Chapter 11
Ksenia reluctantly followed the little girl’s feather-light footsteps down the empty hallway, pressing against the walls till they reached a turn. Over her shoulder, Ksenia could see torchlight bobbing and shadows lengthening where they had both been in front of the door.
The little girl swept an arm to the side, and Ksenia sucked in a breath as she flattened to the stone.
They faced forward as a retinue of five guards came around the bend and marched down the hall.
Ksenia would’ve been pinched on both sides had she waited longer.
She thanked the gods for her new friend.
When the footsteps receded, the girl tugged on Ksenia’s sleeve. A set of stairs ascended before them.
When they reached the upper landing, the girl playfully jumped up and extended her hand to Ksenia.
“The armory is on your right! Now, what’s my prize?”
“Prize?”
“For helping you win the game, of course!” Her grubby fingers opened and closed expectantly.
Ksenia shook her head with a smile before rummaging in her rucksack.
A pen? No. A worn map? No. Stale bread? No—
Carefully, she unearthed a muffin, sugar crusted thick on top and sticking to the wax paper. “All right, my friend, here you are.”
The girl eagerly took her winnings, placing the parcel into her apron pocket. “My name is Petra.”
Ksenia held her hand against her chest. “I’m Senka. Thank you for helping me. Let’s keep this our little secret, okay?”
Petra nodded eagerly. “Can we play again?”
Ksenia opened her mouth to say no. “We’ll see.”
Petra beamed like she had said yes, giving a twirl before she disappeared back down the stairs.
Ksenia eased onto the landing, looking in both directions before she headed for the armory. Unlike the door she had encountered before, the armory entrance was open and darkened.
Ksenia could practically hear Varka shouting that it was a trap and hesitated at the threshold, waiting for something to jump at her.
It was already deep into the night, and rain pelted the floor-to-ceiling lancet windows within the armory. Streaks of pure silver occasionally illuminated the room, followed by the boom of thunder.
Not a soul appeared in sight, only weapons decorating every inch of the walls, inset into the black stone with pitons and other holds that secured whole suits of armor, gleaming blades, polearms adorned with tassels, polished bows, and a myriad of weapons Ksenia had no name for.
Her feet drew her closer of their own accord, fascinated by the array.
In the event of a siege, this room was useless. It wasn’t an armory. Instead, it was a glorified museum of pristine weapons that would never feel the heat of battle.
The lightning cracked again, flashing on the polished blades, and not a single mote of dust drifted in the air.
The grandest prize of all stood at the center of the room, on a raised dais. A bluish silver-tinged sword, inlaid with gold runes down its shaft, was suspended beneath a domed glass cloche.
Her heels clicked softly across the floor to get a closer look and she stifled a sigh of awe.
The sword boasted an emerald set in the pommel and was set aglow by the moonlight.
Her awe soured into frustration. Getting into Hearth and the armory was a feat enough for Ksenia, but to walk away with a relic that everyone would notice had gone missing was beyond what she had prepared for.
A shiver ran down her spine, the delicate strands of hair prickling at her neck as if attuned to an unseen current.
The air thrummed with a faint, insistent noise. Growing louder, sharper, transforming into a keening cry that snapped into perfect focus: the presence of a soulbound blade.
She had heard this one before, and a mix of fear and anger tremored through her body in response.
She turned her head, a cold sweat coating her palms.
Another burst from the storm turned the room from night to day, and there, leaning against the interior doors, was an imposing figure.
Ksenia saw his longsword first. It was slim but tapered, polished silver with roses etched along the fuller. A straight and narrow crossguard bisected it in a clean, unbroken line.
To the untrained eye, this sword looked simple. But Ksenia knew far better. This was an instrument that required precision, patience, and control, reserved for a swordmaster.
Ksenia saw his eyes second—a familiar pair that locked onto hers with a clarity that left nowhere to hide, no pretense. A heady cocktail of fear mixed with disgust gripped her heart in the bastard prince’s presence.
“You again.” Bohdan’s voice cut her like silk-covered steel. “Varka’s charge.”
He stepped toward her, a cold satisfaction in his green eyes. Like he’d hoped she would do exactly this.
“Breaking into the royal armory.” He tsked. “After I explicitly told you what would happen if you stepped out of line again.” His hand rested on his sword hilt.
Ksenia tightened her fingers around Caromir’s.
“And this”—Bohdan gestured around the room bursting with weapons—“is very, very, far over the line.” His smile was predatory. “Don’t you agree?”
She was torn between attacking him with wild abandon and fleeing for her life, but her traitorous mouth chose for her.
“You’re a fucking monster, you know that?” Her whisper was harsh, her breath coming out in puffs.
Her words bounced off his perfect mask. “Then you ought to run.” He took a step forward, his polished leather boot clicking against the stone. Her sense of self-preservation slammed back into her body, and Ksenia took a step back, colliding against the dais and shaking the cloche.
She looked back at the sword. Damn her to hell if she was going to walk away empty-handed after everything she had achieved on her mission so far.
With both hands, she gave a reckless shove. The crystal cloche wavered then tipped, smashing to the floor like stars exploding in the night sky.
She grasped the emerald-encrusted sword with her sweaty palm. When she turned, he was upon her—the warning flash of his sword his only signal in her periphery. There was no sound of his blade even disturbing the air.
Instinct took over: with a controlled shove, Ksenia redirected the moment of his strike, the force of his blade carrying past hers—the shriek of metal scraping metal.
His calm expression faltered for a beat. The intensity of his gaze sharpened with a flash of disbelief across his angular features.
She had no time to rejoice in her lucky parry before he rained down another blow. His movements were precise, separating the air, the razor’s edge catching the fabric of her sleeve and slicing it open as she retreated in a fumbling mess.
He was mechanical. Toying with her. Her eyes darted wildly for any escape aside from the one he was blocking.
Bohdan’s blade arced toward her throat—
SNAP—CRASH!
A deafening clang split the air as something massive plummeted from the ceiling. Ksenia threw herself backward on instinct as an iron chandelier shattered onto the floor between them with earth-shaking force. Metal groaned and shrieked, scattering candles and weapons in every direction.
The chandelier’s iron arms had bent and twisted upon impact, creating a jagged barrier of wrought metal between her and Bohdan.
Ksenia blinked through the debris, ears ringing, and caught another flash of movement—a whisp of yellow hair, a child’s silhouette at the second-floor balcony.
There and gone in less than a second.
Ksenia seized the opportunity. She spun and ran for the stained-glass window, kicking it with the toe of her metal-tipped boot. The glass cracked and shattered in a cascade of ruby, sapphire, and emerald, slicing into her clothing, but adrenaline kept her moving.
Rain poured onto the floor, and she shoved herself into the narrow stone archway. She had underestimated the width of the walls, and she forced herself through the sting of sharp glass cutting her clothing and skin—better glass than that blade, though.
Bohdan leaped over the twisted heap of metal on the ground. His blade sang as it cut through the air and rain. Steel sought her retreating form as it whispered past her ribs—so close she could feel the coldness against her feverish skin.
Sheets of rain soaked her from head to toe as soon as she made it outside, and she sneaked a glance over her shoulder. Vicious green eyes stalked her from the other side, the broken window too narrow for him to fit through.
Her breath came in sharp bursts as she ran along the stone pathway lining the armory. Down below, foot soldiers and guards on horseback patrolled.
She skidded over the slick stone as she changed directions toward the west wall, where a solitary forest bordered the castle.
The mountain beyond funneled the wind and rain sideways at her. She shielded her eyes from the icy onslaught and spotted a heavy, waterlogged length of rope coiled in the corner.
The rough fibers scraped and bit at her leather gloves as she married her ice picks, winding them back and forth with the rope until it became a single grappling hook.
Around the corner, a sound of horns broke through the din of the rain—hounds barking, their claws a maddening scrape over the flagstone floors. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, fingers twitching around the hilt of the sword.
Run.
No amount of fighting would result in her survival.
She crudely strapped the sword to her back with her shawl, then lodged the hook deep into the mortared brick lip of the wall and let the rest of the rope tumble out into the darkness.
She prayed it was long enough for her to climb down to safety, but being out of sight was now her top priority.
She trembled as she hoisted herself over it, her toes scrabbling for purchase with the piton.
They dug into any nook and cranny available to her as she clung to the rope for dear life.
The hook groaned, bending with her weight, but held.
She freed one foot and alternated underhand, twining her wrist and forearm with the rope as a failsafe.
Torchlight loomed overhead—if they discovered her and cut the rope, no braking mechanism would stop her from falling.
Her muscles shook with exertion and her arms were shredded from her death grip as she descended ever so slowly down the two-storied wall. Men shouted overhead, and her eyes widened.
A heavy dagger sliced cleanly through the rope, severing her tether.
Ksenia tumbled to her death on the forest floor below.