Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
CHAY
“Only the guilty shudder at the Worg’s howl.” ~ Southern saying
T he hunched figure straightened as soon as I’d closed the door behind him, throwing back the threadbare scarf and pulling the lightly faded woolen hat from his head. A fine layer of gray hairs the same length as Luca’s own went with it. I’d seen his disguises before. They were subtle and effective. Not a skill I anticipated a new King would need, but certainly helpful when it came to killing the old one. Wordlessly, I accepted the walking stick he passed over.
I hadn’t seen Audrey today in the stands. Her chairs had been decorated with the colors of a different house. No one had batted an eyelash at her sudden disappearance. My gut had been tight all day at the aura of forced calm emanating from the staff. But I held onto the questions I had no right to voice.
“I was worried you hadn’t received my message,” Kadan said, waving him toward a chair before the fire.
“My rooms are being guarded,” Luca said shortly. “It took me time to get past them.”
Kadan’s expression was already as grim as I’d seen it, but I saw his eyes flicker toward the door I stood in front of, and I took pleasure from the way he saw me and relaxed back, a little of the tension in his shoulders unraveling.
I’d worked hard for that trust. He’d worked hard to earn it. And the pride I felt for both of us grabbed me by the throat, filling my chest with a warmth so sweet it hurt.
“I wasn’t followed,” Luca said confidently, pouring himself a cup of spiced juice. “What news?”
“They took one of the assassins alive.”
Luca froze.
“The Duke has paid for a Magework Healer’s services throughout the entire day, and another for tonight,” Kadan went on.
It wasn’t new information to me. I’d been with Kadan when the update had been murmured in his ear, in the aftermath of the joust that had been an abysmal showing, bar our own riders. Even I would’ve placed, a fact that had been declared a number of times by my amused friends, all crowing their glee.
As much as I’d tried to stop myself, I hadn’t been able to hold my fears at bay. I was, after all, her champion. Surely, I had a right to know what state the lady of the keep was in? But I’d waited, and reminded myself she was the Butcher’s daughter, first and foremost.
Then the waterboy, who supplemented his wage by charging for interesting tidbits he learned whilst doing his rounds, had visited us.
“I wondered,” Luca said, the words harsh. “I expected him to either publicly eviscerate us, or to have my throat cut in my sleep and for my death to remain an unsolved mystery that didn’t even make the footnotes of a history book.”
That was a highly specific option. I glanced over at Kadan to find a grin spreading across his face. “Look at us, finding a third option like the bred-in-the-bone troublemakers we are.”
Luca lifted his cup in toast, rubbing a hand over his jaw and leaning back against the stone hearth. “There were seven of them, ’Dan. Seven Worgs. He took out four himself. And no one heard a thing. ”
People who were close enough to the Butcher would know when to keep their mouths shut. I’d expected to hear bells tolling, people running in the halls, and general distress. If the assassins had managed to take out more than just the King’s advisor, mayhap there would’ve been chaos. Instead, life had continued as usual.
There was something eerie about that level of violence not creating even a ripple in the day-to-day running of the keep, and it was sickeningly familiar. I should’ve known we wouldn’t hear any news. And I didn’t love that Luca had anticipated this reaction, at least somewhat, but I was caught off guard. I knew better.
“Do you know which of them remains alive?” Luca asked, his voice a monotone.
“The one who went after your bride,” Kadan drawled.
I felt like the entire keep had come down on me.
I’d suspected the Duke, angered by the assassination attempt, might have harmed Audrey.
But to have assassins go after her? Why hadn’t anyone told me?
Because she’s nothing to you, and you’re nothing to her. I sucked in a deep breath and ignored the quick look Kadan sent me as I held the air safely behind my ribs until my mind started to work again.
Matri’sion weren’t known for their mercy, but the Duke even less so. If his daughter had been killed, would the assassin still breathe? Surely, someone would have told me if she was gone. After all, Luca’s entire plan hinged on her. They’d been healing one person. Surely, that one person was Audrey.
I should’ve known this was where we’d end up; another failed attempt on the Duke’s life and the child-King’s crown, suffocated by the threatening silence. I was glad I’d had so much space that I’d forgotten the steps to this dance. And I refused to learn them again.
“They were targeting Victor and Von Rhea,” Luca objected. “That was the agreement.”
“Well, mayhap they understood the terms differently,” Kadan drawled. “I have it on excellent authority that an assassin left Audrey’s rooms in the company of one of the Butcher’s Blackguard and in poor condition, and there’s been a change in the hierarchy of his people.”
I tightened my jaw to hold back the demand for information.
“He suspects them?” Luca asked, like a hound distracted by a butterfly while the quarry grazed nearby.
He didn’t suspect his men, though. Not really. But he’d be looking to lay blame. I looked at the plain walking stick Luca had found. It had authentic dings in it where it’d fallen, the base of it worn smooth and compacted from long use. I hoped whoever he’d got it from could afford an upgrade for what Luca had paid. If he’d stolen it, I’d be disgusted.
A knock on the door came, and Luca fell silent, removing himself from sight immediately. I cracked it open, ignoring the stab of pain in my chest the movement earned. Whilst I had the excuses that came with the late hour at the ready, I didn’t need them. Darrius stood there, his linen shirt rolled up to mid-forearm, his sandy hair only slightly neater than his son’s unruly mop. I shifted to let him in.
“How’re you, Chay?” he asked, stepping in. “I’ve barely had a chance to see you these last few days. There was a lovely horse blanket that would look fabulous on Bliksem in the market today, but I was sidetracked before I could pick it up. I sent Toby for it, but he got one with too much purple.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” I assured him. “But I have blankets.”
He snorted, but didn’t engage in the argument, shutting the door firmly behind him. I knew damned well it’d be among my gear next time I went to saddle Bliksem. “If Luca isn’t here, we need to consider how the hells to get him here,” Darrius said to his son, pouring himself a tall juice. “Gates don’t open until dawn, and trying to force our way would be too obvious, so we’ve a few hours to hide him and figure out a plan.”
Luca reappeared from Kadan’s room. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking between the two of them.
Darrius, without any sign of surprise, said, “Victor has one of your assassins.”
“They aren’t mine, per se,” Luca said. “’Dan was just telling me. My chambers are being guarded, and I was followed today, but it’s all unobtrusive. It might even be security.”
Kadan snorted, his head falling back. “The assassin knows you, Luca,” he said.
“I wore a disguise,” he objected.
“You know who the Worgs are,” Darrius said, serious where Kadan was irreverent. “That’s why you chose them. I’d bet your life that they know exactly who you are.”
This made Luca pause.
I realized that as he hadn’t asked if Audrey was hurt either of the times the surviving assassin had been mentioned, and hadn’t commented on her absence, he probably had reason. I wasn’t accustomed to putting my trust in Luca, but I needed to practice.
“Who did they catch?” he asked, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. They sent only their best. Even if they do know who I am—and that’s probably likely, you’re right—they’d only hurt their own people if I were exposed.”
“They took Ylva Wuurgard.” Darrius said the name with a heaviness that made me check Kadan’s expression, and I saw his eyes flutter briefly closed, his brow knitted. He wasn’t a pious man; when his lips formed words, they were an expletive.
The Butcher had gotten lucky, and we had not, then.
“She won’t talk,” Luca said shortly. “That woman’s made of steel. They don’t survive the South if they aren’t.”
For just a moment, I was a child in a body as big as most adults, behind a full tavern, my head ringing from a blow to my skull and mud between my fingers. “ How’s he still up? ” The disembodied voice came from somewhere behind me. “ How’s he still up? ” But deep in my bones, I had the sure knowledge that if I went down and they took the coin I had, then I’d never get out of that mud. And the desperation that flooded my veins was molten steel.
“Victor breaks everyone,” Darrius said softly while I kept my breathing measured, waiting for the rush of feelings to cool. “ Everyone, Luca. There is no steel that cannot be shattered, and the tougher the alloy, the more brittle the product.”
I flexed my hands to feel the lack of mud between my fingers. I’d never had this lecture from Darrius, not about myself. I’d never needed it. I’d seen the proof of once-sharp, twice-broken people everywhere I’d looked in life.
“Steel is an analogy,” Luca told him dismissively. “She isn’t too brittle, and even if she wasn’t tough, how would it serve her now? The point isn’t your excellent and, I’m sure, very wise lesson about strength, Darrius. What I wanted to communicate was that the Wuurgard heir won’t talk. It would cost her too much.”
Heir. He’d said heir. He’d sent a Southern heir to their long, painful death at the Butcher’s hands. And, at the same time I was struggling with that thought, the man’s disregard for softness was worming its way into my mind.
Neither realization felt any better than that mud between my fingers.
“I doubt much will serve her now,” Darrius said, grief in his voice. “I’m seeing if I can get someone in to give her mercy, but I expect he’ll be prepared for that. She will talk, Luca. There is nothing Victor will not do in pursuit of his goals, and if that means re-starting her heart a dozen times, he already has a mage prepared to do that.”
The depths of that level of control made my belly knot, and I could feel my blood drum faster. I forced myself to hold my hands relaxed and didn’t allow my breath to hasten.
At least death had always been an escape option for me. The Butcher didn’t even allow that. Not until it was on his terms.
I thought, again, of the woman who’d taken me to the ground, the clarity of her whiskey gaze, the way she’d impatiently shaken the ribbon from her hair under the guise of naming me her champion, all so she could pass on a warning I should never have needed. My mouth was a desert.
She was safe. That’s why they weren’t discussing her. The knowledge settled in my belly and brought me a measure of peace.
Around me, discussion had turned to escape. Kadan used the information we’d gathered on our way into the city to outline what we’d need to force our way free, but we all knew it wasn’t really an option. Luca’s family holdings were on this side of the Aza Ranges. If the South knew their heir was being tortured, it would be a race to see who’d reach Luca first—forces from La’Angi, or assassins from the South.
While we shared the common goal of hating the King, the harmful monopolies that hamstrung hard-working people, and the laws that kept us all silent and subservient, our small rebellion had little in common with the South, and we all knew it. They were the poor cousin none of us really wanted to deal with, so far in debt you’d invite them over to break bread and feel obligated to send them home with half your larder. I’d been that cousin. I’d bit the hand that fed me, not understanding it wouldn’t also punish, thinking only of short-term survival. I got why Luca had entered into an agreement with the South, and I also understood why no one was entirely comfortable with having them at the table. One cousin you could help. A region of them, though, that had once been a nation?
“I’ll send word to the Worgs,” Luca said heavily. “They might be able to help the woman. At least they’ll appreciate hearing it from us.”
The woman. I wondered if she’d been the only assassin who hadn’t been a man, and why they’d sent her after Audrey. I wondered how she’d lived and how the Matri’sion had faired. And while they discussed how they could reduce the harm to the relationship between our group and the Southern rebels, I felt the walls closing in on me.
Someone was going to need to get Luca out of this place alive. Kadan was going to volunteer, of course, but he was highly visible. The less movement around his quarters, the better. Callum was a better bowman than I and arguably a better horseman, too. But I was here, and in close quarters, I’d do Luca more good than Callum.
Darrius was patiently listening to Luca insist the Southern heir had more to lose if she spoke than if she didn’t, but Kadan met my eyes over Luca’s head. At my silent summons, he quietly stood and slipped around the outside of their conversation without disturbing them, his stockinged feet padding quietly on the stone.
“I’ll get Callum to accompany us,” I murmured. “Want me to see Luca home?”
Kadan shook his head. “He’s got his own men,” he murmured. “Ready their horses, and yours, and Cals, for a dawn rush. Just get them out, unless you’re spotted. You’re in the melee, friend. Use it as an excuse to be in the city if you need. I can always meet you at the tourney ground.”
I didn’t like the idea of being so far away from Kadan, but if things got hairy, it was a better alternative than outright fleeing.
“There’s a limit to how long you can hold onto yourself, son,” Darrius was saying. “Victor, he’s made a career knowing exactly where that limit is.”
My belly twisted. I put my hand on the door. “I’ll let Cal know,” I told Kadan, and he nodded his agreement. Briefly, his hand rested on my shoulder. His eyes didn’t smile as he met my gaze. But he didn’t stop me or ask how I was faring.
He knew I wasn’t going down into that mud.