Chapter 35
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Acold chill caressed the back of Selene’s neck as they searched the rooftop for the man behind the Blade’s murder. He’d laughed at what he’d done, and now the sound drifted away.
“He’s running,” Petrina said, her feet already moving to the other end of the alley.
Oskar nudged Selene after her. “Stay with Petrina. We’ll take care of the rest of them.”
She’d already forgotten about the two following on the ground. If they were anywhere near as good as the one from the rooftop—
There were only two. Oskar had four Blades. Five men could handle them easily.
Oskar strode out to the center of the cobbled street and filled both hands with swords.
Peeling from the shadows, the Blades joined him, their strong bodies wrapped in leather and cloaks, black hoods drawn over their heads.
The five assassins waited with patient breath, feet spread, weapons held at the ready.
“Come on,” Petrina hissed, dragging Selene by the wrist.
On the next street over, Petrina pulled Selene inside a tavern and took a pair of gray cloaks from a line of pegs. They outfitted themselves on the way to the bar, where Petrina ordered two pints.
“We don’t have time for a drink,” Selene said, nearly gagging on the body odor wafting from her stolen cloak.
Petrina raised her hood. “Quiet.”
Their pints arrived, and Petrina raised hers for a toast. Selene mirrored her, and they clinked glasses, then drank.
“Out the back,” Petrina said, taking her ale with her.
They moved deftly through the crowd—Selene had never known so many people to drink this early—then thrust into a kitchen, startling a pair of large men.
“What—?” one began.
Petrina shoved her ale at him. “For you.”
Selene handed hers to the second man, who was too shocked to deny it. Then, they were through the rear door and in a shadowed alley with hoods raised.
“Do you think he followed us?” Selene asked.
“I don’t know. He got the drop on a Blade, so he’s good. We need to be better.”
A pebble hit the ground right in front of them. A heartbeat later, a second landed and bounced as if thrown.
Selene flashed her gaze up in time to see the swish of a cloak.
“That answers that,” Petrina said, pulling Selene into the busy street.
“We could go after him.” Selene didn’t know if she could run up the wall without enough space, but Petrina could. And there were plenty of crates to climb. “We can take him together.”
Petrina met Selene’s gaze. “You’re not ready for someone like him.”
“But, you are.” Selene took her hands. “Go. I’ll be fine—”
“I’m not leaving you. Come on. We need to lose him, and then we decide our next steps.”
The only step after that was to find and help Augustus.
Selene and Petrina wound blindly through the city, weaving in and out of random businesses, exchanging clothes as they went.
Inside a scorching hot building with a forge and an anvil on the sign, they listened to the smithy and a customer gossip over a swordfight between a bunch of foreigners only a mile away.
“Think it’s related to the big show over in The Crossroads?” the smithy asked.
“D’know,” the man said with a thick-shouldered shrug. “Don’t think so. I’m heading over as soon as we’re done here. You should close up for an hour. Don’t want to miss Phya take down the Triarius boy a few pegs, do ya?”
Petrina pulled Selene outside after that. “Don’t react. Just walk.”
They were now wrapped in bright, thin shawls that the women around here used to cover their heads and shoulders.
“I thought Thorne was setting a trap,” Selene whispered, heart thudding against her sternum like a drum. “Isn’t Phya just a money man? What would he do to Augustus?”
“We can’t worry about that.” Petrina scanned the rooftops. “We have to survive first.”
“Is he still there?” As far as Selene could tell, they hadn’t been followed.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Listen to the quiet. It’ll tell you what the noise is trying to hide.”
Small problem…Selene had no idea how to do that.
Over the next few minutes, they traded their shawls for men’s shirts they found dangling on a clothesline and brand-new tricorn hats from a stall outside a millinery. Less than a minute later, a man whistled a tune from the rooftop above, chasing the women onto a different path.
Nothing they did was helping. They would never lose him, and between Selene’s frustration and growing exhaustion, she was prepared to force the man out of hiding. She didn’t care if she wasn’t ready for this fight. This game had to end.
They slowed through alleys cluttered with crates and barrels and breezed through streets emptying of bodies—everyone was heading to The Crossroads.
The women paused to catch a breath outside a building braced by poles angled from the ground to the roof—many of the buildings in this area looked halfway to collapse under one strong gust of wind. Nearly all of them had these supports.
Movement on the cobbled stone drew Selene’s attention. A man’s broad-shouldered silhouette painted the road from the rooftop behind them. The shadow stood still, then turned with the swish of a cloak and vanished.
Selene darted into the street and scanned the area he’d just been standing in. Nothing but low, wispy clouds and sunlight came into view.
Petrina frowned. “He’s toying with us.”
“We need help, and the Blades are still occupied.”
That particular fight was still being whispered about everywhere they stopped, though she was now beginning to question whether or not there were two “foreigner” fights. The Rangers, maybe? One was located nearby—the Blades—but another was miles away in a whole other district of town.
“Let’s head for the docks,” Petrina said. Sweat streamed down her temples, and heat flushed her cheeks. “I hate to bring anyone aboard the ship into this, but you’re right. We need help.”
Selene had never known this woman to admit defeat so willingly. It must have taken a lot for her to agree to accept that they were up against someone they couldn’t face on their own.
Petrina started to go, but Selene held her wrist. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this.”
The Eye smirked. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what? You were free. You didn’t have to follow me onto Thorne’s ship—”
“I already explained this. One way or another, if it’s in life or her afterlife, Alexandra is going to know who kept you breathing. That fucking bitch will know it was me.” Petrina smiled. “Besides. It helps me sleep at night.”
Without another word, they slipped into a narrow alley. The walls seemed to tighten as they strode through, and the crunching sound of footsteps on shingles followed their every move.
Petrina glanced up every so often as she increased her pace. Ahead, a weather-beaten wall bisected the alley. Crates were clustered up against it like a haphazard staircase.
“We’re climbing over,” Petrina whispered. “We have to go fast.”
The top of those crates brought them very close to the roof and their stalker, whose steps had once again gone utterly silent.
Selene’s heartbeat thrummed in her ears, and it became increasingly difficult to swallow. “I’ll cover you.”
Petrina nodded, then took off into a sprint.
Selene remained close on her heels, emptying her mind of all thoughts as she mirrored Petrina’s leaping steps up the collage of crates. The angled rooftop with turquoise shingles came into view—
Empty.
He wasn’t there.
Petrina leapt atop the final crate, and with one hand on the makeshift wall, she brought her legs and hip over the top and vanished.
Selene swept a final look over the rooftop as she, too, made the leap, the wood splintering under her grip.
Selene hit the ground just in time to see Petrina rise from a crouch—
Straight into the blade arcing toward her throat.
The man was already mid-swing, his whole torso behind it. He smiled as the steel carved through her neck.
Petrina didn’t fall right away. She turned toward Selene—
Her knees buckled. Her hand reached toward Selene…then dropped.
Lifeless.
Petrina’s head parted from her crumpling body.
“Strip him,” Phya ordered.
The last thing Augustus saw before the mercenaries turned on him was Phya turning his back on the scene. He couldn’t even watch his own punishment play out?
Cassia’s voice echoed through his mind as the mercenaries descended. “Humiliation isn’t the end of you, Augustus. It’s a moment—a weapon men wield to make you forget who you are. Don’t let them.”
“Watch, you coward!” Augustus shouted through the throng. Knives sliced away his clothes, taking no care for his skin in the process. He ignored the stinging pain. “Look me in the fucking eye, Phya.”
Taran Phya paused, then raised his chin and turned. A slight quiver took him as he lengthened his spine and stared down his nose at Augustus. “I’m looking.”
The mercenaries stepped away, except for the two holding his arms. The flow of blood tickled his chest, back, and various spots along his hips and arms. They’d sliced him all over, though none deep enough to kill him.
The Crossroads was alive with chatter as Augustus stood in the open, naked inside Phya’s web. Sharp whispers cut like knives through the crowd.
“Finally getting what he deserves.”
“Phya’s lucky Cassia’s dead.”
“You think they’ll kill ‘im?”
Augustus would laugh at the turn of events if he weren’t so godsdamned pissed. He’d known mercenaries couldn’t be trusted. Hadn’t he been concerned already that they’d walk if the war proved too much? They weren’t loyal to anyone but themselves.
As if summoned by Augustus’s thoughts, Darian came around to stand in front of him. “Your offer was good. His was better.”
Augustus summoned his most wrathful smile. “Fuck you. You’re a dead man.”
A small smile touched the Bladesworn’s lips. “There’s only one man in this city who could even come close to killing me.” His gaze shifted to the mismatched buildings, roughly in the direction they’d last watched Selene disappear. “But Oskar Dahlin’s got his own problems right about now.”
Augustus was a fucking fool.