15. Friends that Slay Together Stay Together
FRIENDS THAT SLAY TOGETHER STAY TOGETHER
DAWN
Riven was in a mood. You knew someone long enough, you could tell. His jaw was always tight. He never said much. But tonight, he was—Dawn didn’t know how else to put it—moody.
It was his idea to be out here too. He’d taken some maps from Talia’s office, said this was the route they were taking the fluxborn.
They were crouched on a rocky ridge above the Queen’s Way, a couple hours north of town.
The night smelled like rain, and Riven smelled like horse.
Dawn’s calf was starting to cramp. She was ready to call it off when he lifted a hand.
One round lantern came over the horizon.
Then another. Then a line of them, bobbing into view.
“That’s not one wagon,” Dawn said.
Riven didn’t look surprised. “Nope. It’s four, at least.”
“Shit.” One wagon would be fun. Four wagons might get messy.
“Good thing we’re good at this.” Riven’s smile showed teeth.
The wagons matched Riven’s description. Wide, low-set wooden frames with metal cages strapped on. The vinegar stink of fluxborn was hard to miss. Riven’s hand touched her shoulder, a warning. She was growling.
“I’m with you,” he said, “but we need a plan.”
There were at least a dozen guards down there, best she could count in the shifting lantern light. The wagon-cage contraptions were better lit, clustered together near the back of the procession. The numbers weren’t great, but they’d handled worse.
“Hit in front of the wagons,” Dawn said. “Split the line.”
Riven nodded. Then he launched himself into the darkness.
It was a decent drop. Dawn waited a full beat before she heard his boots hit the ground.
A guard started to shout, but it ended in a gurgle.
She listened as blades whistled through the air and made contact with metal and flesh. The scent of blood carried on the wind.
Dawn fired from the ridge until someone shouted to douse the lanterns. That killed her line of sight. The burn of powder and gun smoke filled her lungs. She reloaded both revolvers before dropping down herself.
The impact shot pain up her shins, but she ran for the cages. Slammed her revolver into one guard’s jaw, felt bone give, shot him in the chest. Paused to take stock. A couple of the wagons were burning. Smoke everywhere. Shouts and howls echoed strangely in the haze.
Riven stalked through the smoke, crouched, then vaulted on top of a cage. Rifle fire flashed from three different angles. Dawn’s heart jumped—what the fuck—but he was already cutting into the roof. He gripped the top edge of the cage and threw his weight. The whole thing crashed over.
Two huge direcats lunged out of the busted cage, started tearing into the soldiers. Good idea. Let the fluxborn do some work. More figures appeared through the smoke. She put rounds into anyone who tried to get the fluxborn under control.
The convoy held longer than it should’ve. These were trained soldiers. They tried to regroup, but Dawn pulled a flux fuse from her vest and threw it under the last wagon. Pink and green flames licked up the sides, and the fluxborn inside howled as they burned.
The fight died fast after that. When the dust settled, they had two prisoners left alive. One of them had a broken leg, and Riven held the other at sword point.
“You talk, you live,” Dawn said, looking between the two of them. “I don’t need two of you.”
She grabbed the one who could walk, dropped him on his knees. He didn’t break till she turned away.
“Haven! The cages were going to Haven—”
The other guard snarled at him to shut up so Dawn shot him.
“You win,” she said. “Keep talking.”
He babbled about delivery times and handlers’ names, nothing else useful. She shot him too. He hadn’t won anything.
Dawn told herself it was part of the job. She’d put plenty of men in the ground. But her hands shook after. Riven didn’t say a word.
It was a long walk back to where they’d tied the horses. Dawn’s shoulder was bleeding bad. Took a bullet, apparently. She’d live. She checked Riven up and down. Not a scratch. She’d be damned if he sulked the whole way back too.
“So, what’s your plan?” she asked. “Talia’s got her own personal enforcer captain now. You gonna say something?”
“What would I say?” His voice was flat. “She’s engaged. I’m just watching her back.”
She’d never known Riven to be jealous. Something else was going on. “She’s paying for that?”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was careful. “In a way.”
“Don’t do that half-answer thing with me,” Dawn snapped. “What is the job?”
He flinched. “I’m keeping an eye on her. For her family.”
“Wait, you’re spying on her?”
“She can’t go with Lore,” he growled. “That man is dangerous, and she trusts too easily.”
“Yeah, exactly, she trusts you. Have you seen the way she looks at you?”
“I told her not to trust me.” He paused. “It was a mistake. I need to put an end to it.”
“But there’s a contract, right?” she asked. He just grunted. “You’d break a contract? That’s—fuck, that’s not nothing.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Not the first time.”
Dawn blew out a breath. Sure, there was one time he’d gone against his word in his entire fucking life. He’d broken his oath for her. Look how that had gone.
The rain had started. Soon she was drenched through. Shivering. Mud pulled on her boots with every step. Every time she closed her eyes, rifles flashed behind her eyelids. She was a long way from bed.
“You catch where that crew was headed?” she asked, switching gears.
“Haven.”
She’d heard the same thing. Was hoping to be wrong.
“It’s a military outpost,” she offered. “Pentarchy. Way up north.”
He just grunted.
“We’ll go that way to Valrotala,” she said. “I can take out the rest of the fluxborn then. If that’s where they’re at.”
“You’re really doing that? Going there?”
She couldn’t come up with anything better to say than the truth. “Lore has a lead on Ehrue.”
It hurt to say her name out loud. Dawn wondered, not for the first time, if she was alive at all. Even if she was, how much would Lore ask for before he delivered?
“Truly?” Riven knew how much that meant.
“Yep.” She breathed out long and slow. “You should come too. It’ll be fun. Old times and all that.”
He huffed through his nose. Gruff and unimpressed as ever. Then he reached out and took her hand. Squeezed it.
“I’m sorry, Thauni.”
Hearing her true name brought a rush of grief she didn’t have a place for. She pictured Ehrue’s face. Memories burned in her throat, where tears might once have been. She squeezed his hand back. Tighter than she meant to.
“Yeah. Me too.”