Destroy: (The Blades of Acktar 3.5)

by Tricia Mingerink

  Addie turned, wrapped her arms around Keevan, and leaned against him as much as she could while six months pregnant. Beyond the beating of Keevan’s heart, shuffling filled the room. Her brothers leaving to give them a bit of privacy.

  As one, probably Patrick, slipped past her, a hand tugged her hairpin free, sending her hair springing out of its bun.

  10

  “Good shot, Patrick. You’re getting better.”

  Keevan ducked a swing from Frank and risked a glance toward the tree several of his bodyguards, including Patrick and Brennen, were using as a target. Patrick had gotten within an inch of the center of the knot where a branch had once been.

  “Are you kidding? That was a great shot!” Patrick shook his head and nocked another arrow, as if to prove that shot wasn’t a one-time wonder.

  The flat of a sword whacked against Keevan’s shin. “Pay attention.”

  Keevan would’ve dragged his attention back to Frank and their sword fight, but a man sprinted from the direction of the entrance to Eagle Heights. General Stewart spoke with him for a few minutes before turning and hurrying toward Keevan.

  “I think we’ll have to halt.” Keevan sheathed his sword. Around him, the others dropped what they were doing and gathered around him, going from friends to guards. Seven of his personal guards were there: Addie’s three brothers, and four of the men who’d helped get Keevan out of Nalgar all those years ago.

  Addie set aside her sewing and let Brennen pull her to her feet and into the cluster of guards. Keevan reached a hand toward her, and she slid her fingers into his. He wasn’t sure why his stomach dropped like it did.

  General Stewart halted in front of him. “Shadrach Alistair is outside the entrance. He has a Blade with him. He requests sanctuary for him.”

  Keevan closed his eyes. Sanctuary for a Blade. What choice did he have? Lord Alistair had promised the Blade refuge for turning against Respen. Keevan couldn’t break Lord Alistair’s word and his own integrity by turning the Blade away, especially not when he stood outside the stones of Eagle Heights.

  But what if this was an elaborate trap? What if getting a Blade into Eagle Heights had been Respen’s plan all along? Keevan had thousands of lives depending on him to keep them safe here. Including his wife and unborn child.

  “Let them enter, but keep a watch on the Blade. I want to speak with him and Shadrach Alistair in the meeting room.” Keevan straightened his shoulders. He could face this Blade. Somehow.

  Spinning on his heels, Keevan marched toward the main cabin as quickly as Addie’s pace would allow. As soon as they were inside, Keevan gripped her arms. “Please go upstairs. I don’t want that Blade getting anywhere near you.”

  Addie kissed his cheek right over the scar. “All right.”

  As she climbed up one step at a time, Keevan faced her brothers. “I want the three of you stationed here at the bottom of the stairs. Don’t let anyone past besides me.”

  Frank rested a hand on his sword while Patrick and Brennen took up positions on either side of him. Even Patrick didn’t smile.

  The other four guards gathered around him. Keevan drew in a deep breath. This was going to be hard enough to face without an audience. He pointed at the door across the hall. “Wait there if you’re needed.”

  “But, sir…” Oran stared at him, wide-eyed, as General Stewart stepped inside.

  “I don’t think this Blade will try anything here.” Keevan had to believe that. “General Stewart, I’d like you to escort Shadrach Alistair and the Blade into the meeting room and stay when I speak with them.”

  Keevan didn’t wait for a reply. He strode into the room. A few candles burned at the far end, and Keevan began to light a few more, but his hands were shaking.

  In a few minutes, he would face a Blade for the first time in four and a half years. And he would have to be civil. Surely he could do that. He would have to interview this Blade, judge if he was telling the truth, and make a decision from there.

  Be objective. Be a leader. Don’t let his emotions get the better of him. Wasn’t that what he’d spent these past four years learning?

  Voices echoed outside the door. Keevan faced the wall, staring at the flickering candle flames.

  A knock sounded against the door. Keevan drew in a deep breath. It was time. “Come in.”

  Three sets of feet tromped across the floorboards. Keevan couldn’t make himself turn around. Perhaps if he didn’t look at the Blade, he could get through this.

  “Your Highness.”

  Maybe if Keevan pretended only Shadrach stood behind him, he would survive this. “Welcome, Lord Shadrach. What news do you bring of Acktar?”

  “Respen’s armies have attacked Walden. My father and a few volunteers were besieged last time we knew.”

  Keevan drew in a shuddering breath. Walden under siege. Lord Alistair, the man who’d protected Keevan when his entire world had fallen apart, could be dead.

  “Lady Rennelda remains a prisoner in Nalgar Castle, but Lady Brandiline was rescued and brought here.”

  His cousins. Keevan tried to picture them, but all he remembered was a twelve-year-old tousle-headed girl crying while her eight-year-old sister huddled behind Aunt Annita. After all these years, it was hard to remember he even had a family besides Addie’s.

  Shadrach paused, and the pause was long enough to wrap tension through Keevan’s stomach and down his back. He could sense the Blade behind him. Sense the Blade’s eyes studying him.

  “The Blade I told you about, the one that defected to our side months ago, has been forced to flee Acktar.”

  Keevan had to face him. He couldn’t keep cowering with his face turned to the wall. Clenching his fists, Keevan spun on his heel.

  His gaze slammed into a pair of bright green eyes set in a tanned face below black hair. The same green eyes he’d once seen peering down at him, knife glinting in the moonlight.

  That knife. The tearing, searing pain. Terror. Steel shining and flashing as it stabbed down…

  And Addie. Addie and their unborn child were in this cabin. Too close to this Blade. To his knives slashing…slashing…Addie’s throat…her blood pumping onto white sheets…

  “Arrest him.” The words rasped from Keevan’s throat. He had to get this Blade away from Addie. Away from their child. He was too free, standing there untied within reach of his weapons. Keevan had to make sure those knives couldn’t get anywhere near Addie.

  His rasping gasps joined a roaring in his ears. Addie. Their child. And only a staircase separating them from this Blade.

  “No, you don’t understand.” Shadrach threw himself between the Blade and Keevan, as if the Blade was the one who needed protecting. “Leith saved my father’s life and the lives of all the nobility still loyal to you. He may have been a Blade but not anymore.”

  Leith. That was this monster’s name.

  Shadrach was the one who didn’t understand. He didn’t have memories of moonlight and knives and green eyes and pain, so much pain. Choking and terror and death squeezing the life from his throat and knowing that all his brothers had died the same way, even thirteen-year-old Duncan.

  “Shad, don’t.” The Blade, the killer named Leith, laid a hand on Shadrach’s arm. “He has reason to arrest me. I’m the Blade who gave him that scar.”

  His voice was a low baritone, unhindered as it came from his mouth. Would Keevan’s voice have sounded like that had this Blade not stolen it when he’d tried to steal his life?

  Shadrach stiffened, his gaze flicking between Keevan and the Blade. Apparently, he hadn’t guessed the connection.

  But someone had known. Surely Lord Alistair had guessed this Blade Leith was the one who’d nearly killed Keevan. He’d read Keevan’s description of him. He’d seen the same note from Stetterly that Keevan had. The moment this Blade met his gaze, Lord Alistair had to have known.

  Yet he’d kept this secret from Keevan, his prince, his Leader. Instead, he’d let this Blade walk right into Eagle H
eights.

  Heat burned along Keevan’s spine and into his scar. He had to cross his arms to hide his shaking hands. Lord Alistair had sworn his loyalty to Keevan. Keevan had trusted Lord Alistair to lead the Resistance in Acktar on his behalf. Yet, Lord Alistair had chosen this monster.

  Except the monster seemed intent on not acting like one. He stepped forward, knelt, and clasped his hand over his heart. “My king.”

  Such a lie. Where had his loyalty been when he’d brought the knife down? When he’d helped kill Uncle Laurence and Aunt Annita? Keevan didn’t have to take such tainted words, not from the likes of him.

  He clenched his fingers. “How many marks do you have, Blade?”

  The Blade pushed his sleeve to his shoulder, showing off rows upon rows of marks from his shoulder to his elbow. Such small marks for all the blood they carried.

  “Thirty-seven.” The Blade’s shoulders rose and fell as he pointed at a mark on his upper arm. “Killing you was my sixth mark, though it seems I was less successful than either Respen or I realized.”

  Which mark was Uncle Laurence’s and Aunt Annita’s? How many other deaths were recorded there? Twenty? More?

  And Shadrach expected Keevan to simply turn this Blade loose in Eagle Heights? A mountain filled with women and children who had already seen too much pain?

  Keevan gestured to General Stewart, who had slowly stalked behind the Blade. “General, take him away.”

  The Blade, slippery snake that he was, meekly held up his hands. He didn’t struggle as General Stewart yanked his hands behind his back more roughly than necessary. General Stewart had the same memories of blood and knives on a moonlit night. He, at least, understood.

  “What do you plan to do with him?” Shadrach gripped those knives as if he contemplated interfering and making his family’s betrayal even more complete.

  “Hold a trial. I’m sure I’ll be able to find a few eyewitnesses to provide testimony.” Keevan hadn’t given it much thought, yet. But surely the thousands of families here at Eagle Heights deserved justice. Surely he deserved justice.

  Shadrach glared. “You can’t do that. He could be sentenced to death. He came here seeking mercy. My father promised him sanctuary in good faith.”

  Lord Alistair had also kept the truth from Keevan. Where had his promises of loyalty been then? “Your father had no right to promise for me.”

  “He had every right.” Shadrach faced Keevan like he was prepared to fight his prince over the monster. “You gave him the authority to lead the Resistance in Acktar in your stead. That gives him the authority to make promises in your stead.”

  Keevan didn’t care. Not when he could still see his own blood dripping onto a white sheet. Not when his wife and unborn child huddled upstairs.

  “A trial won’t be necessary. I’m guilty. I’ll confess everything, all thirty-seven marks. I have nothing I wish to hide.” The Blade’s voice remained even. No excuses. Just a confession of guilt.

  He lifted his gaze to Keevan’s. There was something in that gaze, something Keevan recognized all too well. It was the same plea for mercy that Keevan had worn only two weeks ago when facing Ellenora.

  Keevan should give mercy the way he’d been granted mercy such a short time ago. He should be able to look this Blade in the eye and tell him he was forgiven.

  But any thought of forgiveness drowned in the memories of the last time he’d faced this Blade. Back then, their roles had been reversed. Keevan had been the one pleading for mercy.

  And this Blade hadn’t given it.

  He’d brought the knife down.

  All the Blades had brought their knives down. And blood had filled Nalgar Castle until its cobblestones cried red.

  Rorin. Aengus. Their parents. Uncle Laurence and Aunt Annita. Both of Shadrach Alistair’s grandfathers. And Duncan. Thirteen-year-old Duncan.

  Where had mercy been then?

  There had been none. And there would be none now.

  Keevan flicked his hand, and General Stewart dragged the Blade from the room.

  Shadrach stepped in front of Keevan. “That isn’t necessary!”

  “Yes, it is!” Keevan clenched his fists. If he wasn’t the prince, he would’ve been tempted to punch Shadrach. Instead, he had to stand here and take it. “Why are you defending him?”

  “Because he’s my friend!” Shadrach’s hands shook around the bundle of the Blade’s knives, as if he didn’t realize that one of those knives he held had nearly killed his prince.

  “He took my voice. He helped kill my aunt and uncle.” Keevan stepped closer to Shadrach. “How do you know he didn’t kill one of your grandfathers?”

  Shadrach exhaled a long, slow breath. His shoulders slumped a fraction. “I don’t. I’ve never asked.”

  “Why not? Afraid of the answer?” Keevan crossed his arms.

  “No. At this moment, it wouldn’t make a difference.” Shadrach switched the bundle of weapons to his other hand. “I trust him.”

  But Keevan didn’t. How could he when all he could see was that glinting, stabbing knife over and over again? Shadrach wouldn’t be so quick to trust if he’d seen the cruelty in that knife.

  How could Shadrach and his father side with this Blade against Keevan?

  Heat pressed into Keevan’s skull and flared down his scar. And once again, that knife glinted. The green eyes hardened. And the pain choked out his life.

  Keevan had to live for the rest of his life with a scar on his face and a monster in his voice. He had to wonder if each day was the one his voice would fail completely or if, when his child was born, he or she would recoil from him the same way everyone else but Addie did when they first heard him speak. Why was Keevan the one who had to endure the punishment of that night while that Blade never suffered anything for it?

  When a girl with streaming red-blond hair and raised fists flew into the room, Keevan didn’t control his emotions. For the second time in his life, he didn’t even try.

  And for the second time, he regretted it.

  11

  Addie leaned closer to the mirror. Her curls weren’t cooperating. The summer heat sent them frizzing into a ball around her head. Nothing would tame them at this point.

  Why did her hair always have to misbehave on the days she most wanted to make an impression? This was her first time meeting any of Keevan’s family. Lady Brandiline was the daughter of a lord. Would she think Addie too undignified to be a princess? Would she be able to tell Addie had been born a scullery maid just by looking at her?

  Keevan’s footsteps paused in the doorway. “You look beautiful.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m six months pregnant, and my hair is doing its best to touch the ceiling.” Addie held out a length of leather cord. “I think it’s going to take two of us to tie it back.”

  Keevan took the cord and strode behind her. While Addie held her hair with both hands, he wrapped the cord around her hair and knotted it tightly. “There. Is it too tight?”

  “No, it’s perfect.” Addie let go of her hair, and grimaced at herself in the mirror. The knot might be perfect, but she wasn’t. Her face shone wet and sweaty with the heat, her hair frizzed above and below the cord, and she couldn’t walk without a slight waddle to her step. “Do you think she’ll like me?”

  Keevan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. “She’ll love you. She’s mad at me, but she’ll like you, I’m sure.”

  He buried his face in her hair, as if he found her sweaty, frizzy hair attractive. Go figure.

  There was no accounting for taste, and she wasn’t much better. After all, she found his scratchy, raspy voice attractive when almost everyone else cringed when he talked.

  Stepping back, Keevan held out his arm and steadied her as they lumbered from the room and eased down the stairs. Instead of going into the meeting room, they entered the opposite door to the kitchen and dining room.

  Lady Brandiline already slouched in a chair by the table, her red-blond hair in a braid
down her back and her arms crossed. A boy sat in the chair beside her, shoulders and head hunched so much Addie couldn’t see his eyes through his mop of wavy brown hair.

  As they closed the door behind them, Lady Brandiline jabbed a finger at the boy next to her and glared at Keevan. “This is Jamie. He’s a…a Blade trainee. I invited him, so you can’t toss him out or lock him up or anything.”

  Beside Addie, Keevan stiffened.

  Addie forced herself to smile. It would be up to her to ease the tension. Somehow. She tugged Keevan a step closer to the table. How should she introduce herself? As Princess Adelaide? Even after a year and a half, the title still seemed too new, too formal. “I’m Addie. I married your cousin. Welcome to Eagle Heights, Brandiline, and I’m glad you and your friend could be here.”

  Brandiline huffed and scowled. “It’s Brandi.”

  Keevan held out a chair, and Addie eased onto it. Keevan hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said his cousin was mad at him. Furious would’ve been a better word.

  But something about Brandi relaxed the tension in Addie’s chest. This wasn’t the pretentious daughter of a nobleman who would expect Addie to act with the decorum befitting a princess. The girl before her had already tossed decorum out the window.

  “Of course. Brandi. That’s so much better than Brandiline, isn’t it? My name is Adelaide, but I’d rather go by Addie. It fits me better.” Addie’s smile wasn’t forced this time. She had two little sisters of her own. She could handle Brandi.

  Brandi swung her gaze to Addie, something about her posture softening. “When people call me Brandiline, they look at me like they expect me to wear frilly pink dresses with lots of lace and act lady-like and stuff like that. Not that pink is a bad color on its own, but not when it’s all fancied up.”

  Addie grinned. She and Brandi would get along just fine.

  It was like seeing Aunt Annita as a child. Keevan cut into his portion of venison roast, letting Addie keep up most of the conversation with Brandi.