With Renna safely away from the block, Leith stepped down from the battlements and dropped his knives. They clattered against the stones, sounding like the clanking of the chains that would soon clamp around his wrists. He laced his fingers together and placed them on top of his head. He glanced at the soldiers lining the wall top.
The soldiers stared back. Leith resisted the urge to grin. Even now, the soldiers feared him. He might be a disgraced Blade, but he’d once been the First Blade.
Swallowing, one soldier drew his sword. He motioned to the trap door set in the top of the tower.
Leith raised his eyebrow. Surely the soldier didn’t want him taking his hands off his head to open the trap door himself.
Another soldier scurried to the trap door, opened it, and drew his sword. Leith eased past him and trudged down the spiral staircase, two of the soldiers following close behind him.
They marched him across the cobblestone courtyard, into the passageway between courtyards, and turned left to the wooden bridge spanning the dry moat to the Blades’ Tower.
As Leith stepped onto the end of the bridge, Martyn exited the door of the Tower and strode toward him. The soldiers remained at the far end.
Leith and Martyn halted a few paces from each other. A silence stretched between them. What could Leith say? He’d done too much. Betrayed Martyn. Tore their friendship apart.
Martyn’s face remained as hard as the stones of the Blades’ Tower behind him.
Leith walked ahead of Martyn into the Tower. Its darkness swallowed him. He glanced over his shoulder and caught one last glimpse of sunlight before the door shut behind them. Would Leith ever set foot outside this Tower again?
After crossing the empty common room, Leith marched up the spiraling stairs. His boots scuffed against each stone tread. By the time they reached the fourth floor, the muscles in Leith’s calves burned. His heart thundered, though he couldn’t blame it all on exertion.
One more flight of stairs.
Leith climbed the last set of steps and strode into the meeting room. Candles glowed on the two candlesticks spaced along the table. Fifth Blade Daas glared, his mouth twisting into a sneer. Eighth Blade Harding ducked his head.
At the far end of the table, Respen lounged in his throne, his fingers stroking the end of the armrest.
Martyn closed the door and slid the bolt into place, locking them in. Leith fought the shiver traveling down his arms. Could he hold his steel during the coming torture?
Slowly, Leith undid the buckles of the leather straps crossing his chest, the belt around his waist, and the sheaths of his boot knives. The chip of rock Brandi had given him remained safely hidden in the toe of his boot. Even if Martyn decided to search him, he probably wouldn’t deem it a threat. Leith handed his weapons to Martyn.
Martyn set them aside and pulled out a length of rope. Leith held out his wrists. This was now the second time in less than a month that one of his friends had tied his hands. Though unlike Shad, Martyn tied the rope plenty tight.
Martyn shoved Leith forward and forced him to kneel in front of Respen. The familiar stone floor pressed against Leith’s knees. He’d knelt like this too many times over the years. Too many times, Respen pronounced him successful.
Lunging forward, Respen’s fingers jabbed into Leith’s chin and dragged his head up. Leith met Respen’s burning gaze. As a submissive Blade, he’d never spoken to Respen unless bidden, but this time he didn’t wait for Respen to speak first. “When you kill me, I want you to know that I don’t fear you. My God is stronger than fear.”
Respen’s fingers tightened like a hawk’s talons digging into its prey. “Even now, you still cling to your drivel.”
Leith didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
Respen leaned back and drew one of his knives. Switching his grip, he smashed the pommel into Leith’s face.
Pain burst along Leith’s jaw. The room tilted. His shoulder smashed against the floor. Sucking in a breath past the pain, he worked his jaw. Not broken.
A hand on his shirt yanked him back to his knees. Martyn tugged up Leith’s left sleeve, exposing the two white lines already marring the top of his shoulder.
“My traitorous Blade, you have failed.” Respen sliced the knife across Leith’s shoulder below the other two marks.
Three failures. The mark of death.
“First Blade, prepare him for a whipping.”
Martyn hauled Leith to his feet and dragged him across the room to the pair of manacles dangling from the wall. He locked the manacles around Leith’s forearms beside the rope that bound his wrists together.
As he checked the tightness of the rope, Martyn held something out to Leith’s face, the movement shielded from the other Blades by Martyn’s body. “Bite.”
Leith bit the piece of leather. Why was Martyn giving him that much courtesy? He should’ve let Leith either grind his teeth together or cry out at the pain that was coming. But Martyn’s hard face and eyes gave nothing away.
Martyn gripped the collar of Leith’s shirt. The cold steel of his knife whispered against the back of Leith’s neck and spine as Martyn sliced downward. Cold air prickled along Leith’s exposed skin.
Leith craned his neck to see over his shoulder as Martyn returned to his seat on Respen’s right. Would Respen order Martyn to do the whipping? Or perhaps Fifth Blade Daas, who leaned forward and flexed his fingers. Maybe he’d force Ranson to do it.
Respen held out a coiled whip. “First Blade, execute his punishment.”
Of course it’d be Martyn. Leith would have to take this whipping at the hand of his former best friend. A cruelty for both of them.
For a moment, Martyn stared at the whip. Was he thinking about refusing?
Martyn’s back and shoulders stiffened as if reinforced with an extra layer of stone. He stood and took the whip. “How many lashes, my king?”
“The same number given to you as your punishment.”
A bitter taste rose in Leith’s throat. Martyn had been whipped. That had been his punishment when Leith had escaped with Brandi. No wonder Martyn didn’t refuse this duty now. This whipping was no more than Leith deserved for abandoning Martyn.
His expression as icy as a winter wind, Martyn strode forward and stopped a few feet behind Leith. The whip uncoiled. The three braided and knotted ends slapped the floor.
Leith turned his face away and pressed his forehead to the wall. If Martyn could take a whipping, then he could too. Whatever pain the next moments brought, he wouldn’t scream. He couldn’t make this any harder on Martyn than it already was.
The whip cracked. Half a heartbeat later, lines of pain seared Leith’s back. His muscles cramped. A cry built in his chest. He clamped his teeth on the piece of leather so tightly the bruise on his jaw throbbed.
Another lash. Then another. He didn’t bother counting. He could trust Martyn to give him no more and no less than the amount ordered.
The knotted ends tore like the claws of a mountain lion, shredding the skin from his back. Agony lanced deeper into his body with every blow, searing, tearing.
He mustn’t cry out. No matter how much pain bottled inside his chest begging for release, he wouldn’t give in. It was all he could do to remember to drag in another breath.
Another lash. Another. Lines of pain tore away his skin.
How much longer could this go on? Leith trembled. How many lashes had Martyn suffered?
His head spun. Blackness filled his vision. Was it from squeezing his eyes shut or unconsciousness threatening to take him?
Martyn was there beside him, undoing the chains that cut into his wrists. Leith’s legs buckled. He fell onto his hands and knees.
His hands. He stared at his fingers splayed against the floor. When had his hands been untied? Martyn must’ve done it. Had Leith blacked out there at the end?
Leith spat the piece of leather onto the floor. Dents marred the leather from each of his teeth. He glanced around the room. Respen’s chair and th
e long table were empty.
Martyn knelt and tugged one of Leith’s arms over his shoulders. He half-dragged, half-carried Leith across the room and down the stairs. Leith tried to force his feet to keep up, but his spinning head couldn’t seem to get his muscles to cooperate. Something hot and wet trickled down his arms. Blood.
As they passed the door to the First Blade’s room, the door rattled and thumped. “Let me see him!”
Renna was here. Alive. Leith should call out to her, but he wasn’t sure words or a cry of pain would escape if he opened his mouth. Martyn opened the door to the Second Blade’s room and hauled him inside.
Leith collapsed into a sitting position on the cot. Pain shot through each limb and nerve. If only he could lie down and rest, but he had to remain strong for a little longer. How was he ever going to survive a week of Respen’s torture? Not that he had a choice at this point. He had to bear it until rescue or death, whichever came first.
Martyn paced to the far side of the room, cursed, and slapped his hand against the wall. “Why? Why didn’t you just stay away? Then neither of us would be forced to go through this.”
“I’m sorry.” Leith gripped the edge of the cot to hold himself upright. He choked in a breath. “I couldn’t abandon Renna. Or you. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you.”
“You have no idea what I’ve gone through.” Martyn clenched his fists. “I was alone. When Respen finished the whipping, he unchained me and left. He didn’t even send the one remaining trainee to help. I had to crawl down the stairs to my room. I had no one.”
Leith squeezed his eyes shut. The pain in Martyn’s voice ached worse than the agony crackling across his back. He’d betrayed his friend. Stabbed him in the back. Abandoned him.
And in Martyn’s eyes, that abandonment cut worst of all.
Leith couldn’t take away that pain or undo it. “I’m sorry.”
Martyn leaned against the wall, his back rigid.
Renna’s continued pounding filled the room. “Martyn Hamish, you let me see him. You owe me that much.”
Leith tipped his head at the wall separating the Second and First Blades’ rooms, nearly falling over with the dizziness that slight action caused. His voice sounded far away in a passageway of pain. “What’s Renna doing in the Tower?”
“Respen had me move her shortly after you left. He feared you’d find rescuing her from the dungeon too easy.” Martyn shook his head and drew his fingers through his hair. “She noticed I was injured. She tended my back.”
Warmth curled in Leith’s chest. Even though Martyn was the reason she’d been forced to stay behind, Renna had still helped him. Respen hadn’t managed to steal her compassion from her.
Renna’s door banged so loudly Leith felt the vibration through the floor stones. Had Renna thrown herself against the door?
Martyn straightened. “I’d better go fetch her before she draws any more attention to herself.”
“You’ll let her help me?”
Martyn paused with his hand on the door. “I am your friend. Even if it counts for very little at the moment.”
Leith let his shoulders sag. As bad as the torture would be, he wouldn’t want to be in Martyn’s boots for anything.
With a deep breath, Leith pushed himself to his feet, only to collapse. His knees struck the stone floor, sending shafts of pain into his toes. He nearly retched at the agony burning through every inch of his back.
He couldn’t stay on the floor. He needed to be strong for Renna, if only for the first few moments. She’d see him weak and broken later.
Pushing himself to his feet took all he had. He rested a hand against the wall, gasping. He straightened the remains of his shirt to hide the blood trickling down his arms. Surely he could stand for a few minutes.
Renna flew into the room. Her hair frizzed from its coil on her head, and she wore the same blue shirt and buckskin skirt she’d worn last time he’d seen her. He searched her face but didn’t see any cuts or bruises. She stood steadily on her feet and didn’t move like someone recovering from a beating. He let out a shuddering breath. Thankfully, it didn’t look like Respen had hurt her.
Though there were other, deeper ways she could’ve been hurt that Leith wouldn’t be able to tell at a glance.
“Leith.” She touched his jaw, her finger brushing the bruise left by Respen’s knife. “How bad are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” He caught her hand and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. The trickle of blood coursed around his elbow and down his arm. He lifted their clasped hands to keep the blood hidden under his shirt. He wasn’t quite ready to admit how wounded he was. “I promised I’d return for you. Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She met and held his gaze.
He searched her eyes. He saw steel there, stronger than it had been before. Whatever she’d gone through, he wasn’t looking at the same Renna he’d left behind. He forced his sore jaw into a smile. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t bring any cake or maple sugar cookies or presents.”
“I don’t care about that. I’m just glad you’re here.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.
His breath seized at her touch, her nearness, and the pain spasming across his back when her arms brushed the torn skin. He couldn’t swallow his moan.
She stiffened and held up her hands. Blood shone on her sleeve and fingers. With a firm hand on his shoulder, she turned him and peered at his back. “What are you doing still standing? Lie down.”
Based on the black spots gathering at the corners of his eyes, Leith’s body was going to do that in a moment whether or not he wanted to. He eased onto the cot, collapsing the last few inches when his strength gave out. So much for being strong.
“What do you need?” Martyn set a candle on the nightstand next to the one already burning. The light flickering on his face left deep shadows below his eyes.
Renna’s shoulders straightened. “I’ll need water. Both boiling water and cold water, as cold as you can get it. Clean linen for bandages. Some kind of salve.”
Martyn slipped from the room. Had he taken the time to lock the door? Leith couldn’t remember hearing the lock, but he didn’t have the strength to escape. Nor was that part of the plan.
Renna knelt next to the cot. The candlelight played across her face, highlighting her round cheeks and the faint shadows beneath her eyes. “I have so much to tell you.”
What had she been through? Leith threaded his fingers through hers. Her hands were cold. A little damp. The contact felt strange and new, like the first hint of green after the snow melts. Once before he’d dared hold her hand like this, and that had been right before he’d been forced to leave her behind.
He cleared his throat. “Listen, before Martyn gets back. There’s a loose stone in the wall between our rooms. There’s a shard of rock holding it in place. You’ll have to take it out so we can talk after Martyn leaves.”
She nodded. “I found it when I was first brought to the room.”
“Good.” Had she found the knife he’d hidden in that room months ago when he’d become First Blade? They could talk about knives and plans later. Right now, while he had the opportunity to hold her hand and see her face, he had other things to say.
If only he didn’t have to place more of a burden on her. Zed Burin, the last failed Blade, had been reduced to a whimpering, bleeding mess by the time Respen finished with him. That’s what Respen would try to do to Leith.
He squeezed her hand. “Respen will torture me, and I don’t know if I can be strong enough for both of us. I’m going to need you to be strong, all right?”
Renna held his gaze, her back straight. “God will be strong enough for both of us.”
Leith waited for some sign of crumbling, but he didn’t see it. The strength he’d seen in her all those months ago had been refined and hardened. Perhaps she would be strong enough to face this next week alongside him.
A good thing, since he wasn’t sure he’d have the
strength to face it on his own.
He shoved those thoughts aside. He had another pressing question to ask. “You nearly married Respen?”
She ducked her head and toyed with the end of her blouse with her free hand. “He promised he’d stop the persecution. I thought he might change, and you were dead. I didn’t know what to do.” She blinked and pressed their linked fingers to her cheek.
Respen had hurt her. Lied to her. If Leith got the chance, he might smash his fist into Respen’s jaw for that.
He struggled to shove the heat deep into his chest. Renna didn’t need his anger. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I know. I just…” She rested her forehead on the edge of the cot. Her voice dropped until Leith could barely hear her. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve married him. If maybe that’s what I was supposed to do. Maybe I could’ve made a difference.”
“No.” Leith tightened his grip on her hand. He drew in a deep breath to steady his heartbeat. Renna needed him to come up with something comforting, not harsh. “Respen is deceptive. He twists the truth until you aren’t sure what to believe. You’ve already made a difference by showing kindness to those around you. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“Really?” Renna lifted her face. Her eyes were wet.
“Yes.” Leith leaned forward, bit back a cry of pain, and pressed a kiss into her hair. “Thank you for helping Martyn after his whipping.”
Her eyes rounded, and her jaw dropped open, like she couldn’t believe he’d just done that. He couldn’t either.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. Two sets of footsteps. Leith raised his head as Martyn stepped into the room, carrying a pitcher in each hand. Ranson followed him, balancing a tray laden with several bowls, stacks of bandages and rags, and a jar of salve.
Ranson glanced toward Leith before he ducked his head, set the tray on the bedside table, and hurried from the room.
What would’ve happened if Leith had stopped Ranson Harding and Blane Altin from becoming Blades the way he’d rescued Jamie? If he’d had the courage to step in and prevent that first kill?
Defy (The Blades of Acktar Book 3) Page 21