by Ford, Lizzy
Or … somewhere else completely? The plains stretched for at least a thousand miles, if not more. He could not imagine where his sister could have gone. She had no sense of direction, no knowledge about the geography of what lay beyond the city, aside from what he occasionally taught her of the world.
He was able to look behind him and at his feet and nowhere else, so he focused instead on his clothing. At first, he had assumed he wore the sleeping gown he always saw Tiana in. It was hard to focus in the dream, especially when he was trying to run away from a bounty hunter sent to kill him. He managed to tune in to his clothing and realized it was a pale blue dress, thicker than a sleeping gown but far simpler in design than any Tiana had worn for official events. Soft, leather moccasins were on her feet. Her hair was down, as it often was, and her soft blonde curls bounced with each step.
The dress was not the only difference he noticed this time; a bracelet wound around Tiana’s wrist, consisting of colorful beads accentuating a central, flat stone. He squinted to make out the marking on the stone. Not words, but a picture etched in stone …
From behind, someone grabbed his shoulder. He was yanked out of the dream.
Arthur lurched awake, his instincts blaring and his senses alert. The soothing crackle of the fire was the only sound in his tent. He trusted his otherworldly instincts, as unnatural as they were. At the moment, they warned him of danger. He lay still without being able to pinpoint what threat lurked in his tent.
“Do not move,” Warner whispered from somewhere behind him. “Do not even blink.”
Arthur stared at the ceiling, trusting his friend. Warner was silent in whatever he did. From his peripheral, Arthur spotted another of the trusted members of his inner circle, a man his age named Henri. Henri was creeping forward stealthily, his eyes pinned to something near Arthur’s leg he was unable to see.
“One. Two. Three.” Warner counted.
Three of Arthur’s friends pounced when Warner uttered the last number. Arthur held his breath. Simultaneously, the three of them stabbed downwards with knives into the ground around Arthur’s body: Warner near Arthur’s head, Henri beside his left leg and Sayed beside his right arm. Arthur glimpsed the writhing of snake bodies in response to the strikes and remained in place. His friends lifted their targets one by one.
“Rattlers,” Henri said, holding the snake run through by the blade of his knife.
Arthur sat up. Each of his grim friends had killed one of the snakes. He looked around, but his unusual instincts whispered that the danger was gone.
“Sayed saw Marshall Cruise leaving your tent,” Warner said and flung the snake out the door of the tent.
Better Marshall than Black Leg. Arthur thought with wry amusement.
“Not completely unexpected,” he said and climbed to his feet. “Matilda’s family has long sought to usurp mine. I am only surprised he did not wait until we were farther from the city. He did not strike me as dumb before this night.” As he spoke, his thoughts went to his sister. Did Marshall act alone or with the permission of his family? Was this the first step in a coup or an isolated incident? “Warner, Henri, Sayed,” he said to his friends. “I owe you all a life debt.” He smiled warmly at them.
“You would have done the same for any of us,” Henri replied. “We can teach Marshall a lesson for you, if you wish it.”
I want him dead. Arthur was quiet. With the dream of the skinwalker chasing him fresh, and his adrenaline lit by the danger, he knew better than to speak the words forefront in his thoughts. For all he knew, Marshall was the one who would hire – or had hired – the skinwalker to kill Tiana.
Murdering the brother of his stepmother without a trial and his father’s permission would cause his father a political headache. Matilda and Marshall’s father was the wealthiest man in Lost Vegas from an ambitious family; it was foolish to believe they had no support or allies among the elite.
A hunting accident, however, was completely explainable. Arthur’s father would not object either way to the death of someone threatening his heir, but it was easier for others to accept a hunting accident than vengeance. It was expected only half Arthur’s men would return, and he could invent a tale that made it sound like Marshall had died with honor rather than being poisoned or killed in a duel, as Arthur planned.
“I will handle it,” he said quietly. “Henri, leave before dawn. Return to the city and warn my father to be wary.”
Henri nodded. “I will leave immediately.”
“Sayed, skin and cook the snakes. Make sure Marshall receives more than his fair share at breakfast,” Arthur said with a smile. “Do not look so grim, my friends! I am alive and our hunt is just beginning! It promises to be an eventful few weeks.”
Warner shook his head. “Have you no fear, Arthur?”
“None,” Arthur replied. At least, not when it comes to my own life. His sister’s was an entirely different matter.
He listened to his friends banter for a moment, his thoughts on the dream. With some satisfaction, he realized he had not seen Aveline in his dreams this night. When he sent bounty hunters after Black Leg, would the native, too, disappear when no longer a threat?
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