Chapter 7 Isi
ISI
Iran through shadows, my breathing rasping around me. Smoke clogged the air so thickly, it choked off my lungs. My mother called out my name, and it echoed off the stone walls behind me, taunting, clawing, reaching…
I turned a corner and smacked into a door. Whimpers bubbled from my mouth as I wrangled with the handle, but it wouldn’t open.
A hand caught my wrist. Cold. Nails digging deep.
“Found you,” someone snarled in my ear.
I jerked awake, gasping, wondering where in the world I was. Reality crashed back into me. The dormitory. The castle. The court of my enemies.
The bunk beside me creaked, and someone murmured in their sleep.
My heart pounded as I stared into the dark, waiting for the nightmare to dissolve.
Around me, seven others slept soundly, lost in dreams that hadn’t ended in pursuit.
I let out a slow breath and sank back against the mattress.
Just a dream.
But the feeling of being hunted wouldn’t leave.
A guy across the room snorted, rolled over, and resumed his steady snoring.
My bladder pressed against my spine like a fist.
Slipping from beneath the blanket, I padded barefoot across the cold stone floor. The door creaked as I eased it open, and I slipped out into the arched stone hallway.
The corridor stretched in both directions, lit by flickering torches that made shadows waver across the walls. I moved toward the room with the facilities on silent feet, hyperaware of every sound in this place where my enemies slept.
The bathroom was mercifully empty and while I was there, I took time to lift my sleeping shirt and turn, examining my back in the mirror. Three slightly pink welts dissecting from my right shoulder to my lower back. I wet a cloth and gently blotted at them, though they’d never been open.
They hurt, though only deeply now. It would take time for that to heal. The pain in my chest from what my father had done would never go away.
After straightening my tunic and pants, I stepped out into the hall. The flutter of wings echoed from the area on my right.
I spun in that direction as a shadow detached itself from an alcove.
He was maybe thirty, had medium build, and was unremarkable except for the knife glinting in his hand. Brown hair. A forgettable face. I vaguely recognized him from the dining hall.
“I know who you are,” he hissed, leaping toward me with the blade aimed at my throat.
I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and drove my knee up toward his elbow. The joint twisted outward with a wet pop that echoed off the stone walls.
He didn’t even grunt. Instead, he twisted out of my grip and switched the knife to his other hand, slashing toward my chest in one smooth motion.
I threw myself backward as the blade whispered through the front of my thin sleep tunic, leaving a small slash. This wasn’t some desperate recruit trying to eliminate competition. This was someone with real skill, the kind of person Commander Thorne would have studied and respected.
He came at me again, the knife moving in patterns I recognized. His footwork was too precise, his balance too perfect. Military training, then. I suspected he’d been doing this for years for someone else.
As I ducked under his swing, his free hand shot out and grabbed the chain dangling from my throat.
Addie’s chain with the pendant. The metal bit into the skin at my nape as he used it to yank me forward.
A twist of his hand, and the delicate links cut off my air.
Stars burst across my vision as he hauled me around, positioning me for a killing blow.
I clawed at his grip, panic flooding my system as the chain tightened like a noose.
I drove my fist toward his solar plexus while wrenching my body sideways.
The chain snapped with a sharp ping, and Addie’s pendant flew away, hitting the stone floor with a delicate chime.
He twisted, taking my blow on his ribs instead of his throat, his knife swipe nearly opening my neck to my spine.
We separated, circling each other in the narrow hallway. Both of us were breathing hard now, the testing phase over.
He feinted left, and I ignored the move. When he committed to the right, I was already flowing into the form Thorne had beaten into my muscle memory. I shot my hand out, striking the nerve cluster in his wrist. His fingers spasmed, but he held onto the blade.
Stubborn fool.
He tightened his grip and stabbed downward. I caught his wrist with both hands, twisting and using his momentum to throw him against the wall. Stone shuddered under the impact, but he rolled with it, coming at me with a second knife in his other hand.
Two blades now. Fuck.
He pressed his advantage, alternating strikes in a rhythm designed to overwhelm me. Left blade high, right blade low. I gave ground, focusing on not dying as steel traced silver arcs through the torchlight.
The right blade caught my forearm, slicing through my tunic sleeve. Fire bloomed along my skin, and blood ran hot down to my wrist.
I smiled.
His eyes widened, and that moment of surprise was all I needed.
I flowed into the deadliest sequence Thorne had taught me.
Three lightning-fast steps that brought me inside his guard.
A twist of my arm sent his left-hand blade spinning away.
It hit the floor and clattered down the hall.
Snapping out, I plunged my thumb into the pressure point at the base of his skull. His right arm went numb.
The second knife dropped to the floor by our feet.
Pivoting, he tried to knee me in the ribs. I slipped sideways, caught his leg, and swept out with my other, removing his remaining support. He went down hard, his head cracking on stone.
Before he could recover, I snatched up the closest blade and leaped, landing hard enough on his chest to drive the wind from his lungs. The steel in my hand slid between his ribs with a sound like tearing cloth, finding the gap between bone and sinking deeper.
He looked down at the handle protruding from his chest, and his breath stuttered. Blood frothed at the corners of his mouth as his lungs filled.
“Tell me who sent you,” I hissed.
He tried to speak, but only managed a wet gurgle before his eyes went vacant.
Everything inside me recoiled. I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t. The warmth on my hands wasn’t mine, and the stink of his blood hit me a second later. Metallic, hot, and too real.
I didn’t feel triumph. Only the throb of my pulse and the weight of what I’d done.
I slid off him and sagged against the wall, my wounded arm burning like someone had poured dirt into the cut. Hey, at least something hurt more than my back. My legs shook with the aftermath of adrenaline, and I could taste metal where I’d bitten the inside of my cheek.
Blood ran down my wrist, slick and hot, and I’d need to tend to my wound. As soon as I caught my breath and…I stared at the man who’d tried to murder me.
This wasn’t my first kill. That had come when I was thirteen, a man who’d been more interested in trying to grope me than in what I was doing with the gardening fork in my mother’s favorite flowerbed.
The cold weight of fear I’d felt then still eviscerated me.
The taste of garlic from the brutal press of his mouth.
And the way my hands had shaken as I released the fork’s handle, watching as he toppled back onto the grass with it buried in his chest.
Commander Thorne had arrived as I dropped to my knees, reaching out as if yanking the fork from the man’s chest would bring him back to life.
Thorne had spoken to me gently, tugging me away and putting me in his office.
Said everything would be alright. He disposed of the body, then told me to be in the training room at six the next morning.
After that, he worked with me every day, teaching me not only how to survive, but how to dominate. Every trick and every secret I knew I owed to him.
My eyes swept the corridor until I spotted the glint near the wall.
Addie’s pendant lay on the stone, catching the torchlight.
I lunged forward and snatched it up, closing my fingers around it.
The chain had been broken, but the pendant itself appeared undamaged other than the pale blue stone that had already been missing.
I slipped it into the pocket of my pants.
Slow clapping echoed down the hallway.
I scrambled for the other blade and leaped to my feet, my heart plunging into my throat.
Trew emerged from the shadows like a predator from darkness itself. As he stalked toward me, each of his steps showed fluid grace and barely contained violence.
“Impressive,” he drawled, his hands falling to his sides. “I’m starting to think you have an unhealthy obsession with sharp objects.” Before I could react, his hand shot out, and he twisted the knife from my grip, plucking it away. “Can’t have you taking another poke at me, can we, minxpip?”
“I didn’t—” I pressed my lips together. No point denying what we both knew.
“Oh, I think you did.” His sardonic gaze raked over me, taking in my defensive stance, the blood on my arm, and the way I’d positioned myself between him and the exit. “Interesting form you used there. Not from around here, is it?”
I kept my mouth shut.
“Your technique could use work. That slash he got in?” He gestured at my bleeding forearm. “Sloppy. You gave away your move. Next time, keep your guard higher. And don’t hesitate. When you commit to the kill, do it completely.”
“I don’t need fighting lessons from you.” I hated how breathless I sounded.
“No? Then maybe I should test your other skills instead.” His gaze fell on my mouth.
My body overheated. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I should run, put distance between us before I did something stupid. Instead, I wanted to rise on my toes and bite that smug mouth until he stopped looking at me like he knew all my secrets.
“Your ability to lie, for starters.” He stepped closer, backing me against the wall. “Tell me, minxpip, what else are you hiding?”
“Nothing.” I lifted my chin. “Go teach someone else. I killed him eventually, didn’t I?”
“Eventually.” His smile showed all teeth. “But eventually doesn’t help much when you’re bleeding out.”
That’s when I caught the reddish mark on the side of his neck, partially hidden by his collar. It was dark, possessive. Kira.
“Did she actually bite you?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. I wanted to claw the words back, but his smirk told me I was already too late.
She’d marked him. Kira had put her mouth on his throat and claimed him for everyone to see. Rage scraped at my chest, ugly and unwanted. I shut it down.
His hand rose to touch the area, and his smile turned predatory. “Jealous? If you ask nicely, I might let you leave your own mark. Though you’ll have to wait in line.”
The world tilted sideways. I pressed my back against the stone wall, my legs unsteady.
My magic stirred, responding to the jealousy I couldn’t contain. The torches along the corridor flickered, and the air around us shifted, charged and ready to go feral.
I shoved my magic down so hard it made my chest ache.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said coolly, though my pulse betrayed me.
“I rarely do.” His gaze dropped to my mouth again before returning to my eyes.
“But we’re getting distracted.” Turning, he nudged the dead man with his boot, studying the placement of the wound.
“Clean kill. Efficient.” His tone held the same detachment he might use to discuss the weather.
“Take care when you walk the halls, minxpip. Not everyone here plays as nicely as I do.”
I met his stare. “My name is Isi.”
“Is that so?” He stepped closer, near enough that I could smell cedar and something darker underneath. “Well then, Isi. It appears my minxpip does have claws.”
“I’m not yours,” I spat.
He stepped close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Close enough that when he spoke, his breath ghosted across my lips.
“We’ll see,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a rough murmur that made liquid heat pool low in my belly. Something dark and possessive flickered in his eyes.
I thought he might press me against this stone wall and claim my mouth the way Kira had claimed his throat.
He was too close, all heat and danger and command. My pulse still hammered from the fight, and my body didn’t know the difference between fear and want.
Ignore him, I told myself. He’s your enemy.
But enemies had never looked at me like I was something worth conquering.
Fury saved me. Blessed, cleansing fury that burned away whatever spell he’d tried to weave.
“You watched while someone attacked me,” I snarled. “You didn’t help me at all.”
His expression went cold. “Why would I step in? You’ve made it clear you don’t need saving.”
He delivered the words with such complete disdain that I felt exactly as small and insignificant as he clearly thought me to be.
Pivoting, he stalked away, his booted footsteps echoing off the stone walls until the darkness swallowed him completely.
I stood in the hall for a long moment, staring at the dead man at my feet and the blood on my arm.
Until the door to my dormitory room opened and Lexie stepped out, her braids twisted together from sleep. She took in the body, the blood, and my arm, and whistled low. “What happened?”
“They thought I was someone else,” I said. “They were wrong.”
She looked down again, then back at me. A slow grin spread across her face. “This is why I knew we should be friends.”
She bustled me into the bathroom and after running into a stall to go, came back to tend to my wound, tutting all the while. Then she took my hand and started to lead me back to our room like I was a child who’d fallen and scraped her knees.
I came to a full stop at our door and nudged my head toward the body. “I need to remove—”
“Leave it. Deny involvement if someone asks you about it in the morning.”
It was already too late for that. It appeared I’d given the King of Syllavar Court a weapon he could use against me at any time.
Inside, I slumped on my bed, Lexie tucking my blanket up around my chin like my mother used to do when I was small.
I fell asleep with her grin echoing in my mind, my own answering. Despite telling myself I needed to be forgettable, I’d made a friend.
My dreams were full of golden eyes and phantom touches, of a voice rough with promise whispering, “We’ll see,” against my mouth.
I couldn’t believe I found anything appealing in my enemy.
The worst part of all was that I suspected he knew exactly how I was feeling.