Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

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Y OUR TURN, ELOWEN." RYDER'S VOICE PULLS ME OUT OF my daydream and places me back into the bustling tavern in the village of Ladislava.

I lay my queen card on the table, overruling the soldier card Finnian threw down before me. The simple game is called Courts and can be played with up to five people all receiving seven cards from the deck placed in the center of the circle. Cards must be played in a strategic order to win with a king overtaking any queen, soldier, or jester. Failing to produce a card higher than the one placed before requires a player to draw one and skip a turn—which is exactly why Saskia is glaring at me.

But it's short-lived because Ryder plays his final king card, the game is over, and his pockets grow heavier with our syndrils. "Another round? It'll be on me."

"Not for me," Saskia says, eyeing my nearly untouched cider. "Would you like me to take you to some of my favorite shops? They'll be closing soon, and I'm bored of cards."

"I'd love that." Her insightfulness is both a blessing and a curse, but tonight it's the former.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Finnian says, eyeing the night sky through a window.

"Ladislava is safer than Verendus." Ryder begins shuffling the cards again. "But be back within the hour."

"I'll be fine, Finnian." I gesture down my knife-clad legs. "I have my consequence correctors if I run into trouble."

Ladislava resembles Verendus, set beyond the forest Cayden and I traveled through to get to Kallistar. It's where most of the army resides when they're not on the border, and it has a wide array of shops and restaurants. Most people walk around armed to the teeth while carrying baskets and cake boxes back to their homes, but there's the occasional gown in a sea of leathers.

Saskia slides her arm through mine, and we huddle together against the cold. Wind whips through the winding cobblestone roads bordered with autumn-enriched trees and quaint shops. The streets are nearly deserted given the late hour, but the scent of sugar from a day's worth of baking and herbal remedies lingers like a ghost in a graveyard.

The bell above the door to the tiny stone shop chimes when Saskia and I step through. The cold melts from my hands and I wrap my cloak tighter around me to keep from knocking herbs off the cramped shelves. It smells divine in here: flowers, spices, and something utterly peaceful.

"Lady Saskia, I was wondering when I'd see you again!" The tiny woman with long gray hair and warm eyes smiles from behind the counter. "And you brought a friend." The woman reaches for her glasses, but her face drops when recognition washes over her features. "Your Majesty," she says in a rush while shakily standing up from the stool, but I touch her arm before she can drop to a curtsy.

"There's no need for that." I smile, helping her back onto the stool.

"Can I help you find a blend you're looking for?" She nods, not looking fully convinced I won't execute her for not curtsying. "Commander Veles ordered one earlier this week, but he hasn't been by to pick it up."

Confusion cloaks Saskia's features, but she takes the light pink tin dotted with yellow flowers from the woman and tucks it into her bag. I quickly look away. It's obvious he intends to gift the tea to a woman. The cider I drank must not have been good because my stomach starts burning with something I don't wish to identify.

"I'll just take my usual," Saskia says while placing several coins on the counter.

I mosey around while Saskia finishes her transaction and let her guide me back into the cold once she finishes. The back of my neck prickles. A sixth sense that's saved my life more times than I remember.

I shove Saskia behind a large oak tree when a sharp pain shoots through my shoulder. My legs wobble slightly, and I press my hand into the bark while ripping out a dart half filled with an inky blue liquid.

I break off the tip and hand it to Saskia. "Get to Finnian and Ryder. Tell them what's happening."

"I'm not leaving you."

"You're not armed and they're looking for me."

She wraps an arm around my shoulder, trying to get me to move. "You've been drugged. You can't fend them off alone."

I roll my neck and blink away the black spots dotting my vision, unsheathing two knives. "I've learned that one of the best weapons is being underestimated."

I've been fighting at a disadvantage nearly all my life. Odds stacked against me aren't scary, they're motivating. I've never been able to ignore the parts of me that crave blood on my blades, and tonight I want a red river flowing down the streets of Ladislava.

A shadowed figure stands on a nearby tree branch, huddling close to the trunk, while two assassins, a man and a woman, rush toward me. I throw a knife toward the shadow, but my aim is off, and my body is sluggish. They hit the cobblestones, but I know the throw didn't kill them. When a throw lands, I can feel it vibrating deep in the marrow of my bones.

Another knife finds its way into my hand like it never left, and I charge the masked man and woman on the ground. My adrenaline works against whatever drug is trying to slow me down. The man dodges my blade when I throw it directly at his head, but it wasn't meant to kill, merely to separate the two so I can fight them individually.

I draw a sword from my waist and use it to block the woman's swing. Her malice-filled eyes meet mine over our locked blades and I smirk, noting how hot her hatred burns for me. It'll make killing her all the more satisfying. I shove her back and cut my swords to the side, which she blocks and makes the mistake of positioning her blade lower than mine. Risking my balance and using my position, I kick her in the gut and revel in the way her skull smacks against a raised part of the uneven ground.

The man charges, and I have just enough time to pivot and block his blow before he shoves me back. Unlike the woman, I manage to stay upright and circle him.

"Are you feeling tired, princess?" the man goads.

I'm gravely aware of the drug coursing through my body with every second that ticks by, and I worry that Saskia was cut off by another assailant.

"Do you drug everyone before you fight?" I twirl the sword in my hand. "Many men suffer from performance issues, but I've heard with the right remedy—"

He growls and advances, but I don't trust my arm to block his blow, so I duck behind him and slice through a weak spot in his armor. I would've sliced his neck, but my arms feel like they're weighed down by stones. The woman comes at me, and I hear the faint sound of a bow nocking an arrow. I feign ignorance and use her anger to my advantage, blocking her sword and pulling her to my side as an arrow cuts through the air and pierces her neck. I pull a knife from my thigh and spin into my throw, using the extra momentum to concentrate on my aim and pierce the assassin on the ground between his eyes with a sickening crunch.

My muscles cry and my body urges me to collapse, but my mind keeps me fighting. It's always been my sharpest weapon. Before I had a blade, I had the determination to survive in spite of my circumstances. The top of my arm stings from a freshly cut gash, and my blood splatters on the stones below.

My vision blurs around the edges and the hilt of my blade is slippery with blood.

I will not die tonight, I promise myself.

The spin made me dizzier than I anticipated, and I teeter to the side under the weight of my sword. A crisp slap echoes against the shop-lined street, and my cheek blazes and my jaw throbs. The stones rush up to meet me and scrape my palms.

I push myself up halfway before he delivers a swift kick to my ribs. Using the momentum of the hit, I scramble to my feet as an arrow shoots from behind and sinks into his upper arm.

I could nearly cry with relief when I recognize the feathers.

For the first time tonight, fear flashes through his eyes before he bolts down the street, zigzagging out of Finnian's aim. I take a few steps in his direction before another wave of dizziness washes over me and my legs give out. A pair of hands grip me and hoist me up before my knees hit the road.

"Go get the commander." Ryder's snarl vibrates against my back. "Follow that man!"

"He'll worry too much," I protest, but a horse is already barreling toward the border.

"He's going to do a lot more than worry."

I'm ripped away from Ryder, and I close my eyes against the sudden movement. My entire body tingles like thousands of grains of sand are dusting across my skin. I hiss when Finnian grips my upper arm, and I hear his low curse when he notes the blood.

"The consequence correctors haven't failed me yet, Finny," I slur.

"I shouldn't have let you go. Fuck. FUCK! "

I open my eyes to stare into his panic-filled gaze. "It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself, please."

"I don't care how many soldiers it takes. I want every inch of Ladislava searched! Be on standby for further orders from Commander Veles, and I expect a report to the manor within the hour." The vein in Ryder's temple is popping out as he gives orders to several soldiers on the street. "I also want to know where the fuck the soldiers on rotation are, and I want them brought forward."

I hadn't realized how much of a crowd Saskia acquired from the tavern. I do my best at feigning that I'm unaffected, but it probably makes me look worse, so I sink into Finnian while my eyes dart around the rooftops searching for another threat.

"Your Majesty, did you inflict any bodily wounds on him?" an older man with amber eyes and a Vareveth cloak asks, bowing his head when our gazes meet.

"I cut him on his back and Finnian shot an arrow through his arm."

He nods. "Move out, soldiers! You heard Her Majesty. Find the bastard and bring him to the commander."

Finnian hoists me in his arms and follows Ryder to some tied-off horses. He holds me so tight his fingers will probably leave marks once he puts me down, but I note the way his body has relaxed. I've always loved the way Finnian views the world, and I take on the role of protector to ensure that he never loses his optimistic gaze. Even now, drugged in his arms, I continue scanning the perimeter for threats because I'll always throw myself in front of Finnian, even if I know I'll lose.

"I've got her," Ryder says as Finnian sets me on his horse. "Follow me and keep alert." My eyes fall shut to stop myself from vomiting as Ryder urges the horse through the roads, keeping an arm around my waist.

"I shouldn't have been so careless," he says above the clattering hooves, his tone drenched in remorse and anger.

"Don't apologize; it makes me uncomfortable."

"Noted." He huffs a laugh in my ear. "Then how about I buy you a drink as a celebration for taking on three assassins while drugged?"

"Perfect," I mutter as I note the paint caked under his fingernails through my blurry vision. "You're a painter."

"I dabble. I'm not very good."

"Anyone who says that is usually lying." My stomach continues churning painfully. "Are we close?"

"Just up the road," he promises, yanking lightly on my braid before wrapping his arm around my waist again. "I'll hold your hair back if I have to, Atarah."

Thankfully that's not needed once the horse slows, and I get my bearings as Ryder guides us through an open set of iron gates with gold detailing and up a dirt path lined with dense trees. It's like I've entered another world when my vision clears, and a house set upon sprawling lands comes into view. A fountain with an open-mouthed dragon sits at the center of the entry circle. Ivy creeps along turrets adorned with stained-glass windows. My vision is still blurry and the full moon hangs above the house like its dark stones were made to be bathed in moonlight, but I spy the night sky, mountains, maybe even some flowers in the stained-glass windows.

Finnian hops off his horse and reaches for me. He takes me in his arms again and moves so quickly that I'm forced to shut my eyes against the blurring world around me.