Allon's reaction surprised Ilanna. She'd come here expecting smug satisfaction, outrage at his plans being foiled, even arrogance. But guilt? That, she hadn't anticipated.
"And you never thought that they'd try to burn the house with me in it?"
"I wouldn't let them." Allon wiped a dribble of vomit from his lips. "They wanted to deal with you personally, but I made them agree to turn you over to the Duke."
Ilanna snorted. "Because Duke Phonnis and I are best pals. He'd have invited me over for tea and biscuits."
"No, he'd have placed you on trial. But I know you, Ilanna. You never left proof of your presence—at least not where any guard or nobleman could see. Only a thief would know how you got in and out. Hells, half the time even I didn't know."
Ilanna's eyes narrowed. She'd often suspected someone was watching her traverse the city. Though she'd shrugged it off as her Guild-bred paranoia, someone had watched her. Allon had used his forged notes to send her to the homes of the nobles under the Crown's protection. Which means he had to have gone in after her and stolen something visible, then sent those items to Filch in her name. It explained how the fence had the stubs proving delivery of those items.
"It sounds insane," Allon said, "but a trial was a far better fate than what the Bloody Hand had in store for you."
"You said that already," Ilanna replied in a cold, hard voice. "That doesn't absolve you of the guilt for your actions."
"I know!" A pleading light filled Allon's eyes. "But I couldn't let them hurt you. And after what you did to their men in Voramis, they were coming after you with everything they had. They focused all their hatred of Master Gold and his resistance on you. And by the time I realized what they were going to do, it was too late."
"By the time you realized?" Ilanna's eyebrows shot up. "You're the one who hired Toll and Melinn to burn down Old Town Market. How could you not connect those dots?"
Allon's gaze dropped. "They had already threatened your life. I made them see that burning down your house would send you a clear message. But I swear on the Watcher's name I never would have done it had I known…" The sickly color returned to his face.
"You thought I needed protecting." Ilanna's jaw clenched. "If you were worried about my life, why not simply tell me? Keeper take it, Allon, you could have told me the truth!"
"And what would that have accomplished?" The Hound shook his head. "You would have kicked me off the crew, and the Bloody Hand would have found someone else to get at you. As long as I was on your crew, they let you alone, with my promise that I would get you out of the way."
"A promise you tried to keep more than once, and that got Willem killed!"
"I would have let a dozen Willems die, Ilanna. With the Duke's money, we could have—"
"There is no we, Allon!" Ilanna's shout echoed off the rafters. "There was never a 'we'."
Pain contorted Allon's face. "Don't say that, Ilanna! You don't mean it." Desperation filled his voice. "I know it started out as just something fun, but I know it turned into more. We were so good together—you can't deny that what we had was special. I…I love you, Ilanna!"
Ilanna bared her teeth in a vicious snarl. "I never felt anything for you. You were a tool that served a purpose. I put up with your groping hands and revolting grunting because of that. But you were never special."
"You...used me?" Tears brimmed in Allon's eyes. "But those things you said—"
"A lie!" Ilanna felt a grim satisfaction. Suffer, you bastard! You destroyed everything I loved. Now you will know how it feels. "You were useful for getting the deed to my house, and earning Master Hawk's goodwill. He loved you, and you killed him!"
Allon reeled beneath the force of her words. "It should never have happened!" he shouted. "They promised he'd live."
"You bargained with the devil, Allon," Ilanna snarled. "The Bloody Hand never intended to keep their word. Not to you, not to—"
With a scream of rage, Allon leapt upon her. His left hand closed around her throat and he shoved her into a nearby stack of crates. The blade in his right hand hovered a finger's breadth from her throat.
"Shut up!" A manic light filled his eyes. "Shut up! Shut up!"
Ilanna cried out at the agony in her chest. A twinge of pain ran down her spine, but she met Allon's eyes without hesitation. "Do it, Allon!" she coughed. "Kill me. You already killed my son, my friends, Master Hawk, everyone. Put an end to it here and now. You'll finally get what you want."
"No!" A horrible moaning sob tore from Allon's throat. "I never wanted this! I never wanted Master Hound dead, or my uncle, or anyone else. I just wanted my father to suffer for what he did to me."
"Did he know?" Ilanna spoke in a quiet voice, struggling to ignore her pain. "Did Master Hawk know who you were?"
Allon shook his head. "No." Tears streamed down his face. "He thought my mother, his sister, was still at the palace until after she died. I…I couldn't tell him the truth." Shame burned in his eyes.
Allon had kept the secret for more than thirty years, and it had twisted him into this angry, bitter, pathetic husk of a man. He had brought sorrow and misery not just to the Night Guild, but to the city of Praamis.
"I'm sorry!" Allon sobbed. "So sorry." A wild light filled his eyes. "You have to help me, Ilanna."
She winced as his jerking motions pressed the dagger harder against her neck.
His expression grew manic. "Yes, you can help me! You defeated the Duke, you saved the Night Guild. They'll listen to you. You can make them understand what I did."
"What you did?" Ilanna swallowed the acid rising to her throat. Her skin crawled at his touch. "What you did was kill the only people in this world that truly cared about me."
"But I care about you." Allon pressed himself against her, his face dangerously close to hers. "You have to know that. You have to see—"
The pain overwhelmed Ilanna. She reacted as Errik had taught her: her elbow coming across to strike the side of Allon's neck, her fist driving into his solar plexus. She hit him with every shred of strength she had left. Allon staggered backward, caught himself, and lunged for her again. He suddenly flew to the side, as if jerked by an invisible hand, and collapsed with a groan. Ilanna let out her breath and pressed a hand to her neck. A trickle of blood leaked from the wound left by Allon's dagger.
Straightening her clothes, she walked over to the prone Hound and crouched beside him. Her eyes went to the crimson-stained steel tip of the crossbow bolt protruding from his side. The flaccidity in his legs told her the bolt had severed his spine.
A grim satisfaction spread through Ilanna. Allon had been the cause of so much pain. He'd tried to have her captured and executed by the Duke, framed for murder and larceny, and turned over to the Bloody Hand. She had no doubt he'd been the one to identify her crew to the Voramians—how else would Rhynd have known who to haul away? Besides, Rhynd had left before the Duke's raid. She had told only Errik and Allon of her intentions.
She'd suspected then, but the final piece of the puzzle had fallen into place when she realized that Allon was the artist behind the image of her. He'd confirmed it the night he'd cut her free: his neck and wrists hadn't borne the bruises and abrasion left by the chains worn by the others.
It didn't matter that his actions had saved her life. The balance had been tipped too far against him.
His eyes were wide. "Help…me!" he gasped.
The pleading in Allon's eyes had no effect on her. He'd played her from the beginning—even before he knew her. His relationship with her had given him access to her room to leave the notes. He'd camouflaged his true purpose in House Hawk by pretending to befriend Denber. Perhaps he'd even played a role in her friend's capture.
He'd forged the notes, deceived her about his stance on the Bloody Hand's offer, and sent the Bloody Hand to burn down her house with her son and Ria in it. He deserved every moment of suffering.
"I am." Her voice could have frozen molten steel. "The Guild would have subjected you to th
e Sanction. This is mercy, and a fate far better than the one you would have offered me."
"You…can't…do this!" Allon's breathing had grown labored. "The Guild…will never…convict me. No…evidence."
"I know. Which is why this is how it has to be." The Guild had done nothing to punish Sabat; she couldn't let Allon get away with what he'd done. His actions had led to too much death and suffering for him to evade punishment because of a lack of evidence. She wouldn't risk it, even if it meant dealing with him herself. Gods knew she had blood enough on her hands. His death wouldn't add to her burden.
His hand fumbled for his dagger, but Ilanna pried it from his weakening fingers. Biting down on the flare of pain in her chest, she drove the blade into his ribs. Steel sliced through flesh and muscle with horrendous ease. Allon's struggles stilled and he fought for each breath. Panic, horror, and fear mingled in his expression.
Ilanna met his gaze. "Be at peace, Allon."
The light dimmed and faded from his eyes. With a final rasp, his muscles relaxed, the tension drained from his face, and he moved no more.
Despite her anger, Ilanna felt an odd sense of sorrow mixed with her relief. She'd thought Allon's death would bring satisfaction; it only left her feeling hollow, oddly melancholy. Traitor he might have been, yet also something akin to a friend.
His death left one fewer person in the world to care what happened to her. People in her orbit seemed to die: Ethen, Denber, the twins, Master Hawk. Even Veslund, the Fox who had served in her crew, had died because of her. Allon's desire to protect her had saved her life in the end, but cost him his.
Her legs felt suddenly weak, and she slumped to the ground beside him. Tears threatened—not for the fallen Hound, but for everything else she'd lost. Too much. The weight of sorrow pressed against her chest, cutting off her breath. With effort, she swallowed the lump in her throat and wiped the moisture from her cheeks.
It didn't help. Everything she'd endured in the last few weeks had taken a toll on her. She had nothing left.
A soft-soled boot scraped on the stone floor behind her. "Is it done?" Errik asked.
Ilanna nodded without looking up. Her head felt too heavy to lift. She just wanted to sit here and let the world pass her by.
The Serpent's hand rested on her shoulder. "You were wrong, you know."
His words caught her off-guard. She lifted her face to him. "About what?"
The swelling around Errik's eyes had diminished, but the bruises remained a mottled yellow, purple, and blue. He looked as tired as Ilanna felt, with a pained hunch to his shoulders. His ragged clothing hung from once-strong shoulders gone gaunt and bony. His right arm was cradled to his chest, and with his left he held a crossbow over his shoulders.
"What you said to him." Errik indicated Allon's corpse with a thrust of his chin. "He didn't kill all the people in the world who care."
The words, spoken in a voice of quiet calm, brought a lump to Ilanna's throat. She closed her eyes and let out a long, ragged breath. The burden of sorrow slowly lifted from her shoulders.
Groaning at the agony in her chest, she stood and gripped Errik's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend. For everything."
He nodded. "Want me to take care of him? I can make him disappear forever."
Ilanna shook her head. "No. He deserves a different fate."
Chapter Forty-Seven
Ilanna ignored the burn in her shoulders and forearms, but the pain of her fractured sternum threatened to steal her breath. Yet she refused to stop moving. She pushed the handcart to the clearing in the heart of the Menagerie. A sheet covered its lifeless burden.
She hadn't wanted to return to the Night Guild. She had no doubt they would want her head for what she'd done. She regretted nothing. The Bloody Hand had left her no choice. But she wouldn't expect the Guild to understand that. They had all lost friends and comrades. Of course they would blame her. For the raid on the Guild, for the Duke's executions.
She wouldn't deny them their anger. If they needed someone to focus it on, she'd bear the burden. But she had to face the Guild Council—hastily assembled as it may be—and stand for her actions. She had earned her freedom from the Night Guild. She had come to claim her freedom, as promised by Master Gold and the former Council. After today, she never needed to worry about the Guild's anger. With the money she had hidden away, she could leave Praamis and start a new life.
Stifling a groan, she set the handcart down and turned to face the six figures seated in the chairs of the House Masters. In the bright torchlight of the Menagerie, Errik's bruises made his face appear pale and skull-like. Bryden whispered into the ear of Journeyman Tyman, the healer nominated to act as Master Scorpion.
Master Grubber raised an eyebrow. "Journeyman Ilanna of House Hawk, considering what you have done, I will admit surprise to see you here."
Ilanna held her head high. "I come to bid farewell to one of the Night Guild's own." She twitched aside the sheet. The assembled Night Guild gasped at the sight of Allon's pale, lifeless face.
Verianna, one of the few remaining Hounds let out a choked sob. She numbered among the women of the Night Guild who would mourn Allon's death. Ilanna did not.
"Master Hound has fallen," Ilanna intoned. "The Long Keeper has gathered our comrade into his arms, where he will know peace forever more."
Eden, the Fox chosen for House Master, leaned back in her chair. "How did it happen?" She narrowed her eyes. "What was your part in his death?"
Dark mutterings ran among the Journeymen gathered behind the Masters' chairs.
Ilanna spoke without hesitation. "He threw himself in the way of a crossbow bolt meant for me." She rested a hand on the crossbow beside Allon's body.
"That is a Serpent weapon, is it not?" Septin cast a glance at Errik.
The Serpent nodded. "Stolen by Rhynd's thugs as they fled the Guild, no doubt." He shook his head, his expression somber. "Truly a sorrow that it was used against one of our own. And a House Master at that."
The sorrow on his face hid the anger simmering inside him. The moment Ilanna left the palace, she'd sought out the Serpent and explained everything to him. He hadn't wanted to believe her. It had taken her over an hour to convince him of Allon's guilt. He'd only agreed to help her after she swore she'd do nothing unless Allon incriminated himself. Yet when he'd crept into the warehouse after Allon, he'd heard the words from the Hound's lips. His hand had held the crossbow that killed Allon, and he'd helped Ilanna concoct the story. He understood that they did what needed to be done.
"But he died saving the Night Guild." Ilanna's voice rang out with strength that surprised her. "He saved my life and, because of him, the Bloody Hand will never sink their fangs into Praamis."
It was only partially a lie. Allon had saved her life when he untied the ropes holding her bound, and again when he tackled Rhynd in the warehouse. It didn't matter that his actions had led to the Bloody Hand's rise in the first place—in the end, he had played a part in saving the Night Guild.
A Hound Journeyman whose name she couldn't remember stepped forward. "House Hound will see to his burial."
Ilanna nodded and moved aside. As the Hound wheeled away the handcart, Bryden turned to the empty white- and red-cushioned seats of House Hound and House Bloodbear. "Who will act in the place of Masters Hound and Bloodbear until such a time as a proper House Master can be elected?"
After a few minutes of deliberation, a Hound by the name of Shaw was pushed forward. He took a seat without a word. The Bloodbear who stepped forward was unfamiliar to her. Eyes downcast, face burning, he slid into his chair and refused to look at any of his fellow House Masters.
The handful of Bloodbears that had survived the Duke's raid on the Night Guild and the executions huddled in a corner of the room. Once the second most numerous House in the Guild—after House Fox—only a mere two dozen of House Bloodbear remained. The Journeymen of Houses Scorpion, Grubber, and Serpent cast baleful glances at the strong-arms. If the Guild Council did
n't intervene, Ilanna doubted the brutish Bloodbears would survive the week. Most Journeymen and apprentices blamed the Bloodbears as much as they blamed her.
Ilanna studied the crowd gathered behind the House Masters' chairs. The Menagerie looked so empty. More than fifty had fallen in the Bloody Hand's raid on the tunnels. Scores more had died as the Duke drove out the Bloody Hand—mostly Hounds and Bloodbears, but far too many Foxes and Grubbers. The Duke had executed close to two dozen before she could bargain for their freedom. Less than one-quarter of the Night Guild remained alive. Of those still standing, most were tyros and apprentices barely old enough to shave. The ranks of Guild Journeymen had been drastically culled. And it was her fault.
Yet one face in particular brought relief surging within Ilanna's chest. Dark bags hung beneath Jarl's eyes and dried blood stained the bandage around his chest, but he gave her a reassuring smile. She clung to that for dear life. She needed allies for what she knew came next.
Bryden stood, his face a mask as cold and lifeless as granite. "Journeyman Ilanna of House Hawk, will you answer for your actions?"
Ilanna's gut tightened, but she answered in a clear voice. "I will."
Bryden turned to the seated House Masters. "If none of you object, I will speak for the Guild Council." When none protested, he drew in a deep breath. "When last you stood before the Night Guild, you were accused of murder and larceny, is that correct?"
"It is. And I was acquitted of murder."
"Indeed, you were." Bryden inclined his head. "Yet you were convicted of larceny, of theft from the Night Guild."
"A conviction based on forgeries."
"Have you discovered the identity of the forger?"
Ilanna hesitated. If she answered yes, she would have to reveal Allon's guilt. But if she didn't, the conviction of larceny would stand. She would still face the Sanction.
After a moment, she shook her head. "I have not."
Allon didn't deserve a hero's death, but something within Ilanna knew he didn't deserve to be remembered as a traitor either. She and Errik knew the truth, but Allon would be remembered as just another casualty in the war for Praamis. A tragic culmination to the story of a royal bastard abandoned and condemned to a life of crime. But years of harsh experience had taught her happy endings didn't exist. She would give Allon the farewell he'd have wanted.
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