Chapter 42
Cole
Cole shoved Mistel behind him and lifted his sword into first position. Kurtz’s coaching came to mind. Feet steady. Hands loose. Breathe.
Thusk didn’t carry himself like a trained fighter, which gave Cole a sliver of hope his odds might be better than he thought. In fact, the man wasn’t even wearing a sword.
“We don’t want any trouble,” he said. “Just let us go.”
Thusk’s lip curled. “It’s too late for that. The girl has already been sold.”
A fiery surge swept over Cole. “You don’t have the right to sell anyone.”
“It’s not about rights,” Thusk said. “It’s about opportunity.
And I’m not letting a couple of minstrels get in my way.
” He gestured at them as if they were beneath notice.
“Deal with this. Make it quick and quiet, and don’t harm the girl.
We’ve a schedule to keep.” Thusk turned on his heel and walked toward the door. “The rest of you, we’re moving out.”
Cole eyed the clear path to the stairs. “Come on!” He grabbed Mistel’s hand and ran, only to slide to a stop when a man stepped into their path, sword in hand.
Drustan.
Cole’s former stepbrother grinned that canine snarl that had haunted Cole’s nightmares for so many years. “What’s the matter, Coley? You scared?”
Cole’s stomach twisted, but he met Drustan’s gaze head-on. Arman had made him strong and courageous. Bold as a cham. More than a conqueror. “Not this time.”
With a shout, Cole struck first. Drustan darted aside, laughing as he parried blow after blow with ease. Clashing steel rang out in the dark. Drustan’s attacks came fast, calculated, and though Cole deflected them, each strike sent jolts up his arms.
Drustan was clearly stronger, but that didn’t mean he was smarter.
The fight pressed on, fierce and unrelenting. Cole slashed across Drustan’s arm, drawing blood, but a second later, Drustan’s counterstrike nipped Cole’s side. He grimaced at the searing pain but refused to falter. Not this time. Never again.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Mistel grab something from a crate and hurl it at Drustan. A clay pot smashed against his shoulder and scattered shards across the floor.
Drustan staggered, and his gaze snapped toward Mistel.
Before he could go after her, Cole lunged forward and swung at his side.
Drustan twisted, barely evading the blade, and countered with a vicious downward slash.
Steel clanged against steel as Cole parried.
Drustan’s blade slid down Cole’s until their hilts locked.
“You think you’re a man now, Coley?” Drustan said. “You’ll always be a sniveling baby.”
Cole growled and shoved Drustan back. He struck again and again, driving him toward the crates. Drustan deflected each blow, wolfish grin steady.
Another pot sailed past Cole’s shoulder, straight for Drustan’s head. He ducked, and the clay shattered against the wall behind him.
Mistel was already reaching into the crate for another.
Drustan sprang toward her. Cole seized the opportunity and aimed a quick strike at Drustan’s thigh. The blade sliced a shallow line through his trousers. Drustan hissed and swung wildly, forcing Cole to leap back.
A third pot caught Drustan squarely in the chest. He stumbled and coughed as shards and dust rained around him.
“You little wretch.” He jabbed his sword at Cole, who shifted to block.
Drustan had been feinting, though, and while Cole overextended the reach of his block, Drustan spun toward Mistel.
“Get back!” Cole shouted, but it was too late.
Drustan drove his elbow against Mistel’s temple, and she crumpled to the floor. A fourth clay pot slipped from her fingers and rolled toward her feet.
“Mistel!” Cole yelled.
Drustan chuckled as he stalked toward Cole, sword gripped at his side. “Don’t worry, Coley. She’ll wake up—eventually. Once I’ve cut you to pieces.”
The sight of Mistel’s crumpled body ignited a fire in Cole’s chest. “You’re not taking anyone else from me.”
He charged, swinging his sword in a relentless barrage, each strike fueled by a mix of rage and desperation.
Drustan barely managed to parry the onslaught, his grin faltering as Cole drove him back step by step.
He was no longer a towering monster. He was a man who could bleed. And Cole would make him.
He gripped the sword with both hands and drove forward hard, jabbing at Drustan’s chest, swiping for his feet.
The clashing blades rang through the warehouse as their fight raged on, each blow louder than the last. Cole’s muscles burned, but he refused to falter, repeating Kurtz’s training in his mind.
Hold your ground. Don’t retreat.
Drustan’s sword flew from his hand and skidded behind a crate. He bolted toward it. Cole climbed over the crate and leaped down on the other side, landing between Drustan and his weapon.
“Yield,” Cole said.
Drustan drew a dagger from his belt. “I’d rather not.” He sprinted toward Mistel—who was now stirring—and slid on his knees beside her, dragging her up against him and pressing the blade to her throat.
She yelped, her hands flying to Drustan’s forearm.
“Drop the sword, or I’ll cut her,” Drustan said.
Cole froze. Memories crashed over him. A small boy, powerless, watching as Drustan and his brother, Fen, pinned down Peat. Hearing the helpless puppy yelp as the knife did its work.
Worse, Cole recalled Kurtz saying, “If a blade is at your skin, you’re dead.”
“Maybe I’ll give her scars to match the king.” Drustan mimed a slash down Mistel’s cheek. “Or I’ll start with her ears, like I did with that mutt of yours.” He shifted the dagger to hover over Mistel’s ear.
Something inside Cole snapped. “If that blade so much as touches her, you will die.”
“Ooh.” Drustan chuckled darkly. “Threats don’t sound much like threats coming from you, Coley.”
Yet if Drustan had wanted to kill Mistel, he would have done so already. Thusk needed her alive, and while Cole didn’t want to make the wrong choice when her life was at stake, all he could do was try and talk Drustan down.
“What’s the matter, brother?” Cole asked. “Using the girl to sneak in a rest? If you’re tired, just say so.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Then I guess you’re just a coward if you need to hide behind Mistel. You’ve always been a coward, Drustan. Hurting anything smaller than you to try and prove you’re strong. You want to fight me? Fight me like a man.”
Drustan growled and shoved Mistel away so hard, she fell to the floor.
Cole seized that moment to rush in and attack.
His blade struck Drustan’s dagger, then he swung around and thrust toward Drustan’s belly.
Drustan dodged, but not fast enough. Cole’s sword nicked him.
Teeth bared, Drustan jabbed his dagger at Cole, who parried easily, pushing Drustan back until his heels met the top edge of the stairs going down.
Drustan swung wildly. Cole blocked, and the force of his heavier blade against the smaller one broke the dagger in two. The tip clanged to the floor.
“Yield,” Cole said.
Drustan’s stare burned hot. “Never.”
He lunged for Cole’s waist. Cole whipped his sword in a brutal arc. The blade hit, jerking to a halt as it cleaved into Drustan’s middle.
Drustan dropped to the floor. Blood quickly soaked the front of his tunic. He gasped for breath, eyes wide as blood pooled on the floor beneath him.
Cole looked down on him, hands trembling. “I should cut you to pieces,” he said, “like you did to Peat.”
Drustan’s focus dimmed, and Cole waited, wanting to witness this man’s final breath, wanting to see justice done, wanting to—
“Cole?”
Mistel’s soft voice jerked him back from the abyss. He turned and met her gaze.
“Can we go?” she asked.
Cole glanced back at Drustan, whose lifeless eyes now stared at nothing. Cole wiped his sword clean on Drustan’s pant leg, then threaded his sword through the loop on his belt.
He took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s get you back to Fat Vandy’s.”
“No,” she said. “We’re going to get your father. Kurtz and Zanna might need help.”
He hoped they were already out and safe, but it would be good to make sure. Yet he didn’t want to lead Mistel right back into danger.
“Hey.” Mistel threaded her fingers with his and squeezed. “We’ll be okay. I just saw you fight. You’re amazing.”
Cole felt a flicker of something that came so rarely, he almost didn’t recognize it.
Worthiness.
Before he could dwell on it, Mistel slid her arms around his neck and kissed him.
The warmth of her lips seared through every layer of doubt he’d ever worn like armor.
For a heartbeat, the world stilled. Not because they were safe—they weren’t.
Not because the mission was over—it wasn’t.
But because, in that moment, Cole realized he was strong enough to protect what mattered. He was someone Mistel believed in.
She released him. “Let’s go find your father.”
Yes. They’d go help Kurtz and Zanna to make sure they succeeded. “First, we need to get outside,” he said. “The king is waiting.”
He led her to the door, and they stepped out into a cold blizzard, snow up to their shins and swirling around them in the dark night.
Cole made sure his shields were lowered and his mind open. “Your Highness?” he called.
A distant voice answered. “Haven’t seen him.”
Cole’s gaze snapped down the street to a man on horseback, holding a lantern. Lovell Dunn. Behind him, more riders approached, their dark silhouettes cutting through the snowy haze.
As the group gathered around them, Cole recognized Jol Quimby and five others: Torin Oxbow, Gunnar Gedmund, Lysander Thane, Thakkar Oruk and Alden Wroxton.
“Good to see you both on your feet and breathing,” Quimby said.
“Renshaw Thusk is selling Ice Island prisoners as slaves,” Cole said. “He and his men are around here somewhere.”
“Aye,” Dunn said. “We happened upon a few of them. No sign of Thusk, though.”
You found her! Achan’s voice burst between Cole’s ears. What took you so long? I was starting to worry.
I ran into a few snags, Cole thought. Any word from Kurtz?
Not in some time, Achan voiced. And you’ve been gone almost two hours.
Two? Kurtz should have been back by now. I’d like to see if they need help, Cole thought.
Good idea, Achan voiced. I’ll go with you as far as I can. I’d tell you to take some of Lord Livna’s men along, but even though they now know about Thusk, I’d still rather keep your involvement in the Marad a secret, if I can.
Cole heartily agreed. “Can someone give us a lift back to the Black Boar?” he asked Dunn. “We left our horses in the stables.”
“There really an underground tunnel from here to there?” Dunn asked.
“Just follow the stairs down,” Cole said. “You can’t miss it.”
Dunn dismounted. “Take Quimby’s and my horses,” he said. “Leave them in the stable at the Boar when you trade for yours. We’ll explore that tunnel and get our horses on the other end.”
Cole agreed, and before long, he and Mistel were riding Dunn’s and Quimby’s horses toward the Black Boar.
Adrenaline had filled him with energy. He’d defeated Drustan and saved them both from being sold.
Yet as they traded the horses for Cherix and Bart and rode toward Cliffwatch, Cole knew that their fight was far from over.