by L. J. Stock
When the afternoon war cry came from the ridge of the crater, I almost cringed as the whole palace kicked into action around us. I could hear the trample of feet as the guards headed toward the arc to defend the palace. We were all left with skeleton guards when they moved out, and I could hear Rasmus on the other side of the door getting irritable at being left behind.
“I'm going to get a better view of the ridge,” I said quietly.
No one argued with me as I headed to the door. They knew better than to try to stop me. I wasn't one for throwing around my authority, but no one really questioned my use of sovereignty either. Unless of course my mom was completely against what I was trying to achieve. The truth was, at this point, I think she was happy to get me out of the room.
Rasmus smiled as I appeared outside the doors, and followed me down the smaller corridor to the great hall that was teeming with life. Staff were running through the palace to where they needed to be, all of them arming the soldiers and guards as they passed to get to the front of the palace, which would lead them to the arc—the only access directly onto the island. Rasmus and I were standing side by side as we watched the soldiers arm up and move out. Even the house staff had a part in the defense of the stronghold now. It was only us that stood to the side with nothing to do.
Damon had been helping with some of the new regulations for most of the afternoon, his need to keep busy and be a part of the defenses almost as strong as mine, so I kept my eyes on the stream of men coming from the castra. The new palace had larger rooms and a more sophisticated training center for the guards and soldiers, which had updated and improved everything. The room the Regius Custos had been using to go over regulations and training schedules was the castra's appointed war rooms. When Baxilm, Damon’s newly appointed guard, appeared without him, I started to panic.
“Baxilm?” I shouted above the din so he could hear me, and he paused at the sound of his name, his eyes scanning the crowd. I moved toward him with Rasmus at my side and stopped in front of him, bouncing on my toes in anxiety. “Where's Damon?”
“He left about five minutes before the war cry. He promised he wasn't going far, milady, but he never came back. I'm so sorry.”
“Damn him. It's not your fault, Bax. What was he doing before he left?”
If there was a more inopportune time for Damon to play lose the personal guard it was right then. He'd been grumbling about Baxilm being assigned to him since Alec had made the call. The two of them had been friends since long before all of this change had unfolded, so I understood his hesitance, but walking away when we were on the verge of war was irresponsible.
“He was in the war room, looking over some of the notes on the prisoners. He asked what the time was and took off.”
I looked to Rasmus. Whether or not Baxilm understood what I'd gleaned from that small insight was irrelevant. Rasmus and I knew where he'd gone, we just weren’t sure why.
“I'll check the training rooms,” Baxilm offered apologetically, and I nodded in agreement. Finding Damon would be easier without another guard trying to stop us. He nodded with little hesitance and I watched him disappear into the crowd, taking a deep breath as I considered my options.
Before I could even step in the direction I needed to go, Rasmus had the top of my arm in his hand and pulled me away from the soldiers flooding to the front of the palace like a stampede.
“No.” His voice was firm and the tone was final. It was frustrating, but not completely unexpected.
“He knows something, Ras.”
The more I thought about it, the more I knew my instinct was right. Damon may have eluded his guards in the past to test them, but there was no way he would do it while there was such a threat hanging over our heads. “He saw something, or figured something out and went to check on whatever it was he found. I know it.”
“Then we go to the war room.”
“For what, Ras? He doesn't need us to double-check his work. He needs backup.”
“What if it's a trap? Do you think he'd be happy about me taking you down there when your life could be at stake? Cass, you have to start thinking like a princess. You're not a vis liberi who can get in on the action. You're the crowned Princess of Mortisali. You know there's a price on your head.”
“I also know that this whole thing is pointless if Damon dies,” I answered pointedly.
“I'm sorry, Cass.” And he truly did look apologetic. “It’s my job to keep you alive. If Gori and Sentarka have something planned, that's even more reason for you to stay away from there. You know I would do anything for you, but I will not risk your life.”
“Then I'm sorry,” I whispered.
Before he could respond, I had his sword in my hands, the hilt of it connecting with the back of his head as the betrayal shone in his eyes. I truly hoped he would forgive me. I loved Rasmus. He may as well have been born into my family with the way I regarded him, but I could not stand back and wait while there was a chance Damon could be in trouble.
I took off into the crowd still filtering toward the arc. It was my only chance to sneak into the passage that led toward the receiving room, which also doubled as the entrance to the dungeons. Some of the soldiers regarded me carefully as they passed, but I simply smiled with adoring approval, and they nodded their appreciation in return.
The moment I was close to the small passage, I slipped out of the marching line and hit the stairs at a dead run. It would have been so easy to run headlong through the room to the dungeon antechamber, but I held myself back. The troops who normally guarded this area were already outside, guarding the vis liberi landing spots, while the excess troops headed toward the arc. Behind the wall that led to the receiving room, I could still see the darkened spot against the stone where the girl had died trying to warn us.
I approached the edge of the wall cautiously, my heart hammering in my chest as the cool wall bit into my back and I pressed myself against it to keep myself concealed. The large stone room beyond was eerily quiet and empty, but I lingered in my spot, listening for a hint of movement.
Slinking around the corner as quietly as I could, my eyes searched every darkened corner and crevice, but I was too slow to react. Before my whole body had made it around the corner, pain sparked in my right shoulder and flared to life, sending fire through my veins. As I looked toward the source of the pain, the emerald encrusted hilt of Damon's dagger shone in the light from the long windows.
I fell to my knees as the pain encompassed me. The clatter of Rasmus' sword as it dropped from my grasp fell on my deaf ears as nothing but a muffled groan emitted and the agony ate me alive. I'd been beaten before, had my finger broken by one of the guards as a test, and yet nothing hurt as much as this did. It was a different kind of pain, not from the point of impact itself but something... more.
The darkness began to swallow me whole as I reached for the dagger buried in my shoulder. My fingers barely glanced from the metal before unconsciousness took a hold of me completely and gravity dragged me to the floor.
I wasn't sure how long I was out, but when the cloud of pain and lethargy finally lifted, my eyes flickered open enough that I could see only a shadow looming over me. My eyes were fuzzy and my head thick as I tried to force myself to focus on the situation at hand. I knew I was in danger, but whatever had tainted the blade had made me numb in the eye of this new threat.
“I had a perfect aim. Why would you stop me from killing her?” a voice I recognized as Sentarka's asked from across the room. I could hear his efforts to keep quiet become strenuous with every word he uttered.
“Because we need her, Father. If you wish to escape, we need to keep the girl alive for negotiation should we get caught.”
Grigori's voice sunk into my head, giving me a false sense of security. The words, however, made my chest ache with betrayal. He was really escaping with his father, and he was helping him get free without warning us of what was coming. He might have saved my life and perhaps stopped the dagger from
hitting its spot in the middle of my chest, but was he still loyal? Hope swelled in my chest and died before it had even moved to blossom. Had Grigori played us? Was he the informer? Had he told Sentarka's troops where they were?
The fog in my head only served to make me more confused, and anger at myself flared to life in the center of my chest. Before I could stop myself, a sob burst from my lips, and traitorous tears welled in my eyes as the pain from the wound hammered against my flesh without apology.
I'd had so much faith in Grigori. I'd believed in him, trusted his word and his loyalty, and God help me, I still did. Even with him stood over me imposingly as I bled, with the light behind him not giving me access to the features of his familiar face, I still believed he would help me. I still had faith he was the man I had come to trust with all of my heart.
“You're a fool, Grigori. If you are captured, they will hold you under more guard, and if they do not kill you, I will not come back for you. Your grandfather needs to know about this new turn of events and I will not let him down.”
“So be it, but I will not walk out there blind without leverage. The princess knows I am dangerous. She dealt with me in the oubliettes, so she knows exactly what I’m capable of.”
A spark of recognition beat somewhere in the back of my groggy mind. Was Grigori trying to tell me something?
“Get her up then. I will check the doors. The faster we're out of here, the better.”
“So be it.”
I heard Sentarka's footsteps fade as he approached the door, and Grigori turned to watch him go. The moment his father was out of earshot, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine.
“Why did you come down here? Damon promised me you would stay away. You should not be here.”
“I knew… you didn't betray us,” I whispered and I swore I saw a small smile playing on his lips.
“I knew you of all people would realize I would never do that, but I had to knock Damon out before he gave me away. I'm sorry I had to do that, Cass.”
“We can talk about that later. What's your plan?” I asked quickly.
Without a precursory warning, Gori pulled the dagger from my shoulder in one smooth movement. I didn’t have time to react until it was out of my flesh, and the pain was so pure that I screamed aloud, uncaring of who it would bring down on us. When the pain finally dwindled. I stared between Grigori and the knife in wonder. There was still a dull thud in my shoulder, and I was even a little foggy headed from the last remnants of the pain, but the distraction of the screaming agony had died with its removal.
“There's a spell on it that is slowly poisoning your blood. He took the knife from Damon and I didn't have time to distract him. You have to take the blade and turn it on me, and make your threat believable. He has to think you bested me.”
I nodded my understanding and tried to blink back the pain from the wound in my shoulder. He needed me to look as though I was defending myself and that was something I could do, even with my head feeling like it was filled with cotton balls. I watched as he shifted into position and readied myself to take him on.
This time I was the one who sprang. If I was going to do this, I was going to sell it with everything I had. I pushed him to his back and pinned him to the ground with the dagger to his throat. I could see the smile on his face as we stared at one another. He was proud of my action when he knew the pain had to still be hindering me. The returning footsteps trailed to us from the direction Sentarka had wandered in, and Grigori began to fight back. He bucked under me with all of his might, his hands clawing at the dagger in my hand. He was so big, I was sure he would have flattened me in that moment if he’d really been trying. I wasn’t going to flatter myself that I was a better warrior than he was.
Rolling from his shifting weight, I rose to find my center of gravity and waited for Grigori to find his feet. Sentarka stopped and watched with wide eyes as I danced around the huge figure of Grigori, more nimble than I ought to have been with my shoulder wound. When Gori lunged, I feinted, sidestepping the attack and spinning to keep him in my line of sight. He swung at me a couple of times, his large hands swiping like bear paws, but I was so much shorter than him I ducked them easily and kept myself out of his long reach. He knew how I fought and was deliberately showing me which arm he was leading with. The fight was like an unrehearsed danced between us, sloppy enough to be believable, but coordinated enough to avoid hurting one another fatally.
When Grigori lunged again, I pounced, sliding in behind him and hooking my foot around his. He fell forward and landed hard. Before he could rise again, I jumped on his back, my knee digging into his spine while my hand grasped his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. The dagger I still held moved to his throat, making him freeze below me.
Sentarka stepped forward, but I lifted my eyes to him and glared. “Another step and you will lose your son. Is that what you want? You accused me of the crime before. I could make it happen for you this time.”
“You had your chance to kill me and didn't take it,” he pointed out, raising one eyebrow without an ounce of humor.
“I realize my mistake. I don’t tend to make the same one twice,” I spat, carefully digging the knife a little deeper into Gori's neck. I was mindful not to draw blood. Whatever spell or incantation was on the blade was painful and I didn't want to inflict that upon him.
Sentarka took a moment looking between Grigori and I. His eyes were devoid of any emotion as he assessed the situation. It was easy to see that he put his life before his son's. I was pretty sure that was true of anyone who was unlucky enough to serve under him. Sadness welled inside of me as he thought about his next move.
“I warned you, Grigori.” The words were cold.
Before Gori could reply, the reinforcements began sounding on the stairs from the palace and I could hear Rasmus' voice barking out orders from above. We were out of time and Sentarka no longer hesitated in his exit. He ran for the door without so much as looking behind him. The slam of the door hit home and the reverberation filled the room. The moment it was obvious he wasn’t coming back again, I removed the knife from Grigori's throat and slid to the side of him, kneeling on the cold stone floor in shock.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered, my hand flat on his back as I caught my breath.
“For what?” he panted, turning his head so his flushed cheek was resting on the cool stone.
“The knife,” I lied.
The truth was, I knew what it was like to have a father who rejected you. Sentarka had made no effort to save his son. He'd even sacrificed him to get free. I was sorry that he hadn't made more of an effort. I was sorry that his father hadn’t made a show of at least some affection for his son rather than using him as a tool to escape captivity.
“No need, dorogaya moya.”
Rasmus almost fell over the two of us as he stormed from the stairs and marched forward. I could see how much I'd hurt him by the way he looked at me. Behind his blue eyes there was anger, betrayal and disbelief. For a moment, I actually thought he was going to ignore me. He had probably planned to until he saw the red of my blood seeping from my shoulder and staining my shirt.
“How bad is it?” he grumbled, the anger leaching from his voice. He crouched in front of me, and his fingers reached out and touched the area gently, making me wince.
“Not so bad. Gori stopped it from finding my heart.” I smiled, hoping he would return the gesture. When his usual grin didn't come, I knew I had to apologize. “I'm so sorry, Ras. I really am. I just couldn't let my gut feeling go. I knew something was going down and I had to stop it.”
“And Damon?” he asked, his eyebrows arched.
“Knocked out in the cells,” Gori answered for me. “I had to do it. If Sentarka had the chance, he would have killed him.”
I sprang to my feet to check on him, but Rasmus pushed me down and called over a guard to make sure I stayed on my ass. As much as I wanted to be there for Damon when he woke up, I wasn't going to cro
ss Rasmus for the second time in one day. I'd already hurt him enough. It would take time for him to trust me fully during an argument, but I would make it up to him.
The moment he was gone, I turned to Grigori, who was sitting up beside me, his hand rubbing his neck where I'd held the knife to him. I wasn't sure why he'd been helping Sentarka escape, but I knew there had to be a reason. I didn’t think Grigori did anything without reason.
“What happened?” I asked quietly, as his eyes moved to the growing stain of red on my shoulder. “How did Sentarka get out?”
“I helped him,” Grigori replied, avoiding eye contact and reaching out to touch my shoulder. His fingers pressed gently around the wound, making me hiss in pain. “I know you would have preferred for me to feign ignorance, to leave him to rot in that cell, but I needed him to trust me. So when he grumbled about needing to get out. I told him I could help him. I lied and told him this new palace still had some chinks in its armor. Once he thought I could help him, he was more receptive. The guards helped. They treated me as though I were a prisoner, throwing my food at me and rattling my cage like a wild animal. When Sentarka realized he could get out with my help, he started talking, telling me they would need my help. He told me some of their plans, but I can't be certain anything he said was the truth.”
“You tried.”
“But trying wasn't enough. I followed through with helping him out of here because it was the only way the latros would leave. He and his troops have been called back to Thánatos but he never told me why. He was pissed more because his father would be upset he was late than the fact he was in a cell with no way out. He wouldn't say where they were meeting or what they were meeting about, only that Thánatos had arrived and your time was borrowed.”