by Auryn Hadley
Chapter 26
His skin was so tender. The flesh parted easily beneath the blade. His lips were moist against her hand and she'd sliced deeply, like Cyno taught her. Sal counted two breaths before the blood began to leak from the cut, the smell so sweet. Bubbles formed in it before it ran down his neck, across his chest, and under her thighs. When the Chancellor realized his life was leaving him, he began to struggle, only making the blood flow faster. Sal held him, savoring the scent of her kill. His chest pushed against her naked body, his heart pounded beneath her, and she couldn't pull her eyes from his. With her hand smothering his moans, she found herself breathing faster, excited, and her lips pulled away from her teeth in a pleased snarl.
The light faded from his eyes, but she held him until she could no longer feel his heartbeat.
Sucking in a deep breath, the unexpected rush startled her. She had to fight the desire to taste his blood. The man beneath her was still warm, but dead, and he smelled so sweet. Releasing his slack mouth, she sat up, looked out the window, and listened to the building around her. Hearing nothing, she rolled off the corpse.
Thick blood covered her, dripping to her feet. Sal pulled at the corner of the bed, wiping as much from herself as she could. There were no vessels for water in the room so she spit on her hands, inspecting the wound on her right, then rubbed them in the bedding again, ignoring the pain.
She was not clean, but she could walk down a dark hall way without calling too much attention to herself. Sal pulled on the expensive dress and shoved her feet into the shoes. She tried to fasten the hooks behind her, but they were too small to close by feel alone. Instead, she settled her long blonde hair over her back. Walking to the window, her reflection served as a mirror. It would have to do.
One more time across the room, past the dead man, and the metal blade caught her eye. She wiped it on the sheets before shoving it into her gown, between the layers of the bodice. A few smaller metal objects went beside it, as proof of the Emperor's gifts. Satisfied that she'd accomplished her mission, Sal walked softly to the door and waited, listening to the sounds in the hall before opening it carefully.
Only darkness lay beyond. She slipped out, pulling the door closed behind her. Her iliran eyes turned the night into shades of grey, and she turned to the right. A few steps further on, she saw the plain door and stepped through it without hesitation. Hampers lined the walls, overflowing with dirty clothes. Sal picked through the piles, finding a pair of trousers close enough to her size and a servant's dress to go over it. She rolled the legs of the pants high enough so they couldn't be seen underneath her skirt, then shoved the metal trinkets in the pockets, only keeping the blade out.
Mentally, she traced her route through the expansive building. Servants' halls were common, and Sal tried to remember irregularities in the floor plan that would conceal them. One possibility leapt to mind.
A handful of clothing in her arms, she carried herself like she had a purpose, the knife tucked inside her bundle. Past the bathing chamber – she moved quickly when women's voices came from inside – she ducked into an alcove as a guardsman climbed the stairs. With every sense alert, she waited for him to pass, then walked back into the main hall and continued down the corridor, stepping through a plain door that seemed to lead to nothing.
Her guess was right. She stood in an unused servant's passage. Jogging down the stairs, her heart pounding, she listened at each door. When the stairs ended, her mental compass told her she was on the ground floor. Only silence waited on the other side, so she opened it, surprised to find herself in the courtyard beside the stables.
The Lieutenant's warning rang in her mind, so Sal looked around for a stablehand. Nothing. She slid along the wall quietly. Lights burned brightly inside, but she couldn't hear the sounds of people. Lifting her chin, she walked in.
Horses stood tied along the left wall, quietly munching hay in their mangers. The first, a boldly marked dun, would have been easy enough to grab, but Sal remembered the look on Blaec's face when he recited his vision. Down the line was a chestnut, then a leggy bay with a loose fitting halter. Across from him, a rack of bridles hung along the wall. Sal judged the size of the gelding's head and chose one that would be a close fit. Her plan made, she walked toward the bay, grabbed the bridle as she passed, dropped her rags on the floor, and slipped it over the halter. When she bent to retrieve the knife, she heard a gasp of surprise. One swing cut through the rope, freeing the horse, and she swung onto his back. Her weight settled on the gelding as the guards cried out from the building.
Sal shoved her calves against the lean horse, sparing nothing more than a glance at the stablehand as she spun the gelding in his stall and urged him toward the exit.
"Hey!" the boy cried, finding his voice. "Stop!"
The bay raced through the courtyard, toward the gates. They'd be closing soon, with all the yelling from the Chancery, and she begged the horse to run faster. He complied gladly, stretching his long legs. The ground flew past, buildings becoming a blur. They charged through the gates just as the portcullis gears begin to move. That was just the first hurdle.
Outside, she pulled the gelding to a calm canter, hoping to keep him from exhausting himself too soon. Through the city streets, their path was to the west and north. When she passed the last building, she looked for the tall hill capped with twin trees.
Her ears strained for signs of chase as Sal pushed the bay into the hills, keeping to the trees and shadows. Hopefully, the uneven ground would hide her from pursuit. At a trot, they crested a hill but lights glinted behind her, torches flickering through the trees, gaining on her quickly.
She squeezed the gelding, feeling the burn in her thighs as she struggled to grip his sleek hide. The willing horse pushed forward, covering ground. Leaning low on his neck, she gave him his head and checked over her shoulder. Watching behind her, she almost missed the line of guards cresting the hill to her left; only a twitch of her horse's head alerted her in time. Yanking hard to the right, she wrapped her fingers in his mane. The gelding bounded down the steep terrain. A few brave men followed. One horse lost its footing and tumbled onto its rider.
They were too close! She pushed the bay hard, his legs racing under him, covering ground, but sweat slicked his hair. They ran until the Chancery was lost in the darkness, not even the glow of the town around it visible. She knew she was pushing her mount beyond his limits, but she had no other choice. Slowly, pace by pace, the guards were catching up while her horse began to falter.
Zep! she cried out in her mind, I'm not going to make it! She hoped he could hear her across the distance and made for the hilltop that her eyes could barely see.
Thundering hooves, loud in her ears, came close. Sal looked over her shoulder, finding a guard reaching for her, hoping to catch her trailing hair or clothing. She flailed at him with the blade still in her hand, and he yanked his arm back. She forced the poor gelding on. Unable to kick and keep her grip, she slapped him with the flat of the blade, driving him for more speed. The exhausted horse tried but simply could not pull away. They were catching her. The enemy was too close!
Looking toward the hill, still so far away, she called out again in her mind. Zep!
We're coming, Sal. Straight up the middle, baby, we're coming. She could barely hear him, but he shouted the thought hard and it came through.
I'm riding hard. I don't know if this horse can make it.
Damn it! Just keep riding, Sal, I'm coming for you.
In the grey darkness, her eyes could make out a lone rider charging at them. She recognized Cessa by the set of the mare's head, and Sal guided her gelding past, squeezing hard to prevent the tired horse from slowing. Zep, in full resin armor, little more than a shadow against the dark mare, held his pike low against her shoulder.
Sal looked back in time to see the weapon pierce the soldier closest to her, lifting him out of the saddle when Cessa slid to a hard stop. Zep dropped the pike and spun his mare, pulling a res
in sword from the sheath at his back. He tilted the horse's head just enough for her to see the last man, then dropped the reins. Cessa pinned her ears and dug in, unwilling to let her target out of her sight.
Sal could feel the gelding failing beneath her. She only needed to make it over one more hill before they'd meet the infantry sent to protect them. She begged him to canter on with her hips, pushing the horse into each step. Hearing hoof beats closing on her again, she only saw Zep racing to catch up and relief flooded her. Cessa pulled abreast of Sal's horse and the gelding seemed to find his second wind. He stretched his legs enough to make a true gallop, his neck and shoulders lathered, his breathing hard. Sal looked over at Zep, his dark eyes looking back. She would be safe now.
Side by side, they passed behind the line of infantry and Sal pulled her weary horse up, slipping from his back before the poor bay could stop. She pulled his reins over his head and began to walk, slowly, letting the exhausted horse gulp air, her own knees weak.
Thank you, Zep, she thought. Shit, I can't thank you enough.
You don't need to say it, Sal. I know you'd do the same for me. Are you ok to keep that horse walking?
I think so.
Ok, he thought, let me give these boys orders. Head back to camp. I'll be back with you before you get ten meters.
She sent him an acknowledgment and turned her feet toward the campfires in the distance. Exhaustion clawed at her, the gash in her face and the bruises throbbed painfully. The smell of blood drifted beneath her clothes and from the weapon she held, making her mind twist in strange ways, but her fingers were too painful to release the blade. True to his word, she heard Cessa's hooves behind her before she walked out of sight of the infantry.
Give me your hand, Sal. We can pony the poor horse back and you don't need to be walking.
She looked up to find Zep's arm reaching for her. Out of habit, she offered her right hand, the blade still clutched tightly in her fist. He grabbed it, prying her blood encrusted fingers away, and she moaned at the exquisite rush of pain. He looked at her quickly, his expression shocked. Tucking the weapon into his belt, he wrapped his hand around her forearm and pulled her into his lap instead of behind him on the saddle while Cessa resumed walking.
"Sal, what happened to you? You can barely stand," he said softly, holding her against his chest.
"The Chancellor is dead, the Emperor is providing metal weapons – like the one in your belt – to his supporters, I didn't take the dun, and next time, I'll remember to saddle the bay."
She wrapped her bloody hand in his leathers and pulled herself close to him, inhaling his human sweetness. She wanted to bite him, to taste the salt of his skin and the sugar of his blood. The desire made her feel disgusted with herself. She wasn't a beast; she was a damned soldier who'd just completed her first mission as an elite!
"I need to report, Zep," she whispered.
"That's where I'm taking you, little one," he promised. "LT's worried sick. You're the last one back."
"I can't be alone with him. Not yet."
"I'll be with you, and I'll make sure he knows you aren't staying. Don't worry about it. Just report to your commander. Your lover will understand."
"Ok," she agreed numbly, trying to hide her shame.
Chapter 27
She made a sight when they rode into camp: a bloody and crumpled mess held against the chest of a Black Blade, the reins of her gelding still twined in her hand and trailing across Zep's leg. She didn't care. Her mind kept returning to the soft feeling of the man's flesh under the knife. Thinking about it, she licked her lips, clutching harder at Zep's leathers. Sal had never used metal weapons before. Their edges were sharp, but jagged in a way the resin swords of the Conglomerate weren't. The feeling seemed trapped in her arm and the smell of blood clung to her, making her heart beat faster.
"You!" Zep called to the first soldier he came across. "Grab this horse, walk him out until he's cool, then bring him to the Black Blades. Tell them it's the bay, and there'll be a reward in it for ya."
"Yes sir!" the man replied, reaching up for the horse's reins.
"Sal," Zep whispered into her hair, "let him have the horse."
She forced her hand to open, and the solider turned the gelding away. Walking him toward the edge of camp, his gentle hand patted the tired horse's damp neck. She could hear Zep thinking and knew he was sending to one of the Blades. Glancing up at his face, she caught him watching her.
"Arctic's going to meet us," he said. "Unless you want me to drop you in the grass, I figured he'd be ok to help you down?"
"I'm sorry, Zep. Thank you," she breathed, and he nodded, knowingly.
Cessa stopped and Zep shifted Sal's weight. Arctic's voice touched her mind. Sal, slide on down here. I got you.
His strong hands reached up to grab her waist, the feel brotherly and nothing more. She couldn't help but notice the smell of him, warm and pungent, so different from Zep's sweetness. He lifted her from the saddle easily, letting her lean on him until she could get her legs under her properly. He glanced at Zep meaningfully, but before she could ask, Arctic turned and walked away.
She stood alone with Zep before the Lieutenant's pavilion, able to smell the sweet scent inside. She knew it was Blaec, but couldn't stop thinking about her teeth piercing his body. Her heart pounded in her chest. Over and over, she sucked clear air into her lungs, convincing herself she could do this. She wasn't an animal! After a polite scratch at the tent flap, she ducked inside. Zep followed on her heels.
Blaec sat at a desk in the center of the room, a large map spread across it. At the sound of their entry, he looked up, a pained expression on his face. His eyes met hers and he rose halfway from the chair, but halted when Zep shook his head. Blaec sighed deeply and nodded at Zep as he straightened his shoulders and turned to her.
"Corporal Luxx, can you report?" he asked professionally.
"Sir, the Chancellor has been eliminated," she replied in the same tone. "He claimed the Emperor has been supplying him with metal weapons." She handed him the items she had, then gestured to Zep, who passed the curved blade to LT. "And his room was entirely filled with various ancient metal items. I was only able to secure these."
"Well done, Corporal." he said, his eyes darting to Zep, but Zep refused to look at anything but her. Nodding, Blaec continued, "All four targets have been eliminated tonight. We have four days before we begin the next attack, so find yourself a bath, soldier, and take the rest of the night off."
Together, Sal and Zep saluted and turned to the exit, but before she could leave, she heard LT's voice behind her. "You're a good soldier, Sal. I'm glad you took the bay."
In the fresh air outside the pavilion, a hush covered their camp. The occasional crescendo of voices could be heard from the main army as soldiers distracted themselves, but the Black Blades were reserved, most of their conversations being in their minds. Sal kept hers locked tight, scared of what might leak. She took a deep breath of night air and licked at the blood on her lips, then turned to look for Zep.
He stood only feet from her, holding Cessa's reins, waiting. She started to walk to him, then saw the lean form of Cyno squatting against the side of the pavilion. His cold eyes stalked her.
"Sal," he said, his rough voice gentle. "C'mon. Ya need a bath, and Zep can na help ya." He stood, slowly, allowing her to predict his movement. With a tilt of his head he urged her to follow him, and smiled when she nodded. "Go on, Zep, I got her."
"Thanks, little brother," Zep replied, his brown eyes soft when he looked at Sal.
They walked in silence, Cyno staying at her side. His movements were calculated, but he made no attempt to meet her eyes. He just led her to a brilliant blue tent, borrowed from the army, set up at the edge of their camp.
"I can either come in with ya or guard the door out here," he said. "Yer choice, but there's a nice hot bath waiting and a pair of blacks in yer size."
She struggled to find her voice. "I – I'm not quite re
ady to be alone yet, Cyno."
"I know, kitten. Trust me, of all the men here, I know." He guided her into the tent, tying the door securely behind them. "Sal, ya gotta let the form go. That's first. Come back to yerself, and ya'll feel better for it."
She relaxed. As she peeled the soiled clothes over her head, she felt her skin tingle. Pushing the trousers to her ankles, she refused to look at Cyno, not caring if he saw her undressed. A part of her hoped he enjoyed it. By the time she stepped into the tub, her skin had bleached back to white, the blood stains a dried brown smear against her flesh. Her hair, now straight and nearly silver, hung to her waist without the curls. Stepping into the tub, the water swirled around her, turning red from the blood dissolving off her body. Sal closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe deeply before slipping her head below the water to rinse her face. Her cuts burned and she gasped at the sharply erotic feel of them.
Cyno pulled a stool behind her and sat, his back against hers, the wall of the tub separating them. "Tell me about it," he whispered.
"It was easy, Cyno. Too easy," she said. "He wanted to rape me. He paid that girl for the night, and then did his best to scare me enough to make it rape." She fell silent, her thoughts crashing into her head too quickly.
"And?" he pushed.
"And I got mad. I didn't just do it because it was an order. I wanted to." She swallowed hard when her throat threatened to close. "Damn it, Cyno, I wanted to make him suffer for what he tried to do. I couldn't control it. I acted like a damned beast."
"It feels good, though," he said, the honesty in his voice shocking her.
"It shouldn't."
"Maybe na, but it still does."