven him.”

  She sank into her chair, leaned against the back, and soaked in the cool rush washing her heart. Lord Alistair nodded at her, a silent well done.

  Lord Farthen of Keestone spoke for the first time. “We must assume this information is valid. It’d be unwise to do otherwise.”

  “Thank-you.” Lord Alistair steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “Respen assigned a Blade to each of our towns to watch us for the past month. These Blades have been learning our movements and our guard patterns so they can kill us when Respen gives the word.”

  One of the ladies at the far end of the table shifted. “I thought I felt watched.”

  Her words gained a few nods. One of the men added, “I saw a black speck on the horizon a couple of times.”

  Renna shuddered, the memory of the First Blade’s low tenor whispering in her ear. But she wasn’t about to speak again. She’d used her last shred of courage.