by Erin Beaty
She wasn’t here.
Alex tried not to panic at the possibilities multiplying in his head. “Tell me where she is, and I’ll prevent your execution.”
The duke shook his head. “You’d kill me yourself. I can see it in your eyes.”
There was no denying he was right. Alex weighed his next words carefully. The pounding on the outer door resumed and smoke clouded the room. The bottom half of the door suddenly buckled, and the duke jerked toward the bedchamber, swinging his knife hand around to Charlie’s front. Alex resisted the urge to lunge at him. “Don’t make it worse,” he said. “There’s already been enough suffering and death.”
Ice-blue eyes turned back to Alex and the arm around Charlie slackened, lowering the boy back to the floor.
D’Amiran suddenly smiled. “I disagree.”
He pulled his arms back, dragging the knife across Charlie’s throat before shoving him away.
84
THE BEDCHAMBER DOOR slammed shut as Alex dove to catch his brother before he hit the floor. Charlie’s brown eyes frantically sought his as Alex yanked the gag down and pressed it against the gaping wound. Alex held him tightly, begging the Spirit not to take him, promising anything, but he heard the sickening gurgle and knew he could do nothing. His brother’s mouth moved, trying to form words Alex couldn’t hear. The light began to fade from his eyes, and he looked almost confused. Alex had only seconds. Alex searched for something to say that would give Charlie peace, something to tell him how much he loved him, how proud he was to be his older brother. His eyes flooded as he pulled Charlie close and pressed his lips to the dirty forehead.
“I have never known a braver soldier,” he whispered.
Charlie’s back arched with one last choking, wet gasp, spraying blood and spit across Alex’s own throat. The bound hands clutching his jacket slackened as Charlie’s head rolled back, followed by a silence louder than anything Alex had ever heard.
He was gone.
With a sob Alex laid his brother down and pushed himself to his feet, fumbling for his sword. His fingers found and grasped the hilt, and he shook the tears from his eyes and bared his teeth, growling like a wild animal.
Gramwell nearly had the door open, so Alex hurdled over Charlie’s body and slammed against the bedchamber door. It gave a little, but he heard furniture being pushed across the floor against it.
Was Sage in there? He doubted it now, but the only man who knew was. And now Alex wanted blood. Needed it.
He sheathed his sword and backed away as the door behind him burst apart, scattering burning wood across the stone floor. Gramwell and the others stumbled inside, weapons drawn. The lieutenant froze at the sight of Charlie lying in a pool of blood.
Alex was already climbing out the window.
85
CASSECK WATCHED ALEX run around the top of the keep and drop a rope down the side, where it dangled next to the duke’s sitting room window. D’Amiran must be barricaded in his suite. Maybe he should send more help.
Down in the ward, things were going as planned. The sickening smell of burning flesh and hair mingled with the moans of dying men as the Stiller brothers led the effort to finish off the survivors of the barracks explosion. Tim was bleeding from an arm that dangled uselessly as he hacked and jabbed with the other. There were several bodies around Casseck, but only one was dressed in black. It was the only casualty he knew of so far, but with their few numbers, each loss was costly.
His head jerked up at the sound of four horn blasts. “Did you hear that?” he called to Porter.
The sergeant grinned back. “Sounds like the pickets are coming in.”
Casseck gestured for the soldier to take his place at the hall door as he ran toward him. “Inner gate is secure enough. You watch the hall while I let them in.”
He tore through the outer ward to the main gate, swinging his sword to slice off an arm clutching at him from the ground. Through the portcullis he saw four men running at the fortress, though not as if they were being pursued—Ash Carter leading the way. Casseck whistled to the gatehouse above, and his man began raising the heavy wood-and-metal barrier.
The four pounded across the drawbridge without waiting for the gate to be fully lifted, ducking underneath and crawling or rolling inside. Casseck signaled for the lifting to stop and pulled his friend up into an embrace. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”
Ash grinned and thumped Casseck’s back. “Looks like you’re doing just fine without us.” He turned around and pulled the smallest of his companions forward, a battered and bloody man Casseck assumed was the general’s courier. “We found someone you’ll be missing.”
Casseck’s jaw dropped. It was Sage.
She grinned up at him. “How are things going, Lieutenant? Can we help?”
“You made it,” he said, stunned.
“Did you doubt me?”
“We thought—”
She interrupted him. “Where’s Charlie? I saw him on top of the keep, but it looks like it caught fire.”
They looked back to the stone tower just in time to see Alex reach out the window and grab the rope hanging next to it. He pulled the line taut and leaned outward to run across the wall and into the other window.
Without waiting for anyone, Sage sprinted for the inner gate.
86
ALEX KICKED HIS way into the window, thankful the shutter panes were pulled open. His feet caught on the tapestries around the frame, and he tumbled head over heels into the room. He struggled to untangle his legs as the duke loomed over him. Alex rolled away, looking up just in time to raise an arm in defense. White-hot pain lanced through his left forearm as a dagger stabbed completely through it. He wrenched away, tearing the knife out of D’Amiran’s hand.
His sword came free from its scabbard and Alex swung it wildly. D’Amiran jumped back, stumbling against the heavy wardrobe he’d pushed in front of the door. A wooden trapdoor lay exposed under where the cabinet must have stood. The duke had been only seconds from escaping. He’d killed Charlie to gain time, but it hadn’t been enough.
Alex lurched to his feet as D’Amiran yanked a sword down from the wall. Alex parried the thrust like it was nothing and pushed up against the duke, bashing his face with their locked hilts before heaving him backward over the foot of the wide bed.
He stepped back as the duke rolled and tried to recover, using the furniture between them to block his advance. Without taking his eyes off his enemy, Alex reached over to his left forearm and slowly pulled the knife free, barely feeling it slide out of his flesh. Scarlet blood dripped from the blade and his leather armband as he tossed the dagger aside. There was room in his mind for only one thought.
D’Amiran stood panting in the center of the room, leaning heavily on the weapon in his hand.
“Where is she?” Alex asked with deadly calm.
The duke smiled, his teeth bloody. “Still looking, are you? Going to kill me, boy? If you do, I won’t be able to tell you about last night.” D’Amiran made an attempt to rally as he spoke, but Alex knocked the sword from his hand with his own before it could finish the weak slashing arc. The duke staggered back into a chair by the bed. Alex brought his blade to D’Amiran’s throat and held it there.
“Where is she?”
“Rather spirited, your little fowler. I had to tie her down.”
Sweet Spirit, no. Alex’s sword began to shake with rage and fear.
“Shall I tell you, boy, how she cried? How she called for you in the hopes you would hear, but by the time I was done with her she was cursing your name?” He leaned forward, coughing blood on his linen shirt. “Shall I?”
Alex forced himself not to imagine it. What mattered was where she was now.
D’Amiran laughed a little, though it took all the breath he had. “How does it feel to have the only thing you truly wanted taken from you, as your mother was taken from me?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Castella Carey was mine. P
romised to me. Your father took her. Rather fitting that I should take your little fowler, don’t you think?”
“I’m willing to bet either of them wouldn’t hesitate to cut your balls off.” Alex pressed the point of his sword against the duke’s throat and thrust him against the back of the seat. “And I may just let Sage do it. Now, where is she?”
D’Amiran smiled and lifted his hand to point at the open window. “I would’ve stopped her if I could, but she still had one burst of spirit left in her.”
The vision stunned Alex beyond his ability to function. His sword dropped from his hand, clattering on the stone floor.
“How does it feel, Captain?” D’Amiran gasped triumphantly. “How does it feel to lose?”
The knife slammed into him, piercing his heart.
“I don’t know, Your Grace,” Alex whispered in his ear. “You tell me.” He stepped back, and D’Amiran looked down at the dagger buried in his chest, focusing on the gold initials in the hilt.
“Rather … poetic.” His eyelids fluttered, and his head rolled to the side.
Alex stared at the crimson stain spreading across the dead man’s shirt. Then he turned and stumbled toward the window, a trail of blood leaking from his arm.
87
SAGE AND CASSECK raced upward through the keep, climbing over two bodies on the stairs. The door to the duke’s chamber was charred and bashed open. Inside, Gramwell and two other soldiers were kicking against the inner door. Sage stumbled into the room and tripped across something soft.
Charlie.
She threw herself down and lifted his small face in her hands. “Oh, no! No! No! No!” Sage wailed as she clutched him against her bloody shirt.
The door to the bedchamber gave, whatever blocked it groaning in protest, but she ignored it and continued to hold Charlie to her breast, rocking and crying until she felt Casseck grasp her shoulders from behind. “Sage.” She shook her head. “Sage,” he said again. “He’s gone. There’s nothing you can do.”
Finally, Sage nodded through her tears and kissed the bloody forehead before laying the boy gently back down. She raised her hand for Casseck’s help back to her feet, and he dragged her into the bedchamber.
There was blood all over the floor, some dripping from the duke, sitting lifelessly in a chair, a dagger buried in his chest. Most came from Alex, who was on his knees, bleeding from his left forearm. He stared out of the window several feet away, fighting to remain conscious.
“We have to stop the bleeding. He’s going into shock,” said Gramwell from his side. He yanked the vambrace off Alex’s lower arm and pressed his hands against two gaping wounds on either side.
Sage darted around behind them, jerking the knife out of the body on the chair, grabbing sheets from the bed, cutting and tearing them into usable pieces. She knelt in front of Alex and wrapped the cloth around his arm. The fabric quickly soaked through.
“Alex!” Gramwell released the bloody arm to Sage’s attention and shouted in the captain’s ear. He slapped Alex’s face and turned it toward him. His friend looked back with eyes that struggled to focus. “It’s over! Where are the girls? Where did you hide them?” Gramwell continued to smack his cheeks to keep him from passing out.
“Last place,” Alex mumbled, his voice slurred. “… I saw her.”
Gramwell looked down at Sage. “What does that mean?” He turned to Alex again. “Where, Alex? Where did you put the girls?”
“In the last place…” He blinked. “I saw her alive.” Gramwell sighed in frustration, releasing his face. Alex returned to gazing out of the window.
Sage looked up with sudden understanding. “The laundry sewer—go! Go!” Gramwell dashed out. She turned pleading eyes to Casseck. “Will he be all right?”
Casseck nodded reassuringly. “I’ve seen men survive much worse.” She sobbed in relief, and he reached down to take Alex’s arm so she could let go.
Sage stood on her knees in front of him and grabbed his face in her bloody hands. “Alex, I’m right here! Stay with me! I’m here!”
For a moment he focused on her; then he whispered her name and collapsed unconscious into her arms.
88
ALEX WOKE WITH the feeling of a hard cot beneath him. He shifted painfully and forced his eyes open. As he separated light from dark, he saw Casseck walking toward him to stand over his bed.
“I’m not dead?” he croaked. His mouth was completely parched.
Casseck chuckled. “No, but you gave it your best.” He pushed Alex back as he tried to rise. “Stay down. You’ve lost a lot of blood, but you’ll be fine in a couple weeks.”
Alex fell back against the pillow and closed his eyes to make the room stop spinning. “How long have I been out?”
“About twelve hours.”
Alex nodded, setting off a pounding headache. He massaged his temples between the fingers of his right hand. The left felt numb, but the arm above it ached fiercely. His right thigh also burned, though he couldn’t remember why. “Report.”
He could almost hear Casseck smile. “Everything’s under control, Captain. We have the whole fortress, though we’ll probably be able to hold only the inner walls if we’re attacked. Duke D’Amiran is dead, which you already know, as are most of his guards. His nobles are sitting pretty in the Great Hall—it’s easier to just keep them there, though we put a couple down in the dungeon. The ladies are a little traumatized, but unharmed. Our casualties are manageable: a few minor wounds, one broken arm and some broken ribs, several burns, and lots of splinters from the explosion. Tim Stiller may lose his hand. A few cases of the sickness—I suppose it was inevitable. We lost Corporal Smith and Sergeant Grassley … and…”
Alex winced with the memory. “Charlie.”
“Yes. Charlie.”
Alex was amazed by the flood that rushed to his closed eyes despite his dehydration. Charlie, who’d looked up to him in everything, who’d wanted to be a soldier like him. Charlie, who would never grow up.
Charlie he had failed to protect.
And he wasn’t the only one Alex had failed. Had they found her body yet? “And Sage,” he choked.
Soft fingers brushed his cheek. “No, Alex,” he heard her voice say. “I’m right here.” His eyes snapped open, and he turned his head toward the sound. She sat only two feet away, smiling anxiously.
A large purple bruise spread across her left cheek and a shallow cut ran along her hairline. Her lower lip was swollen and split on one side, and she had several other scrapes, but the injuries were already a day into healing.
Sweet Spirit, she was beautiful.
“Sage,” he gasped. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His words came in a desperate rush. “He hurt you, and I didn’t know until it was too late.…”
She came off the stool to her knees beside him, wiping his tears away. “Shhh. It’s all right. I think I hurt him worse. I broke his arm and stabbed him in the armpit, just like you taught me. Between all the blood and the throwing up after, though, I left your knife in him.” She smiled crookedly. “I saw you got it back, though.”
He struggled to understand her words. “What?”
Casseck cleared his throat. “She escaped, Alex. D’Amiran never had her.”
Alex sobbed and rolled toward her, reaching out with his good arm. Sage shushed and soothed him, combing her fingers through his hair, planting gentle kisses on his face. Cass excused himself and left them alone.
“Sage,” he whispered, “I—” but she put a finger to his lips.
“My turn.” Her gray eyes glistened with tears. “I’m sorry I was so hateful. I know you never meant to hurt me. I love you.” She smiled weakly. “That is truth.”
He didn’t know how long he kissed her, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. Sage eventually pulled away so she could wash his face with a warm, wet cloth and make him drink some water. The effort of sitting up to swallow made him sleepy, but he couldn’t bear to close his eyes while she was there.
Finally, he began to fade back into unconsciousness. “Will you still be alive when I wake up?” he mumbled.
Sage leaned in to kiss his dry and cracked lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”
89
THE SMELL WAS horrific, like something out of nightmares, but the land was too rocky and the bodies too numerous to bury them all. Continuous light rain meant they had to use oil and alcohol to get the fire burning, but fortunately there were also plenty of wood scraps from the guardhouse and the armory. The putrid smoke rose from the cleared area outside the main gate. Sage turned away from the pyre and saw Alex weaving toward her.
“What are you doing?” she scolded as she tucked herself under his right arm and propped him up. “For Spirit’s sake, you need rest.”
“I need you,” he said as she led him to a place to sit. Alex tugged the handkerchief that covered her nose and mouth down and kissed her. “I woke, and you were gone.”
She set him down and checked his injuries. “I’m sorry. There’s just so much to do and so few to work.”
“You shouldn’t be out here. This isn’t something I want you seeing.”
“I think it’s too late for that.” His wounds seemed fine, and she smiled in relief. “Besides, I put the women to work in the kitchen and laundry. If I wasn’t here, I’d have to put up with them.”
Alex relaxed against the stone column at the end of the drawbridge, and she thought he’d passed out again when his eyes snapped open. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
As if in response, horns all around the walls sounded. “It’s too early for help,” Alex said, struggling to his feet. “Get everyone inside!”
Casseck was already calling for that, and they’d just secured the portcullis and drawbridge when a dozen riders approached and halted outside, staring at the smoldering pile of bodies and the Demoran flags flying from the gate and the keep. Corporal Mason came running to report. “Hundreds, sir. Approaching from the south and west on foot.”