50. Clash of Stone and Steel #2
Samhail noted the wild look in her eyes as she took in the blood on the lord’s hands and down the front of his shirt. Samhail looked for injuries on Aidan, but Cyra’s cry a second later told him instantly what had happened.
They all looked down to see one of Talyn’s daggers – apparently pulled from her hand by Aidan – lodged in Reginald’s chest. The man’s eyes were wide, and they darted around as he coughed up blood.
“Fuck! Cyra!” Bressen said as he dropped to his knees next to the man. “Can you heal him?”
Bressen pulled the dagger from Reginald’s chest and made room for Cyra to kneel next to him. She put her hands over Reginald’s wound and began to heal him, but she lifted them a couple seconds later.
“It’s too late,” she said, sighing heavily. “He’s gone.”
Samhail stood stunned, the back of Aidan’s jacket still curled in his fist. He looked down at the lord and thought he saw…satisfaction?
What in the fucking hells had just happened?
Bressen stood slowly, his eyes on Aidan.
“Aidan, what did you do?” he asked softly.
Aidan’s chin went up a notch. “He tried to grab for the dagger in my hand. I defended myself.”
Bressen didn’t move, but Samhail felt his friend’s power pulse over them. The metal poles of the tent and the furniture inside all rattled as Bressen’s eyes flashed red with anger.
“We needed that man to find Sandrian,” Bressen said, his seemingly calm voice belying the rage Samhail knew was churning inside him. “You killed the only person who might’ve been able to help us find him before it was too late.”
“I was defending my life,” Aidan insisted.
“No thanks to this monstrosity and his assassin.” He waved his hand in disgust at Samhail and Talyn.
“She had her daggers out and was going to kill the man herself. You do remember she works for Sandrian, right? She wanted to kill him before he could spill his secrets.”
“No! I wasn’t going to kill him!” Talyn cried. She still stood back away from the group, her one remaining dagger clutched in her hand. She looked down at it as if remembering it was there and shoved it back into its sheath. She looked pleadingly at Cyra.
“You’re mistaken, Aidan,” Cyra said. “She’s telling the truth.”
Aidan huffed in annoyance and turned away. Samhail looked at Maziren to see what she thought of this, but she seemed as uncertain as ever as she slowly resheathed her blade.
“It seems we need to do things the hard way now,” Bressen said. “Samhail, you and the assassin had a plan to draw Sandrian out?”
Samhail jolted as reality came crashing back to him, and he met Bressen’s gaze.
“Sandrian has a bounty on my head,” he said. “Talyn was going to send him a message to say she captured me and get him to meet us.”
“Fine, we’ll do that then,” Bressen said.
Samhail dug in his pocket to pull out a message leaf. He put it on the table, and Bressen shifted his attention to Talyn. The lord held his hand out, inviting her forward to take the leaf.
Talyn looked like she’d prefer to bolt, and Samhail prayed she didn’t.
Finally she stepped forward, took the pen Bressen held out to her, and began to write on the leaf.
She finished a few seconds later and held it up to show Bressen.
He read it and nodded, and she held it between her middle and pointer fingers until it disappeared in a puff of smoke.
“And exactly what are we supposed to do when, or if, Sandrian answers?” Aidan asked.
“We arrange to meet, then set a trap for him,” Bressen said.
Aidan didn’t look impressed. “You’re going to get us all killed.”
Bressen raised a brow. “And what would your plan be?”
Aidan shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know. Continue raising our armies as you wanted and meet Sandrian on the battlefield.”
“So he can strike our forces down with his lightning?” Samhail asked.
He was starting to get annoyed with Aidan. This wasn’t the same cunning, deliberate lord he’d met back in Derridan months ago, the one who liked to outthink his enemies as much as fight them. What had happened to that man? He needed to ask Bressen if Aidan seemed off.
The minutes marched by while they waited for a reply.
“What’s taking so long?” Cyra asked finally.
“Perhaps Sandrian doesn’t trust his assassin anymore,” Bressen said as his eyes fell on Talyn, and her chin ticked up a notch.
Just then, a message leaf poofed into existence before Talyn, and she plucked it out of the air. She read it briefly and handed it to Bressen.
“Sandrian wants to meet tomorrow morning on the Rown border,” Bressen said after reading the leaf. “He sent coordinates.”
“Why tomorrow?” Cyra asked. “Why not now?”
“I’m not sure,” Bressen said. “He’s likely wary of a trap and wants to plan, which is fine, because we need to plan too.” He turned to Aidan. “Do we have your permission to enter Derridan tomorrow to meet with Sandrian?” he asked sardonically.
Aidan’s brows furrowed. “So long as you know I’ll be there as well to oversee things.”
Bressen cocked his head in amusement. “By all means, Lord Aidan. Oversee away.”
“Now, if you don’t mind,” Aidan said, “I need to get my men over here to clean up this mess.”
“Of course,” Bressen said with a nod. “We’ll leave you to it.”
Cyra was already tracing a circle in the air for a portal. She opened it wide and led the way as Samhail, Talyn, Bressen, and the twins followed.
As soon as it closed behind them back at Tide’s End, Bressen rounded on Samhail.
“We need to speak. Now,” he said to him.
Samhail nodded. He’d known this was coming.
“I’ll get Talyn settled in a room,” Cyra said.
“I already have a room here, my lady,” Talyn pointed out.
“In the servants’ quarters,” Cyra said. “It’s not really appropriate to have you stay down there anymore.”
Talyn hesitated. “And where would be more…appropriate?”
Cyra smiled. “Don’t worry. You won’t be back in a holding cell.”
Talyn relaxed, and she followed Cyra as the lady led her toward the guest floor, Surgeon and Serise falling in behind them.
Unease stirred in Samhail as he watched Talyn go. He didn’t like having her out of his sight, but he turned back to Bressen.
“Are we going to talk in your study?” he asked the lord. “Or will we be ‘talking’ out in the training yard like last time?”
Bressen considered the question. “Let’s start in my study,” he said, “and I’ll decide if we need to move our discussion to the training yard.”
Samhail nodded. “Lead the way. Just know that if we end up in the training yard again, I won’t let you win this time.”
Bressen raised a brow. “Let me win?”
“I took the hits last time because I felt guilty about what happened. This time I don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
Bressen’s brow rose higher, then he shrugged. “Very well. Let’s hear all about your adventures with the assassin. You have five minutes to convince me you don’t deserve a cell in Revenmyer next to hers.”