"Why did they target you?" Tenger's question was an absurd waste of time.
And it deserved an equally ridiculous answer. "The pleasure of my company. I'm a lot of fun at parties."
"No doubt." Tenger's smile reeked of insincerity. Or maybe Tenger just reeked. "Perhaps that's why we're here as well."
"It's after the party that people regret kidnapping me. Forty Halderians were executed for the crime."
"Forty people were executed," Simon said. "Some of them were Halderians, some were rebels or rebel sympathizers. Some were innocent citizens who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"There were no innocents," I insisted. "That's a Corack lie."
"How do you know?"
"My father told me--"
"How do you know?" Simon raised his voice. "Did you gaze into the faces of those who hung from the gallows? Did you hear their stories, their defenses? You know nothing about it, because by the time the executions happened, you had already disappeared."
I lowered my eyes. That much was true.
The kidnapping had happened in the days after my mother's death, at her wake, during which hundreds of people had filtered through Woodcourt Manor to gaze upon her body. After I escaped from the Banished, my father barely looked at me. He blamed me for the disruption to her mourning rites and told me I'd have to leave Woodcourt immediately. The deaths of those forty people would be my fault, since I had been "careless enough to be taken."
My father also claimed the reason I was sent to the Lava Fields was for protection from any remaining Halderians, or from rebels who would view the kidnapping as a sign of Dallisor weakness. But I knew it wasn't that. He wanted me out of his home. For my mother's sake, he'd always tolerated my presence, but little more. Now he resented me for surviving a kidnapping when my mother hadn't even survived a winter flu.
Tenger continued, "Why is your father bringing you home again now?"
"He misses me." Which wasn't even close to the truth, but if what I suspected was true, then the real reason was worse. Marriage. A marriage of alliance, undoubtedly to some scaly old man, all to improve my father's standing in the kingdom. What could be more repulsive than that?
My words brought on a bitter chuckle from Simon, who said, "I told you she wouldn't cooperate."
"She will." Tenger leaned forward. "She's going to do everything we want."
"And what is it you want?" I asked. "Because one day you'll be discovered, and then Lord Endrick will crush you just as he has thousands of others in this land. Once we destroy all of you Coracks, we'll finally have peace again."
"Crushing a people into submission is not peace, my lady." Tenger's nostrils flared. "Lord Endrick's days upon the Scarlet Throne are numbered."
I snorted. Like everyone in Antora, I feared Lord Endrick, but I'd be a fool not to respect his power. Lord Endrick could not be defeated. He could not be killed or even wounded, certainly not by the Coracks. At best, they were like fleas to him, a persistent irritation, but a pestilence he would eventually crush between his fingers. Sooner than later, I hoped.
Unless the Coracks wanted a prize that was bigger than me. If they asked for that, I couldn't agree. Darrow had begged me not to. But if I didn't cooperate, he and Celia would die.
The best I could do was convince them not to ask. "Endrick is no ordinary man. Bring an army of a hundred thousand against him if you want. It will do you no good."
"Not yet, my lady. That's where you come in."
Almost unwittingly, I sat up straight, shaking my head as fiercely as possible. "What you want cannot be done."
Tenger leaned in to me. "It will be done, and you will do it. The Coracks have not yet decided who will replace Endrick as ruler of the Scarlet Throne, but he will be replaced."
"You will hang for this." I tilted my head toward Simon, to be sure the message was clear. "All of you."
"So you've said." Tenger had probably heard that threat as often as the church bells chimed. "You'll attend our hanging, I assume."
"I'll give the executioner his orders, gladly." My voice became ice. It frightened me to hear it, to realize I was capable of such words. Maybe I was more of a Dallisor than I wanted to believe, because I truly meant everything I'd just said.
Tenger smiled at my threat. "If you fail us, with similar enthusiasm we will execute your servant girl and driver. Only our methods are far more painful, I can promise you that. Now, what do you know about the Olden Blade?"
My gut twisted, but I tried not to let my worry show. If the Coracks knew about that dagger, then they needed my help to complete their wicked plans. They intended to make a traitor of me too. If I was not careful, I would hang with them.
Kestra wasn't supposed to remember me. I'd changed too much in the last six years.
As a young boy, I'd served the Dallisor family, and been paid in misery, mistreatment, and starvation wages. I'd been a scrawny thing back then, able to worm up the fireplaces and clean them out between burnings. When I started to grow, they underfed me, hoping to keep me small.
For most of my years of service, I had believed that Kestra was different. I used to enjoy watching her scramble through the halls of Woodcourt like a wild pup, straightening up only when her governess scolded her or when her father approached. She kept a collection of odd-shaped rocks hidden in her bedroom, even showed me her favorite once, a dark yellow rock shaped like a crescent moon. Her smile was so bright that some days ... on the worst days, it was all I lived for. Privately, I thought of her as my friend.
How wrong I'd been.
Until tonight, the last I'd seen of Kestra was when I'd been dragged off to her father's dungeons. She was my accuser and never blinked once as I protested my innocence. She'd wanted to please her father, and it seemed I was the price for his approval.
Somehow, I had survived the dungeons, and against even greater odds, escaped them. But I left with a bitterness that still burned in my chest, hot enough to endure these next few minutes at her side.
Tenger repeated his question about the Olden Blade two more times, but all he got in return from Kestra was a blank stare, as if he'd never spoken at all. This was a game to her, one I used to see her play in defiance of her father. But tonight's game would not end with a simple missed meal or a rod to her hand.
At Tenger's signal, I pressed on her arm as a warning. The captain wouldn't tolerate silence, and nobody wanted the consequences if she refused to cooperate. Especially her.
"The Olden Blade is a myth," Kestra finally said. "I'd believe in flying oxen before I put faith in some magical dagger."
A vein at the side of Tenger's neck pulsed, something I'd seen before. Most Dallisors wrapped themselves in arrogance the way others might wear a winter cloak, and no one detested that more than the captain. We'd never captured a Dallisor family member before, but we'd certainly cured many Dominion soldiers of their arrogance, usually with a slit to the throat.
I pressed on her arm again, harder this time, but she yanked it away. Fine. If she insisted on doing things the hard way, we would.
"The dagger is real," Tenger countered. "In the War of Devastation, the Halderians had the numbers, but the Dallisors had the Endrean magic. Hoping to ensure victory, Endrick retreated into the Blue Caves, the source of Endrean power. He used the darkest magic there to pour his soul into a dagger made of Dirilium, an Endrean metal harder than diamonds. In doing so, he became like the Dirilium itself: unbreakable, immortal. So powerful that the only thing able to destroy him is himself."
"Or the dagger," I added. "Endrick intended to keep the Olden Blade by his side at all times--"
"But it was stolen by Risha Halderian, I know the story." Kestra sighed as if we were a mere nuisance, like a fly buzzing too near her ear. "And that's all it is, a story. She had no dagger at her execution, which I can attest to because my father was there. If such a weapon ever existed, Endrick's soldiers would have found it by now."
I arched a brow. "If it never exi
sted, then why have his soldiers been looking for it?"
She flinched and quickly recovered, but she knew I'd noticed. That would bother her, hopefully throw off her edge. "What if it is real?" she asked. "Let's assume the story is true, that it is the one weapon capable of killing Lord Endrick. He designed it so that anyone who attempts to wield the blade will die. That's what happened when it was stolen from Lord Endrick seventeen years ago. Risha Halderian died for her theft."
Tenger's eyes lit. "That isn't what happened. Risha stole the Olden Blade and wielded it. She could have defeated Lord Endrick had she not been captured by Dominion armies first, and then killed."
Kestra smirked at him. "So she ... died. Isn't that what I said?"
She'd be lucky if Tenger allowed her to ever leave this carriage.
Hoping to calm things between them, I picked up the story. "If Risha was able to wield the dagger, then we believe another Halderian can claim it too. Risha's heir."
"You believe?" Kestra sat up straight. "You half-wits captured me over some mindless belief?"
"It's more than that." Tenger cast a well-deserved glare at me. "After Risha stole the blade, others tried to use it in her place, but merely touching it left them burned or seriously injured. Once we have the Olden Blade, somewhere within the Halderian clan, we'll find the next Infidante, the challenger." A satisfied grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "The Infidante will go on to kill Lord Endrick."
Her lips pursed in anger. "Then it's simple. All you must do is find some mythical dagger that's been missing for almost seventeen years, locate Risha's heir in a country of dead Halderians, and get this Infidante past the Dominion army to fight an immortal, all-powerful Lord Endrick to the death. Brilliant plan, Tenger. It can't possibly fail."
Tenger's smile darkened. "Before her death, Risha Halderian was imprisoned in your father's dungeons. With her was an Endrean servant named Anaya. Risha and Anaya entered the dungeons with the Blade, but it was gone when they were executed. Risha hid it there, somewhere. Your job is to get a few of us inside those dungeons."
"I'm happy to put you in the Woodcourt dungeons, but I will slam the door shut behind you. I will not help you find that dagger."
Tenger leaned farther forward, grabbing Kestra's knee with the grip glove I had taken from her, and squeezing. The glove would directly trigger the nerves, with far more strength than an ordinary hand could achieve. She bent forward in immediate pain, obviously fighting the urge to cry out. She tried to pry his fingers away, but she couldn't do it.
Tenger said, "Is that true, my lady? You will not help us?"
"Let go of me." She could barely breathe, but his fingers only pressed tighter.
I looked away, wishing that I could be nearly anywhere else. Why didn't Kestra just cooperate? She could make this stop at any time. But she only cursed at us and then cried out as Tenger pinched deeper again.
"Two minutes of this, and you will lose the leg," Tenger said. "Would the Dallisors tolerate a cripple amongst them? I rather doubt it."
"Please let go!"
She would beg, and cry, and curse out her anger, but she would not give in. I knew this. I'd once watched her stand barefoot in the snow for an hour after refusing to tell her father the name of the servant who'd tracked mud through the great hall. Her mother had finally rescued her.
But she'd never told him my name. That time.
I laid my hand over Tenger's. "You're hurting her."
Tenger's eyes flashed, but I wouldn't remove my hand until he did. Tenger was the captain and I was sworn to obey his orders, but Tenger was only angry because she wasn't cowering the way he'd expected, and that wounded his pride. We'd get her cooperation, but not like this.
I hoped.
Finally, Tenger let go and she began to breathe normally again.
"The Olden Blade," Tenger said.
"It doesn't exist." She was still out of breath, still reeling from pain. "What you ask is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible." Tenger brushed his gloved fingers together, a clear reminder that he could hurt her again. "Bring me the Olden Blade. In exchange, I will return your servants and set you all free."
"Even if you find the dagger, you can't do anything with it."
He gave her a wink. "Perhaps I'm a Halderian."
"If you were, I don't imagine you're stupid enough to admit it. Anyone who crosses the Dallisors, as you've done tonight, will be killed for it. But if a Halderian does it, we'll kill you twice."
That was true, but hardly a good enough threat to worry a Corack. None of us were likely to survive this rebellion. Just sitting in this carriage probably cut my chances of survival in half.
Tenger smiled. "And what do you think we'll do to you if you ignore my orders?"
"To steal the most valuable weapon in Antoran history, and betray the Lord of the Dominion? Do whatever you want to me. I'm no filthy traitor, like you."
And now she had crossed the line.
Tenger opened the carriage door enough to put out a hand and snap his fingers. Instantly, we heard the cry of Kestra's servant, the handmaiden. It was a bloodcurdling scream that nearly made me sick, so I couldn't imagine what it did to Kestra. Her face drained of color and she started from her seat, but Tenger slammed her back into it, keeping his hands on her arms.
"Help me!" the handmaiden screamed again.
Tears streamed down Kestra's cheeks, leaving behind long lines that glistened in the clearstone glow. She closed her eyes as if that would block out the screaming, but didn't try to pull her arms free to cover her ears, like I would have expected. Her muscles had become taut though, and her breathing more irregular than before.
With another scream, Kestra cried, "What are they doing to her?"
"Bring me that dagger," Tenger said.
The handmaiden screamed again, sharp enough to awaken the dead. I wondered if the other servant was dead, the driver.
"Are you monsters?" Kestra yelled. "What you're doing here proves everything we believe about the Coracks is true."
"It is all true. Trust me on that." Tenger leaned forward. "We'll do whatever it takes until you cooperate."
Could I say the same thing? I couldn't help but wonder if we'd crossed a line of our own tonight, becoming the very thing we were fighting against. Kestra's hands were clenched in white-knuckled fists and were visibly shaking. Was this any different than the fear created by Dominion soldiers when they rounded up innocent civilians for half-crimes and demonstrations of Endrick's power?
But Kestra was not an innocent. I had to remember that. She was a tool in a plan. Nothing more.
Kestra's tone went lower, commanding. "Stop this, now."
Tenger stuck out his hand again and the screaming stopped, though the girl's sobs continued, almost as loud. Then his hand returned to Kestra's knee. "You have four days to find the Olden Blade."
"There is no Blade--"
He ignored her. "To get it, I don't care who you lie to, cheat, or harm--in fact, it'd do some good if you caused a little trouble in Highwyn." He smiled at that. She did not. "After the Blade is in my hands, you will be free."
"Free? I'll be killed for betraying Lord Endrick this way."
He didn't even blink. "Well, you can always join the rebellion."
"I'd only do that if it got me closer to a knife and your throat."
Tenger chuckled at that. "You were a child when you left Highwyn. Perhaps after you have a chance to see the Dallisors for who they really are, you will come to the rebellion more willingly. Now do you agree to our plans"--he stuck his hand out the carriage door again--"or shall I let them continue?"
"I'll do what you ask." She lowered her eyes so they wouldn't reveal too much of her thoughts.
Despite the meekness of her voice, I noticed the set of her jaw. Couldn't Tenger see that she was absolutely going to betray us, or worse? I wouldn't say anything in front of her, but Tenger needed to know that she was lying to us.
And scheming. Lookin
g at Tenger, she asked, "In four days, we'll meet here?"
She wanted to know where to send her father's soldiers in four days.
Tenger wasn't that naive. "Not here, my lady. You'll be told where to go once you have the item I want."
"By whom?"
"You were traveling with a handmaiden and a guard. Since we have robbed you of their services, we will replace them." This time he leaned out the door, calling, "Trina, please join us."
Something twisted in my chest, though I didn't let it show. Trina was ... difficult, but in an entirely different way than Kestra seemed to be. Trina had offered Tenger valuable information about this plan a year ago, which was the only reason he had let her join the Coracks. No one else knew what she'd told him, but I'd never cared to find out. My role in this mission was nearly completed.
Thank the heavens for that. I'd joined the Coracks to fight the Dominion, not to threaten and terrify their daughters. Even this daughter.
Trina entered the carriage, having changed from riding breeches into the skirts of a lady, probably one of Kestra's skirts from the trunk at the rear of her carriage. One glance at Kestra and I knew my guess was right. Her cheeks were aflame with anger at seeing her fine skirt on a Corack.
Trina's hair was black and worn loose down her shoulders, unlike Kestra, whose brown hair had been woven into complicated plaits around her head, except for the lock Tenger had cut off as his usual token of victory. Both girls were about the same size, though Kestra's dresses had been fitted perfectly to her curves, and hung a little loose on Trina's straighter frame.