She bit her lip in gratitude. “Why aren’t you with the Seventh?”
“They are set to their task.” He cursed as pounding feet and labored breathing announced a new arrival. “The streets crawl with the Crown’s soldiers. Shortly, we shall have enough help to trip one another.”
Renee called a challenge to the newcomer.
“Fisker!” a baritone voice answered. A moment later the man himself appeared, a sheathed blade hanging at his hip. His jaw tightened when he saw Savoy.
Savoy blocked the man’s path.
Fisker sighed but held out his hands. Professionalism in his voice battled disdain. “I shall follow your lead, Sav—Commander. For this operation.”
The thought of Fisker guarding her back gave Renee a foul taste. There was no help for it, though. Nodding to Fisker, Savoy advanced into the passage. Renee jogged to take up position behind him.
Lights, both mage-made and lantern, shone bright. Woven tapestries dressed the stone walls. The scent of fresh bread mixed with the musk of underground air. All was quiet. Then a pair of guards posted at a doorway ahead saw them and drew blades.
“I have the rear,” Fisker called.
Savoy, armed with a knife, lowered himself to a crouch.
Renee pulled her sword and engaged the rightmost guard, her blade meeting his in a dance of steel. The guard’s short sword suited the tight space. Renee buried her headache. She focused on the tip of her blade, relying on speed and precision to make her cuts. When the guard’s too-hard swing pulled him off balance, her sword found its opening and plunged into his chest.
Pulling her blade free, Renee found that Fisker had killed a latecomer and Savoy was standing over his own prone foe. Savoy pressed the bloody tip of the guard’s own sword against the man’s throat. “Where is the Madam?”
The captive eyed the blade. “She took the girl and left.”
“Define girl and left,” said Savoy.
“The Crown’s girl. Little. Maybe two.” He pointed with his head toward the door he had been guarding. “Was locked up in a cage.”
Savoy held his position. “De Winter.”
Renee ran to the chamber. A constellation of mage lights illuminated a four-poster bed standing on a thick carpet. A gold-rimmed looking glass hung beside the bed. On the other side of the room, Renee saw a barred alcove. Restraining herself, Renee checked the bed and closet first, ensuring all was clear before approaching the cage.
A woolen blanket covered the jail cell floor. Another blanket lay folded in a trundle bed alongside abandoned wooden toys. For reasons of her own, the Madam had treated her hostage gently. Thinking of Jasper, Renee doubted the motivation arose from maternal instinct.
“The bed chamber is consistent with the man’s claim,” Renee said, returning to Savoy and Fisker.
Fisker pointed to the prisoner. “He claims there is an exit at the end of this corridor.”
Savoy searched the guard. “Will this open the doors?” he asked, pulling an amulet from the man’s pocket. He bounced the diamond in his palm.
The man’s gaze caught Savoy’s wristbands and collar. “Open doors, charge lights, and restrain unruly pups. Seems I reached for the wrong weapon.” His bitter chuckle turned into a grunt of pain.
“The mistake saved your life.” Savoy withdrew. “Restrain him,” he told Fisker, and moved on down the passage.
Renee stayed by Savoy’s side. Behind them, the guard screamed. Renee raised a brow. Continued interrogation had not been part of Fisker’s orders.
“If he kills the man, I will deal with him later. We move faster than a woman carrying a toddler, but not enough to spare the time.”
Even when that time means a life. Renee swallowed but kept moving.
Fisker caught up to them several minutes later and reported nothing. She considered questioning the man but thought better of it. He either killed the prisoner or he did not. No argument would change that.
The tunnel they now walked through differed from the others. Barely a pace wide, it had no off-shoots, no lights, and seemingly no end. Logical, for an emergency route to a covert exit. Renee took the lead, letting Alec’s necklace light the way.
The passage turned and the floor dropped from under her feet. Renee fell. She shouted a warning to the others as her knees banged the stone floor. Glancing back, she realized she had fallen down a tall step into a room that lay a span lower than the tunnel floor had been.
“That is far enough, all of you.”
Renee turned toward the speaker. Her heart pounded.
The Madam stood at the far end of the barren chamber, a bound and gagged toddler balanced on her hip. Beside them, a metal ladder rose to a trapdoor in the ceiling. The woman’s wrist flicked, smoothly releasing a blade from her sleeve into her palm. She rested the knife against Claire’s throat and met the eyes of Savoy, Renee, and Fisker in turn.
Renee drew a sharp breath. The girl was struggling against her binds, her little wrists rubbed raw on the rope and long lashes damp with tears. A few paces away, Jasper rocked over a deformed ankle, likely another victim of the devious entrance. Renee pushed aside their pain to focus on their lives.
Renee, Savoy, and Fisker kept still, their blades at the ready.
“Jasper.” The Madam’s voice dripped disdain. “Quit whimpering, climb up the ladder, and open the door.”
Renee shifted her weight.
The woman pressed the knife into Claire’s neck until a trickle of blood ran free, dripping to stain the Madam’s loose shirtsleeve. The child bucked wildly, a wail escaping around the gag.
Renee froze.
Jasper struggled upright. Face contorted and pale, he brought his healthy foot under him, rocked once, twice, and tried to rise. The injury took his weight and he cried out, falling to the floor. “I can’t.”
The Madam snorted and weighed the ladder with her gaze. Without Jasper to climb first, she would have to open the trapdoor herself. A simple act except for the squirming toddler in her arms and the necessity of leaving her son behind. The latter must offend her sense of security if not morality.
Savoy cleared his throat. “Take your time, Madam. I’ve nowhere to be.”
“Cat, if I recall?” The Madam smiled, flashing white teeth against red lips.
“Commander Savoy.”
“So I’ve heard. ’Tis a shame we lacked earlier introduction.” She shifted her stance. “I hope my offspring has not damaged you beyond repair?”
On the floor, Jasper’s head sank into his shoulders.
“Draw your blade and test me yourself,” said Savoy.
She chuckled. “A professional curiosity I may satisfy later. I fear I’m an assassin, not dualist, by trade.” Circling the ladder such that she could watch her opponents while she climbed, the Madam gripped the bars and climbed up. Claire’s dangling feet banged against the metal steps.
“Mother!” Jasper reached up toward the woman.
The Madam, now by the ceiling, looked down at her son. Her face still, she released the toddler into the empty air, in the same motion throwing the knife in her hand at Jasper.
CHAPTER 44
Claire shrieked. Dropping her sword, Renee lunged forward to catch the falling child. The girl’s weight caught her shoulder, sending them both to the ground. Renee twisted in the air to put herself at the bottom of the falling heap and felt her charge bounce against her as the stone struck her back.
Grunting, she rolled to her feet. The little girl sobbed but pulled against her binds. Alive. Renee turned, steeling herself to see Jasper pierced with his mother’s blade. But, he wasn’t. Savoy rose from atop Jasper—he had pushed the boy clear. The Madam’s knife, intended for her son’s heart, skittered harmlessly across the floor. Above them, the trapdoor in the ceiling banged closed, its edges glimmering w
ith sparks of blue flame.
The Madam was gone.
Fisker grunted in frustration.
Renee retrieved her sword and slid it into its sheath before untying the small hostage. Once free, Claire scrambled across the floor and curled up in a corner, tear-streaked face hidden inside her arms. The face of another girl flinching in fear floated in Renee’s mind. This could have been Sasha. Almost was. Bloody gods. It almost was.
Savoy’s foot caught Jasper’s side and rolled the boy over like a log. “What did you do to the child?”
“Nothing.” His voice trembled. “I swear. I did nothing.”
Savoy looked down at the boy. The commander’s nostrils flared. A shadow darkened his face. And then he twitched, as if something only he saw unfolded before him. Something that had nothing to do with a sobbing toddler.
“Commander?” Renee called out.
Savoy showed no sign of having heard her. Bending, he gripped Jasper’s throat and hauled the mage boy to his feet.
Jasper gasped and struggled against the grip, like a kitten twisting for freedom.
“Can’t concentrate in pain, can you, mage?” said Savoy. The cold hatred in his voice chilled Renee.
“Savoy.” She forced her voice steady, afraid to nudge a stone balancing on a cliff’s edge. Savoy could kill Jasper. Would kill him if given a hair more cause. “Release him. Please. It’s over.”
Savoy’s muscles bunched beneath taut skin and Jasper’s eyes shot open. The gurgles ceased.
Claire shrank deeper into her corner.
“He’s fifteen,” whispered Renee. “He’s scared and he’s hurt.”
Savoy’s jaw tightened.
Renee stepped closer. She laid her hand on Savoy’s forearm and felt it tremble. “You saved his life minutes ago. Don’t take it now.”
Savoy’s face twitched. He loosened his hold, letting the boy slide to the ground.
Jasper gasped for air, rubbing his neck and staring at the floor.
“Begging your pardon, Commander.” Fisker stood beside the waist-high step from which Renee had fallen into the room. He ran his hand along its edge and frowned. “There is something amiss here. Do you still have the amulet?”
“There is no mage work there.” Jasper’s voice trembled.
Renee rubbed her temple. The boy would do well to keep from attracting Savoy’s attention.
Savoy turned the point of his sword on Jasper. “Horse shit. What’s in that step, mage?”
Jasper scampered back, the seat of his pants rubbing the floor. “Nothing. I swear, Cat. Nothing.”
Savoy looked from the boy to the guardsman. Jasper was shaking his head like a wet dog while Fisker held up his hand, ready to catch the stone. Savoy tossed the amulet to Fisker.
A triumphant smile touched the guard’s face. The back of Renee’s neck tightened. She cried out a warning, but the guardsman had already turned and pointed the amulet at Savoy. The wristbands came alive at the amulet’s order, twisting Savoy’s wrists behind his head and pulling him to the metal ladder.
Fisker drew his sword. “Even more useful than I imagined.” He pocketed the amulet and turned toward the restrained Savoy.
“What are you doing?” Drawing her sword, Renee barred his way. A drop of sweat escaped her matted hair and stung her eye. She scrubbed her arm roughly across her forehead. Her heart sped.
“You know what he is.” Fisker’s face was dark, his lips set in a sneer. His shadow fell over her. “Did you not see the charcoaled bodies of those in the arena who died to buy him a few minutes of distraction? He is a corruption that poisons the Crown’s blood. He and his kind always have been.”
Renee adjusted her stance. The top of her head just reached the guardsman’s shoulder. “The Family started that fire,” she said, weighing Fisker with her gaze. She could do this, she’d dealt with large men before. “Commander Savoy knows nothing of his relation.”
“His ignorance of his uncle does not change it. People died regardless. They will continue dying unless I cut him down. Him, and then the rest of his vile bloodline.” The four fingers of Fisker’s free hand flexed. “Step aside, girl.”
Behind Renee, Savoy growled. “What bloody uncle?”
“Savoy is a Servant of the Crown.” Renee moved across the floor, circling Fisker. “Do you put your judgment above King Lysian’s?”
Fisker barked a laugh and rotated slowly to keep Renee in sight. “King Lysian wore swaddle cloths when I took up the sword.” He jerked his chin at Savoy. “I watched this disease grow, saw as his Family connections bought him escape from justice. But you want proof of your own, girl? Look at his deeds today, choosing to save a Viper boy over capturing the Madam herself.” He shook his head and held up his mangled hand. “I know the gods’ truth just as I know they chose me to correct their error.”
Renee gave up reasoning with a madman and tightened her grip on her sword. She slid toward Fisker, searching for an opening.
Fisker took the first move, slashing at her neck. Renee stepped in and parried the attack, her arm numb from the force of the impact. Had she moved a hair slower, he would have shattered her defenses. She took a breath to steady herself.
“He swings his blade like a club,” Savoy said behind her, a calm confirmation to her own conclusion. “Play—”
“A different game,” Renee finished for him.
Fisker slashed with wild fury and no pause, forcing Renee to dance from side to side to avoid getting cleaved in two. The strikes were crude but powerful. Very powerful. Fisker had decided to kill her.
Renee slid right to avoid another attack. She waited until the man’s blade whistled through the air, and closed in, crowding him. His greater reach turned to disadvantage in close quarters. Renee’s blade nicked his arm.
Blood dripped through Fisker’s sleeve. His eyes flashed and he growled like a bear whose wound stirred more rage than pain. Cocking his foot, Fisker kicked Renee. The heavy boot sank into her abdomen. She couldn’t breathe. She stumbled backward and lost her balance. Gasping, Renee rolled as she fell, racing to avoid the point of his blade. She got her legs under her just as Fisker’s sword struck. It hit the floor where she had fallen a heartbeat earlier. Shifting her weight to her arms, Renee spun with her leg outstretched, sweeping Fisker’s ankles out from under him.
Fisker toppled backward. Swinging his sword in savage arcs, he took several seconds to re-settle into a fighting stance. It was unfair that he could buy himself time for composure and Renee could not, but it was what it was. Fair was for the training salle.
Renee’s heart sped, feeding on her fear. Breaths chased each other in her chest. Another moment and she would be fighting herself as well as Fisker. To calm herself, she lunged in with a combination Savoy favored in their morning drills. Fisker danced from parry to parry, too busy fighting her off to offer an assault, and losing wind with each motion.
The momentum was hers. Renee’s hand tightened on the hilt, the tip of the sword aiming into his gut. Savoy shouted a warning but the words drowned in the hum. Renee drew a calming breath and let herself feel the rhythm of the fight. The rhythm she was setting. Her grip softened, giving her arm the freedom to adjust in mid motion. The guardsman may have started the bout, but now it belonged to her.
In her mind, she was fighting on the sands of a salle. Finesse returned to her fingers, her breath supporting her moves. The lives hanging on the outcome of the match faded from thought. This was about the song of attacks and parries, the conversation of the blades that was meaningful in itself.
The lunge at Fisker’s gut changed in mid-motion. Her wrist bent, tipping the blade up. The steel shaft of her sword sparkled with reflected light and pierced her target under the jaw. Blood bubbled from the wound. Renee watched it without understanding.
A sharp pain erupted above h
er elbow and she jerked away. Fisker’s sword slid free of her arm and clattered to the ground. The guardsman followed his weapon. The fight had ended with both partners hitting their mark. His heavier strike pierced her muscle clear through; her gentle one went little deeper than the skin of his neck, severing the artery that pulsed there.
Renee cleaned then sheathed her blade, while in the corner, the little girl who would prevent a war stuck her thumb into her mouth.
CHAPTER 45
“How do you feel?” Healer Grovener pressed his fingers against Renee’s wrist.
“Trapped.” She pulled away. In her time out of a cadet’s uniform, she forgot the limitations of the rank. Deportation back to the Academy the moment she and Savoy brought their charges up out of Catar’s underground had come as a crude blow. Once the Crown’s Healer had made the recommendation, not even Savoy stood up for her right to stay in the fight.
“Did headaches awaken you again this night?” Grovener’s pen hovered over his notes.
“No,” she lied. “Have you news from Catar?”
“I pay no mind to such matters.” His pen scratched paper. “Your visitor may know more than I, however.”
Visitor. She had been allowed none until now. Renee turned to the opening door. “Sasha!”
The girl hesitated in the doorway. Outlines of fading bruises still marred her face and she wrapped herself with her arms, but she was here, outside her quarters and braving the world. “I’m not so naive as to believe the Vipers castrated, but I don’t think they will target my family again any time soon,” she said quietly, a ghost of a smile touching her face. “Thanks to you.”
Renee vaulted out of bed, dodged the Healer, and threw her good arm around her friend. They held on for several heartbeats. “You’re safe now,” Renee whispered into Sasha’s shoulder before pulling back and guiding them both to the cot. “And Catar? How much blood . . . ” She trailed off seeing the other’s head shake.
“None. It was beautiful, Renee. The Crown’s forces”—she grinned, emphasizing the phrase that once more included Renee—“extracting our cousin from the heart of the Vipers’ lair sent a message that a troop of soldiers never could. Lys halted military action as soon as he had Claire, face and blood both saved. And to ensure his intentions sank in, he also seized the infrastructure of Predator competitions.”