The Consort

by K. A. Linde

  Cyrene glanced from person to person. The Triangle was the three war-torn countries of Kell, Mastira, and Harthrow, but she had never heard anything about this Guild.

  “We apologize for anything that we did wrong. We were unaware of this Guild or Guild law,” Cyrene added.

  The woman turned to the man, and he nodded.

  “The girl,” she said, pointing at Avoca, “will be broken like a prized horse. If she survives, then you can go free.”

  Avoca seethed. “I will not be broken.”

  The man leaned forward and grinned. “We’ll see.”

  “The rest of you can try to earn your own freedom once she fails,” the woman added. “Except you.” Her eyes were fixed on Cyrene. “I believe my commander wouldn’t mind keeping you.”

  Cyrene balked at the suggestion. “She will win. We will all win. And, when we are done, I will teach you what it means to be broken.”

  The commander cut the ties on Avoca’s wrists. She flexed her magic like a living, breathing extension of her body. She never again wanted to be parted from it.

  She rolled her shoulders and glared at the commander. “You have made a terrible mistake.”

  “We’ll see.” He grinned. “You’re to fight a trained Guild member to the death. You can use anything at your command. There are no rules.”

  Avoca snarled at him, “I would like my blades back then.”

  His head snapped to the administrators of their fate. The woman nodded.

  Someone went to retrieve her blades from a pack. Suddenly, they were flying across the room, aimed straight at her head. She grinned at the challenge and then unleashed her Leif abilities, launching her body into a twisting roll and catching them midair.

  The commander had the good sense to look impressed. It was damn good that he did. She had had more than a hundred years to sharpen her fighting skills. And she had done it for much of that time without magic as a crutch. She doubted some newborn assassin had a chance against her.

  “Who will take on the woman?” the commander called into the crowd.

  Avoca turned to face that crowd with the poise of her people. She was ready for slaughter. Then, a woman stepped up to face her. She was at least six feet tall and built like a mountain.

  “I will take on the bitch,” she said.

  A war cry went up around the room, and all Avoca could hear over the stomping of feet was one word repeated like an anthem.

  Lynx.

  Avoca didn’t know who this Lynx was, nor did she care. She was dressed in all black, like the rest of them, and had a huge staff in her hand that had an arrowhead on one end.

  The room cleared as a ring opened up for their match. Avoca brushed past Cyrene, who was staring at the commander with murder in her eyes.

  The commander turned his eyes on Cyrene. “You. Here.”

  “I’m not a dog,” she bit out.

  “Shall I make you into one? You’d look nice on all fours.”

  Avoca shook her head. Cyrene and the commander were a complication. She could already tell that he was attracted to her. If she didn’t get them out of this, then she was sure he would take Cyrene for himself. That was absolutely not something she could live with. She would win this challenge, and that would be the end of it.

  Avoca stalked Lynx in a tight circle as she assessed her opponent’s skill and weaknesses. Lynx was heavier, which meant that she was slower. Avoca knew that it was to her advantage that she was slight and appeared young and innocent. No one suspected that she was over a hundred years old, and clearly, they believed her to be human. Lynx had strength and muscle going for her, which meant she had bulk and reach. Avoca needed to be light on her feet. Get in and out and never within arm’s reach.

  Avoca waited. She could see the girl tense before her. Not the best of their lot if she was showcasing where she was going to strike. Avoca held on to the fierce, quiet calm that settled in her bones before a fight. She was ready.

  Lynx jumped forward, exactly how Avoca had anticipated. She was ready for her opponent. Though not as ready for the amount of speed and agility that she demonstrated for a girl of her size. Avoca let her surprise show blatant on her face. She always kept her emotions under tight guard, but she knew that she could use them to her advantage.

  The girl saw Avoca’s face and took the bait, rushing right into Avoca’s defenses. Avoca’s smile was feral when she aimed a quick jab for the girl’s throat. Lynx barely blocked it before dodging the next hit Avoca threw as well. But she had thrown Lynx off.

  Right from the start, it was clear that Avoca would win this. However, with the way she and her friends had been treated, Avoca had no intention of letting her go easy.

  Lynx dashed for her again, throwing her spear up at the last second. Avoca met her with her blades. She backed up as the assault continued. Then, with fluid agility, she whirled in place, batted aside the staff, and sliced across Lynx’s cheek.

  Lynx bared her teeth. “That’s the last time you’ll get close enough for that.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Lynx took more caution in her second pass. Avoca had an advantage that Lynx hadn’t been expecting, and Lynx couldn’t just barrel in. With more finesse, she came forward with her staff. Avoca took a small breath before digging into the battle. She parried the blows with her blades. The girl was trained; Avoca would give her credit for that. Whatever was happening with these Guild members, they knew how to fight at least. Not like a Leif but well enough.

  Avoca was lost in her head for half a second too long when Lynx took a practiced swing and knocked one of Avoca’s blades from her hand. Avoca ground her teeth together. Clumsy.

  Lynx jabbed forward, and Avoca was still reeling from the blow that she couldn’t get out of the way quick enough. The blunt end of the staff rammed into her stomach.

  Avoca took the hit, and with a whoosh, all the air left her lungs. Not good. She needed to keep her head in this. Lynx came at her while she tried to catch her breath, and Avoca pivoted. She dropped to the ground and swept her leg out at Lynx. Her legs buckled, and all six feet of her toppled over. It was like watching a tree fall.

  Avoca jumped to attack with her blade, but Lynx rolled away from her and came to her feet in a crouch.

  There were no more chants. No more jeers. This was life or death. They had thought she was an easy target, and with one of their fighters, it should have been easy. But she was anything but an easy fight. This was what she had been trained for her entire life.

  Lynx leaped to her feet and raised her staff. Now, she fought with anger. Avoca could see it gleaming in her eyes. She rushed forward, slamming into Avoca. She pushed her back and back and back. Avoca let her. She let the girl think that she was making headway, but instead, all Avoca was doing was tiring Lynx out. Making her use up all her stored energy, burn it out on the anger. Then, when she least expected it, Avoca shifted and pressed her out of the circle. As she shoved Lynx, she brought her blade down on her arm, slicing it open from shoulder to elbow.

  The girl snarled like an animal and jabbed the tip of the staff toward Avoca’s arm. It grazed across her milky-white skin, and Avoca gasped. The jagged edge cut deeper than even her blades. She sidestepped the next pass and took the defensive as she eased pressure off that arm. Back in Eldora, it would have been an embarrassment to suffer such a cut. She would not allow it a second time.

  Just as Lynx shot out for Avoca again, a roar erupted from nearby. Goose bumps exploded on her skin, and her eyes cut away from the fight.

  Her eyes locked on Ahlvie as he shifted fully into his monstrous Indres form. Everyone was paralyzed with fear and confusion. It was practically palpable as they beheld the beast who had just stood as a human moments before.

  Ahlvie took off toward her, as if the scent of her blood had triggered some innate reaction within him. She knew that she could do nothing to stop him as he pounced on top of Lynx. The girl’s screams were drowned out by the sound of him ripping out her throat.
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br />   The room erupted into chaos. Avoca went into fighting mode. Though her thoughts about Ahlvie were jumbled at the moment, she could not deny that he had acted to save her life. No matter that she’d had the fight exactly where she wanted it, he’d rushed for her, and now, she would fight at his side.

  Time had no meaning as she fought against the Guild members all around her. Ahlvie was taking on many more than would have been physically possible in his human form. She felt a tug from Cyrene and knew what she was trying to say, even from a distance, even without looking for her.

  They were outnumbered, and they had the advantage of surprise.

  “Let’s get out of here!” she shouted at Ahlvie.

  He roared and then scattered the crowd before her. He was cutting them a path for the exit, and she followed in his wake, scooping up her discarded blade as she ran.

  They were out of the warehouse with only a few remaining Guild following them. She made quick work of them now that she was not on display and then hurried down the unfamiliar corridors. It was clear that Ahlvie was locating the exit by scent alone. She didn’t know if they would have found it so quickly otherwise.

  They exited onto an empty street and moved into the shadows. They dashed into the nearest stable. The horses nickered at Ahlvie’s appearance. Then, Ahlvie rippled and changed before her eyes. She still wasn’t used to this new version of him. The change that had taken over him. The enemy under his skin.

  He lay on the ground, his body covered in blood, naked as the day he had been born.

  Avoca tossed her cloak over him. He groaned and tugged it tight around him before slowly rising to his feet.

  “I…I don’t know what came over me,” Ahlvie said.

  “I do not either,” she said.

  He frowned and glanced off. “I couldn’t stand to see you hurt. I had to protect you.”

  “I was doing fine. I can protect myself. You know I would have won.”

  He nodded. “I do. It wasn’t because I believed you were not formidable.”

  “Then, why?” Her voice was tight.

  She didn’t know if she could endure this. This was Ahlvie. The man full of sunlight and lies, trickery and savagery. The man who made her skin tingle and a smile touch her features. The man who knew her, understood her.

  Yet Indres were her enemy. And keeping that from her was a different sort of lie. One she could not possibly understand…and had no idea how she could forgive. Did not believe she would ever forget.

  “When I smelled your blood and knew you were in danger, it was like my brain exploded. I went completely insane. Something snapped, and I had to protect you. I didn’t care what I had to do or who I had to kill to get to you. You were the only thought in my head.”

  “So, it was your Indres instincts,” she said, shuddering at the idea.

  “Not entirely, but I can no longer deny that it is part of who I am. No more than I can deny that I love you.”

  Avoca nodded once. She didn’t have words for that. She didn’t know how to respond to it.

  Love was…

  It was enough.

  For now.

  She nodded her head at him and then glanced away.

  “Avoca, please,” he said, reaching for her.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I need more time.”

  “I am still the same man that you fell for.”

  “Are you?” she asked.

  “Aren’t you tired of the prejudice against Leifs, against you? Can’t you imagine that I have been sick of the way people have treated me my entire life, and this only makes it worse?”

  “I cannot help how I feel.”

  “But you can help how you react to it. I didn’t choose this,” he said vehemently. “It chose me.”

  “And I chose you,” she reminded him. “But I don’t have to.”

  He stumbled back a step. “Avoca…”

  “I…cannot come to terms with being with a monster.”

  “That’s what I am to you?” he asked in disbelief.

  “You are a six-sided die.” Their eyes met as she spoke his language, “Every time we are together, you roll the dice, and I only have one chance of winning.”

  “I’m not wagering on our love.”

  “Why not? You wager on everything else,” she whispered as she moved back to the entrance to wait for Cyrene.

  She could sense him behind her, desperate to reach out, desperate for more. But she was glad that he didn’t approach her. Didn’t see the silent tears running down her face.

  Chaos broke out around the room, as if the place were up in flames.

  Cyrene’s mouth dropped open, but instinct took over. She shouted through the bond for Avoca to get herself out as soon as she could. Orden had somehow wrestled a sword from an unsuspecting victim and was slicing through the bindings on Matilde’s and Vera’s wrists. She rushed to their side but was hastily scooped up by the commander.

  “What in the bloody hell did you bring here?” he demanded.

  She elbowed him in the side. “Let me go.”

  “I’d do as she said,” Matilde ruthlessly said with a fireball in her hand. Her dark hair had fallen out of its bun, and she looked like a fire-wielding goddess.

  “I could kill her before you ever hope to reach me.”

  “But you won’t. That is not in line with your code,” Vera said. Ice had started crawling its way up her arms, and the path around her was frozen solid.

  “Release her. Now,” Matilde said.

  Orden was holding the rest of the group at bay while Avoca and Ahlvie fought their way out of the room.

  “You will regret this,” the commander said, pushing Cyrene toward them. “The Guild does not forgive slights. We will come after you tenfold. There is not a place in all of Emporia that we do not touch.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Vera said before freezing his feet to the ground.

  His eyes widened at the ease with which she had done it. He opened his mouth, as if to ask a question, but Matilde released her fireball, and suddenly, the place was actually on fire.

  Orden grabbed Cyrene’s wrists and snapped through the rope. Her magic released itself to her at once, and she sighed with relief. She used her pent-up energy to blast the wave of fighters away from them. Then, as they were disoriented and the ceiling started to cave in from the fire, they made a dash for the exit.

  Cyrene could feel a tug from Avoca, guiding them out of the Guild headquarters and through the maze. They exited onto an empty street in an abandoned part of town. They barreled down the road, keeping to side streets as much as they could, before they came upon the stable where Avoca was standing watch. They all ducked inside and out of the cold.

  “You’re safe,” Cyrene said, embracing Avoca.

  “Yes. We made it fine.”

  “Where is Ahlvie?”

  “Here,” he said, returning in ill-fitted breeches and an unbuttoned shirt. “Had to sneak into the house and find something to wear. Imagine if one of the ladies had walked in on me, naked and rummaging through their drawers.”

  “In Kell, it would be tantamount to losing your head,” Vera said. “Kell is extremely prudish and undeniably religious. They take their prayers to the Creator very seriously.”

  “What in the Creator’s name was that place?” Avoca demanded, turning her back on Ahlvie. “Fighting for my life after they ambushed us?”

  “The Guild,” Orden said with a sigh.

  “You know of it?” Matilde asked in surprise.

  “I don’t just know it. My master was trained in it.”

  Everyone stared at him, agog.

  “They’re practically a sacred organization within the Triangle.”

  “But what are they?” Cyrene asked.

  “Assassins,” Orden said simply.

  “You were trained as an assassin?” Ahlvie asked. “Come on! You’ve been holding out on me.”

  “I was not trained as an assassin. I am a man of honor. After my sis
ter, Lissa, died, I left the court at Aurum, and I disappeared into the Sand Plains, determined to end it all. I came across a man who saw my potential and offered to train me. I was foolish and believed myself already a skilled swordsman. I spent five precious years learning I was wrong and heard more stories than you could possibly fathom about my master’s life here in the Guild.”

  Cyrene’s heart broke. Orden offered very little about his history. She had always respected his privacy but found his backstory to be so fascinating.

  “I think the important thing that has changed about the Guild since we were last here,” Matilde said, “is that they train with magic. Though they have little knowledge of what they’re actually doing. It is clear that they believe their energy, as they call it, is bound to their fighting skills. The ropes, once sliced, couldn’t tie off our powers any longer.”

  “A huge misstep in their magical education,” Vera said.

  “That’s why you weren’t worried?” Cyrene asked.

  Vera nodded once. “For all their skill, they are untrained in the ways of the Doma.”

  “But are formidable as assassins here,” Orden said. “They freely walk around without retribution. People allow them into their homes without complaint. Assassins are the way of the world here, and no one turns against them.”

  “Well,” Ahlvie said with an indulgent shrug, “there’s a first time for everything.”

  Cyrene shook her head at Ahlvie. Of course, that would be his takeaway. “We need to find a safe place for the night and then get out of Alba as soon as we can.”

  “An inn would not be a good idea,” Matilde said. “Not if what Orden says is true of the Guild.”

  “We no longer have contacts in the city,” Vera said. “I knew we should have come here sooner.”

  “I truly do hate the snow,” Matilde said.

  They continued quarreling when a light bulb struck Cyrene.

  “Creator! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

  “What?” Ahlvie asked.

  “We’re in Alba.”

  “Yes. Thank you for that assessment.”

  “My sister Aralyn lives here. She is the Ambassador to Kell.”