Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
W e left Kason’s suite a half-hour later, only to run into Telurin in the hall. I groaned upon seeing him and his entourage, but quickly stifled the noise when Kason elbowed me, gently, in the arm.
“Good morning, brother,” Kason greeted the crown prince with a nod. “Anything to report? How is Mother this morning?”
“Same as always,” Telurin stated blandly for the benefit of those surrounding us. The guards likely suspected something wasn’t right with the queen, but that didn’t mean the royals wanted to confirm it and risk word getting out, and panic resulting. “Where are you both off to?”
“The market,” Kason answered without hesitation. “I thought to buy Mokido something to celebrate his homecoming.”
“I trust you’ll be back in time for dinner?”
Kason glanced at me, and I said, “Um…”
Telurin frowned. “It’s important the entire family is present, even though it will be a small affair this evening. I’ll ensure appropriate clothing is sent to your rooms. You’ll need more formal wear as well, Kason.”
“Thank you, brother.” Kason grabbed my elbow and guided me away from the royal entourage. “We’ll be there.”
Once we were out of sight, I jerked my elbow out of Kason’s grasp. “I shouldn’t?—”
“You shouldn’t disobey an order from the man running the kingdom for the time being,” Kason said.
I almost shot back “ What do I care ?” but held my tongue because I did care. Maybe not about Telurin, crown prince or not, but about Kason and his relationship with his family. “Fine,” I grumbled. “But let it be known that I protested vehemently.”
“So noted.” Kason’s grin was small, but there. “Shall we try to find this Muirin then?”
It took very little effort to find out where Muirin was hiding.
We simply had to venture into the Slipshod again, with Kason acting as my lookout this time.
Then it was a matter of finding a sprite, guiding them into a nearby alley, showing my own ears, and offering a coin for the information I sought.
The sprite was the practical sort—as most in the Slipshod were—and a gold coin would go very, very far in this part of the city.
They provided an address, and I pulled my hood up before venturing back to Kason’s side.
I had expected the address I was given to belong to a warehouse or somewhat seedy pub, despite its location in the middle-class quarter.
Instead, I found myself standing before a two-story manor, a quite nice one at that.
Topiaries decorated the small front garden, lining the edges of a delicate white gravel-strewn pathway.
The house itself was painted in cheery pale yellow and pastel green, completely at odds with what I had assumed a woman named Muirin the Red would prefer.
A white picket fence, of all things, separated the front garden from the street, with a gate leading onto the path.
“This is…odd,” Kason said.
Very. I felt quite out of place in front of this storybook dwelling, in my worn leather adventuring gear, with patches at the knees and elbows.
I’m sure Kason felt much the same, garbed in his witch-hunter armor and cape.
A bold pin holding his ebony cape to his shoulders proclaimed his affiliation, and the steel cuffs at his wrists over his black leather armor revealed his rank as a senior hunter.
The barest hint of his marriage mark sneaked past the cuff on his left wrist, and for some reason, that glimpse of the thing that bound us made my breath hitch.
Despite the inappropriate timing, I wanted to tell him he looked very good.
I dragged my eyes away from him to survey the building in front of us once again.
If it had been a warehouse in an area of ill repute, I would have suggested finding a way in.
But trying to take that same action on this well-traveled street, in this nice neighborhood, would not end well for us.
If Kason would even consider it. Which I doubted.
“Shall we knock?” he suggested.
I blinked at him. “Like, just walk up to the front door and?—”
“Knock, yes. Like civilized creatures.”
“B-but—” I sputtered.
It couldn’t be as simple as that, could it? I’d taken that approach all too often lately, when we first went after Farraleigh, and the day before. I knew Allemud—at least enough to know he wouldn’t attack me on sight. But Muirin…
Before I could voice more than that minor protest, Kason had pushed open the gate in the pretty fence and walked up the path to the front door.
I scrambled after him, muttering under my breath.
In my mind, Rhianough’s laugh tinkled annoyingly.
I was about to whisper something scathing under my breath at her when Kason stopped abruptly.
“The door’s open,” he murmured.
It could be nothing, but neither my instincts nor Kason’s, apparently, thought that. I drew my dagger with my right hand and readied a measure of pure kinetic energy in my left. Kason drew a short blade as well, though longer and finer than my own, and magic flared into being along the metal.
“Stay here,” he shot quietly over his shoulder.
I rolled my eyes, and he sighed, giving in to the inevitable. He was concerned about my bruised body, but like hell I was going to let him walk into this unknown situation alone. What kind of a husband would I be if I did?
We continued forward, and he cautiously pushed the door open.
It didn’t make a sound. Thank the gods for well-maintained homes.
Inside was a grand foyer—well, grand to me, perhaps not if one was used to the palace.
Its ivory-and-tan floor tiles were laid in a diamond pattern, stretching to the back of the house where, presumably, the kitchen lay.
To the right was a parlor with formal seating and dainty tables.
To the left was an office behind glass-paned doors, dressed in dark woods and hefty leather chairs.
There were no signs of a struggle and nothing appeared out of place.
The entire space smelled clean, with the scent of protective oil for the wood rising above everything.
Whoever lived here cared for their abode.
I was about to suggest no one was present when I caught the barest sound of a shuffle near the back of the house.
I tapped Kason’s shoulder and gestured in the direction of the sound.
I wasn’t sure if he’d heard it too, or if he simply trusted me that much, but he nodded and crept in that direction.
Before we’d gone two steps, someone darted into the corridor in front of us and directed a ball of magic in our direction.
Kason raised his blade and deflected the ball back the way it’d come, catching the caster in the shoulder.
They let out a cry and fell to the ground—and then another fighter appeared, this one without magic at his fingertips.
Kason raced forward to engage him, and I took the opportunity to dart around the two of them into the large kitchen.
I had only a second to get the lay of the room.
Like the rest of the house, it appeared well cared for: neat, tidy, and eminently functional.
At a rough table at the far end, next to the nook that housed the cookstove, a woman with vibrant red hair sat tied to a chair.
She had a swollen black eye and one of the sleeves of her well-to-do blouse had been burned away, leaving behind blistered skin.
A larger woman with light-brown skin, wearing middle-class clothes, lay motionless on the floor.
I couldn’t tell if she was breathing. There were more bodies nearby, and from the blood surrounding them, I surmised they were definitely not breathing.
Between the captive woman and me were three additional attackers. I smiled, making sure to bare my pointed teeth, and tossed the magic I’d prepared at the closest target.
A lot of witches I knew went for fire as their main offensive element, just like Farraleigh had.
Sometimes fire was called for—it was showy, impressive, and fear-inducing.
But I preferred the complexity of kinetic magic.
Not only did it hit like a punch from a strong man—if you spelled it right—but it could explode with enough force to send a target flying.
And I did, in fact, spell it right. The target flew backward with a scream that cut off abruptly as he slammed into the stone fireplace on the other side of the table, then crumpled to the floor, unmoving.
His two companions, a man and a woman, didn’t hesitate for so much as a second.
Their colleague’s body had barely hit the ground before they were charging me.
I let out a startled yelp and threw another ball of kinetic energy at them—but since I was rushed, this one wasn’t as well spelled or thrown.
It missed. I gritted my teeth, knowing this fight was going to hurt .
Suddenly, the female would-be attacker reached for her neck, where a familiar blade had embedded itself.
She sank to her knees and toppled sideways.
Kason stepped forward, in front of me, and intercepted the male attacker.
He grabbed my assailant around the head and, with a quick, decisive movement, broke his neck.
“Thanks,” I murmured, swiping my forearm over my sweaty forehead. It dislodged my hood, and the woman at the table, who had watched the entire fight with her one good eye, grunted.
“Mokido Azenas,” she muttered darkly, then laughed without any humor. “I should have known you’d show up.”
“Muirin the Red, I assume?” Kason said as he moved closer and took in her wounds. “You need a healer.”
She swallowed, shaking her head. “No. Vacelle needs one more than me.” She nodded her head at the motionless woman near her feet. “Is she…?”
While Kason released Muirin from her bonds, I knelt by Vacelle. She had long, wavy dark-brown hair covering much of her face. I pushed it out of the way and held my hand in front of her nose and mouth. After a second, I nodded. “She lives.”