Chapter Thirty-One
Alora caught a glimpse of auburn hair before it jerked away from view, a visceral grunt of pain the only sound.
William is here?
There had been no knock. No calling of her name. Instead, she’d heard the doorknob rattle. She’d heard scraping. Like a lock being picked.
Alora’s body flushed white hot. Then she flung open the door.
Bash had given up his fracturing of light.
His dark hood hung until it caressed William’s face, his glove around the other man’s throat, squeezing.
She didn’t know if he’d replaced his mask or if he was simply that angry, but his voice scraped up his throat as he said, “I should have done this from the beginning.”
William choked, a gurgling sound escaping his mouth that made Alora’s stomach twist. He folded backward, his back touching the stoop’s edge, his head and shoulders open to the free air on the opposite side.
Beneath the lamplight spilling from behind her, his sea-glass gaze caught hers and held.
Once, she’d thought that if William grew bored enough, he’d set her afire alongside him.
She’d brushed it off as an unwelcome thought, without meaning.
But she looked into his eyes now, and she saw the truth of it.
If he were to go down, he would bring her right with him.
“Alora,” he gasped.
“Do not speak to her.”
William’s eyes shuttered. A heartbeat later, his knee came up. He risked toppling over the side, but it was one he took, and when it connected with Bash’s middle, a rush of air burst from Alora at the same moment a grunt of pain escaped the Urchin captain. His grip faltered.
William slipped free like an eel, sinking to a crouch to avoid the swipe of Bash’s fist. When he surged upward again, it was with a blow of his own, the sound excruciating as it connected with the Urchin’s jaw.
William bled from a new cut on his cheekbone and his lower lip.
The rest of him was clear and without so much as a bruise; he’d been seen by a healer, and a good one at that.
It angered her that she carried the marks of his fingers on her wrist, but he showed nothing from her.
As awful as William’s punch had sounded, Bash didn’t falter.
In seconds, he swept his brother up about the middle, sending him crashing to the white stone in a lung-crushing fall.
This time, William’s knees were useless, as the Urchin straddled his hips and pressed a black-clad forearm to his windpipe.
“Did he…tell you,” ground out William. “That he…used to douse…me…with oil…and set it…alight?”
However it was possible, Bash pressed harder. A gurgle left William, saliva running from the corner of his mouth. He tried turning to the side, but Bash followed him, relentless. Alora was sure she’d vomit over the horror of it.
“Bash…” she whispered.
For the second time, William’s eyes fluttered closed.
“Bash!”
A hiss of pain, of surprise, echoed from beneath Bash’s hood.
A moment later, and he was rolling away, his hand pressed to his side.
William coughed and spluttered, curling into a fetal position as his hands encircled his throat.
When Bash staggered back, Alora caught a glimpse of a handle.
Or a hilt. It protruded from his side, embedded fully.
White noise built inside her head.
William jerked when rope lashed his ankles together—his wrists too.
He stared down at them in disbelief before his gaze sought hers.
She didn’t allow him a glance. Instead, she rushed toward Bash, to where he stood, his hand reaching to grip the blade.
With a curse, he yanked it free. The knife was wicked, serrated, and long.
A blade meant for killing. It clattered to the stones.
Alora immediately added her hand to his to stem the flow from the wound.
“I don’t think it’s healthy to bleed so much in a single day,” he murmured.
“It isn’t,” said Alora, panicked. “Where is the Urchin healer?”
“Likely at Opulence.”
He pressed his opposite hand atop hers, sandwiching her fingers between. She stacked her opposite, too, for good measure. Even so, she could feel wet against her palms. His blood, again.
She should be thankful he was still standing, she supposed.
But then again, no, she wasn’t thankful at all. She pulled her hands free, which the Urchin grunted at. “Bring up your shirt.”
“Are you going to stitch me closed?”
Alora shuddered at the idea. “Absolutely not. You need someone to heal whatever is cut apart internally. But I can bind it at least. Our hands seem to be useless.”
“As useless as they may be, I don’t think I can release it.”
“Fine,” said Alora. “I’ll do it then.” Reaching beneath his coat, she hauled at his shirt. When it came free from his trousers, she imagined every button undone.
“A trick I’d like to see under different circumstances,” whispered Bash, and cleared his throat weakly.
“Stop it.” She scowled as she pushed the fabric aside. In her hands were now stacked bandages and wrappings. She folded them quickly. “I’m ready. Let go.”
He did as told, his hands coming free to fall at his side. Alora finished pulling the cloth from his skin, though it came away slow and sticking. Her mouth filled with saliva, but she swallowed it down. She was too proud to empty her stomach in front of William.
When the wound was at last revealed to her, it was deceptively small. Blood pulsed from its opening, not far above his hip, coloring his pale skin red. “Hold this all away from your waist so I can wrap it. If you can,” she added, gentler than before.
“Anything for you,” said Bash, but she could hear the difference in his voice; it was tight with pain.
Still, he hauled up the fabric, his coat and shirt knotted in his grip until his entire torso was revealed to her.
Alora pressed the bandages to the wound at once.
His muscles bunched just beneath the surface as he hissed over the discomfort she’d unfortunately caused.
“Just a moment more,” she said quietly so as to bely her terror.
While holding the bandage in place, she worked the wrapping around his back.
She had to press up against him to reach, and his smooth skin was warm where it touched her.
Her fingers brushed against his back, side, then abdomen, and her gaze dipped to his low-slung trousers before making another pass. She cleared her throat.
With the bandage tied off and secure, Alora stepped back.
He released his clothing immediately, but being as it was no longer buttoned, his shirt hung open on either side.
He made no move to fix it, and his sculpted chest showed thin, white lines now.
She grimaced in remembering the specter wolves’ bloodied marks.
“You need a doctor. Stay here. I’ll call for one,” she said, meaning to hurry away down the steps.
“No.” Bash reached to stop her as she passed by him, his arm corralling her about the waist. “Necros is below. I’ll ride to Opulence.”
“You really think you can make it all that way? The doctor will be closer.”
“With this bandage, I could probably make Eirian.”
His tone was light, but Alora couldn’t suppress the involuntary shudder at the mere mention of the name. “What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing. Only I don’t appreciate you making a mockery over nearly dying again. For all I know, you could pass out from blood loss on the road, and nobody would find you until morning.”
“Necros won’t allow me to fall.”
“I hate that name,” muttered Alora.
Bash ignored her opinion, choosing instead to make quick work of his shirt’s buttons. His breaths were labored by the time he was through, his hand coming up to press against his side. His sigh was long-suffering as he reached inside his coat. Alora gasped at what he removed.
It was Mortimer’s weapon. Or one just like it. Bash pushed a dart into the chamber.
“What are you doing?” she said, and her voice shook.
Was this what he planned to reveal to me that day? Obviously it was not a pen, but it would certainly have relayed a message. It was so much worse than a baton, its own sort of death.
The Urchin captain paused, taking the time to scan her face. She could see his eyes beneath the hood, and they were narrowed. “Taking care of William, once and for all. What? Did you think I would use this on you?”
“I…”
Bash’s expression fell to darkness before he turned from her.
William hadn’t spoken since he’d been on the verge of suffocation.
But now, seeing his brother step over him, he attempted again.
His voice was rough as gravel dirt, grating up his throat.
Alora winced in hearing it, certain the activity must hurt even worse than it sounded.
He heals quicker than all of us, she reminded herself, lest she get too upset.
“You can’t do this,” pleaded William. “I’m as much his son as you are.”
“As in you are as useful to him as I am? Don’t tell me you believe he harbors some affection for you? If he does, it’s kept well hidden. The only thing he’ll miss is the draw you brought to Door Eighteen. Nothing more.”
They were such harsh parting words. Alora covered her mouth, though it wasn’t enough to hide her sharp intake of air. The Urchin’s hood shifted toward her a fraction before turning back.
“I’m not a fool. I know what we were traded for.”
Bash knelt beside him. “Then be thankful I’m releasing you from this prison at last. And who knows, Brother. Perhaps I’ll follow you out afterward.”
Alora only managed one step forward before the dart met William’s neck.
He didn’t release even a grunt of pain before his eyes closed.
For all appearances, he might have been sleeping.
The silence stretched on. From a street away, she could make out the sound of carriage wheels.
From beyond that, she heard a nightingale.
It all sounded so ordinary. Still, Bash knelt unmoving beside William.
Alora sniffed, and it was loud in the quiet. “Are you well?”
“Well enough,” he replied. With a groan, he pushed to his feet, then bent. His arms made to lift beneath William’s.
“No, don’t do that.” She hurried forward and pressed against Bash’s shoulder. “I’ll help.” A stretcher materialized beneath the performer. She reached to grab hold at his feet. “Where do we go?”
“Down the steps, to start.”
Alora nodded as Bash gripped the handles near William’s head. Together, they lifted, and William was light as a feather between them. She’d gone above what she would have normally done; the imagined stretcher gave lightness to whatever was inside it. Bash huffed an incredulous breath.
At the bottom of the stairs, in a shadowed alleyway, they found Necros waiting.
He stared at them with a calculating expression, so much so that Alora wondered if perhaps he wasn’t like other horses.
She lifted as high as she could and observed Bash ease his brother onto the horse’s back so that William draped sideways across the animal.
The stretcher clattered to the ground when it was done, Alora dropping it without care.
“You’re taking him to Opulence? Won’t everyone have questions?”
“You forget what I am.” With a moan grinding behind his teeth, Bash lifted into the saddle. When his breathing steadied after some moments, she felt the shift of his attention to her. “You told me once that this project brings you hope. Is your dream worth seeing it through?”
Alora frowned up at him. “Are you asking me to abandon it?”
“No,” he said. “But it’s still a question I would like the answer to. I know you well enough now to realize your choices aren’t unwise.”
She snorted. “Truly? All of them?”
His tone turned grave. “Perhaps not. You did choose to associate with me, after all.”
“That was hardly a choice,” Alora said, wanting to diffuse the darkness rising between them.
But it didn’t seem to work. She wished she could see his expression behind the silence, but as it was the shadows were deep in the alley, where the moon couldn’t reach, and his hood eclipsed even those.
“No, the project isn’t worth the money for my shop.
Not at all. But I’ll see it through anyway, as my reasons have changed. ”
Necros shifted beneath the stagnant weight. She could tell the creature yearned to move on. Bash took up the reins. “I won’t tell you to run and abandon it then, even if I’d feel infinitely better if you decided to do so. I will say, at least, don’t allow him to sign you to another contract.”
“I won’t,” said Alora, shaking her head vehemently. If she got her way in the end, Merridon would never be allowed to offer another contract to anyone ever again.
Necros was granted several steps forward before he was halted a second time. At the toss of his head, she shuffled backward, wondering if Bash had ever been bitten. “I would never hurt you, Alora. I want you to realize.”
Her mind immediately went to the weapon concealed somewhere on his person. I know, she nearly said. What she did say was, “Even if you thought I would be helped in the end?”
“Even then.”
She stared down at her bare feet, every part of her body suddenly weighed down and impossibly heavy. She bit at her lip. “Hurry on now, before your bandage gives way.”
“I have the utmost faith in it.” His head dipped and Necros sidestepped, eager to be off. “Really, I have the utmost faith in you.”
The shadows deepened, the light breaking, and all Alora could make out was a vast darkness before it was gone.