Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
D read coils through my gut at the sight of her. Time slows, and I suck in a deep breath. The door closes behind me with an echoing click, and I slide the hilt of my knife into one of my pockets.
Maertisa holds my stare as I crane my neck to look up at her. Her expression shifts, turning into the same cunning smile she’d worn when she captured Raphael.
“I told Vidal you looked familiar,” she barks. “The royal prince’s bride—a human agent. Arwenna was right about you.”
I hide my shaking hands behind my back. “You’ve got it backward,” I tell her, keeping my voice calm. “I’m a spy. That much is true. But I work for Auberon on the King’s Watch. I spy on Avalon Tower for him. And now, I spy for him on the royal prince. I’m not a human agent , you idiot.”
“You, a member of the King’s Watch?” She lets out an amused laugh. “That’s a rich tale.”
I shake my head slowly. “What’s more likely, Maertisa? That a human agent found her way to Brocéliande and somehow managed to marry the prince, or that the king’s undercover agent finished one job and was assigned to another? For once in your life, think this through. Auberon won’t take kindly to anyone messing with the King’s Watch.”
I see a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but she’s too sharp to be convinced so easily. Within a few seconds, she’ll examine all the angles and figure out the holes in what I just said. Already, her eyes are trailing down to where my dagger is hidden. I can’t afford to wait.
I lunge forward, and time slows, an ancient power thrumming through my muscles and blood. Just as I strike, she slashes back. She’s Maertisa, one of the deadliest Fey captains in existence, and she’s swift as lightning.
Her curved knife blocks my attack. The blades screech against each other, and my thrust merely cuts her fingers. She hisses and strikes back, her knife cutting deep into my arm. I let out a grunt but manage to hang on to my knife. As she hunches over, cradling her injured hand, I headbutt her, slamming into her nose with a satisfying crunch. She stumbles back, blood running down her chin.
I lunge past her and sprint down the hall, moving faster than ever, my wrists tingling with cold magic. If Maertisa cries for help, I’m fucked. If she runs to find her brother, I’m done for, too.
I glance over my shoulder. She’s barreling after me, her face twisted with rage. I’m leading her away from the banquet now. All I need is to buy a little time.
Adrenaline surges through me, pushing me faster, harder, as I dart up the stairs. I hope the palace’s top floor will be empty of staff and guards. I leap up the stairs two at a time and look back at the top of the stairway. My gut sinks. Despite the broken nose, she’s catching up quickly, and now she’s only a few feet away.
I crash through a nearby door and into what looks like a room in the servants’ quarters. Hurrying to the edge of the room, I whirl to face her. My back to the wall, I hold my blade in front of me, catching my breath.
Maertisa steps into the room, her eyes bright. Her face is smeared with blood, her teeth bared in a snarl. She looks absolutely horrifying. “Now.” She spits blood on the floor. “We’re going to have some fun, you and I. Break some of those dainty little fingers. Perhaps I’ll cut off your ears and see if they’re fake. And then…” Her jaw goes slack, and she shakes her head. “And then…” She stumbles against a bedpost, her gaze unfocused.
“Something wrong, Maertisa?” I ask.
“I’ll cut off your ears.” She slumps, her features slackening.
“You already said that.” A slow smile curls my lips, and I raise my blade, still bloody from where I cut her. “Ever heard of aconite? It’s a poison, deadly for humans and Fey alike. And it’s running through your blood right now.”
Her eyes widen, and the blood drains from her face. “You bitch.”
“When last we met, you took Raphael away. He was imprisoned and tortured for months.”
I don’t even know if she can hear me anymore. She looks about to drop. The knife in her hand clatters to the floor.
“This is for him.” I lunge forward and plunge my dagger into her gut, twisting it.
She stares at me, her features contorted with horror. Her jaw falls, and she hunches over, grabbing hear lacerated stomach. A crimson drop of blood falls from her lips.
“Vidal,” she whispers. She collapses to the floor, her muscles going slack.
I let out a shuddering breath, my knife dripping with her blood and my heartbeat roaring in my ears.
Catching my breath, I turn toward the doorway.
Talan leans against the doorframe, his arms folded over his broad chest. His dark eyes burn with molten copper rings as he stares at me.