8. Diar
Diar
Isat on the cold floor, staring through the iron bars.
Kentoro had a quaint little prison: a handful of cells beneath the governor's estate. The hushed atmosphere and empty halls might have been pleasant company had I not been imprisoned with the rogue.
He occupied the cell beside me, leaning against the bars to watch shadows moving at the end of the hall. His fingers danced on his wrist, as though counting something.
Leaning forward, I studied the man. He looked to be about my age, not yet twenty. His curls were well-maintained, falling around a sharp-featured face: high cheekbones and a defined jaw flecked by freckles.
The ratty cloak shrouding him in shadow hung over a finely tailored forest-green jacket. The collar was torn and bent.
His emerald eyes flicked to me. "So, where'd you learn to fight?"
Pulling my knees up, I glowered at him. His voice was like a song, easy, light, and unduly charming.
"Most Muirashi women seem pretty meek. I thought you'd cower or run. I didn't expect him to actually hit you."
"Do Aenir men regularly hide behind their women?"
"No," he said. "My talents don't lie in straight-up fights, and you looked rather capable, besides."
I wrapped my arms around my knees. "How could you tell I was a woman?"
Narrowing his eyes, he looked me up and down. "Oh. Were you pretending not to be?"
"Idiot. Do you see many women in the Shatterblades?"
"Aenir lets women join the army." He glanced away. "Well, we used to." Footsteps and murmurs sounded in the distance. He met my eye. "What are you doing, anyway?"
"I'm looking for someone," I answered shortly.
"Who's the lucky fellow?" He waggled an eyebrow.
"He's not lucky," I spat. "Who was your friend?"
He looked away again. "We'd been going at it for a while before you arrived. He was perfectly pleasant before the third drink."
"I'm sure you weren't."
"Not really, no." He grinned. "What's your name?"
"Diar."
Casting one final glance down the hall, he walked to the bars separating us. "Do you have a husband to come get you?"
"No," I said. "A father, but that'll take a while."
"Good." He dug into his sleeve and pulled out a metal pin. "Help me break out, then."
Standing, I walked to my cell door and peered down the dim hall. This wasn't Kentoro's main dungeon. They probably used these cells for petty criminals who'd be set free.
I'd only heard one pair of boots rap on these floors.
Wasting away down here until Father came to collect me wasn't an option. I had not risked escaping only to be caught and dragged back.
"Keep an eye out," the rogue whispered, fitting the pick into his lock.
"Give me your name first," I whispered.
"Ferris."
"Are you one of the Aenir lords?"
"The hair didn't give it away?" He pointed to his steel curls.
"No, I mean—" Huffing, I changed topics. "Where did they put my sword?"
"I have an idea." He clicked open his cell and carefully pushed it ajar, flinching with every creak.
He moved in front of my cell and set about unlocking it. My eyes drifted to his bare wrists, remembering the strange vision we'd been plunged into upon touching.
Would it happen again if I reached out to him?
His emerald eyes landed on my hands as he worked. Shaking his head, he pulled the lockpick out and dragged my door open.
"Your carriage is here, my lady," he said, dipping his head.
The rumor that all Aenir men were loud and insincere was true. Rolling my shoulders, I followed him outside.
"Distract the guard," I whispered. "I'll knock him out."
Ferris looked me up and down, brows shooting up. "Are you sure you're from Muirashi?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Saints, woman. Do you live in a cave?"
"No, why?
Ferris blinked at me, then chuckled. "Alright. I have to see this." Tilting his head, he motioned me to follow.
Flexing my wrists, I tiptoed down the hall, watching the shadow covering the cell block's exit. Ferris pressed himself against the wall, and I moved to the doorway's other side.
Akemi had trained me to fight with blades and bow. I could do this.
Grabbing a loose stone from the jagged floor, Ferris tossed it through the archway. The sound of a dozing man abruptly rousing followed its gentle plinks across the floor.
The shadow grew into a man as he walked into the cell block, rubbing his eyes. Lunging at him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a chokehold, cutting off his airway and the yell he tried to voice.
The poor guard floundered for a bit before falling limp in my grasp. I lowered him to the ground and stepped back to see Ferris grinning at me.
"Who are you, really?"
"A woman who's very upset without her sword," I grumbled, motioning for him to lead.
Slipping into the hall, Ferris darted away. There was nothing down here save the seat the guard had been sleeping on, the other cell block, and a pair of heavy doors that led outside. Ferris paused beside them, listening for movement on the other side.
I waited with him, flexing my wrist. There couldn't be more than one or two more guards in the front. Armed with the element of surprise, we could probably disarm them without a fight.
There was silence for a moment, then a door swinging open and a shout.
"Who . . . ? Stop!" A man yelled.
I heard pounding footfalls and the ring of steel being drawn.
Was someone attacking the guard outside? We both shrank from the door, anticipating trouble.
Whatever was happening outside, it didn't follow us in here. A sword cut through flesh—I knew that sound well. Death gurgles followed, and the thud of a body hitting the floor.
I reached for the door, but Ferris caught my elbow and pulled me back. A loud creak sounded, and retreating footsteps echoed on the stone floors. Then, stillness.
Pulling from his grip, I flew through the door. My boot sloshed into a pool of blood. A guard lay face down on the floor, fresh scarlet pouring from the wound on his back. Falling to his side, I felt for a pulse, but he'd already passed.
"Well, shit," Ferris breathed.
I studied the guard. He'd died quickly—stabbed straight through his heart. His tabard had been pushed aside, and his keyring was missing from his belt.
"They took his keys," I noted.
"Why? They didn't break into the cells."
Standing, I glanced around and noticed a desk tucked in the corner—and the sword lying across it. Grabbing it, I pulled the blade loose from its sheath to ensure it was mine.
Thank goodness. I never would have forgiven myself had I lost Akemi's blade.
Faint noises carried from upstairs—the rapping of feet against the floor above us.
"We need to get out of here," Ferris said, making for the steps. "Before they pin this murder on us."
"What's going on upstairs?" I asked.
"Winter's Tide. Tonight's the second ball."
My eyes snapped to the ceiling. My family's manor had a hatch leading into the basement dungeons—a relic from the days when the continent hadn't been united under the Empire.
Only our family knew it was there. And while the governor's manors were well guarded, the prisons beneath them rarely were.
There. I could see the edges of the hatch drawing a faint square in the smooth stone ceiling.
Sneaking into a party populated with nobles could only mean one thing.
"Whoever they are, they're here to kill someone," I murmured, attaching my sword back to my belt.
Ferris froze, eyes darting around. "Then . . . then we should go after them."
Unlocking the hatch's keyhole jarred it loose from the ceiling, allowing it to be pulled open or closed. If it was still flush with the ceiling, the assailant had locked it behind them.
"Can't. They locked it behind them." Whirling around, I found the dungeon's exit: a pair of stairs leading to a heavy door. Flying up them, I pushed outside.
Frozen air struck my face as we emerged into the pitch-black. A rough stone road led from the dungeons into the city, pure shadow save for the occasional flickering torch.
Light flared to my south. Sparks pierced the night, and smoke spiraled into the firmament. A second fire erupted to my east, and then my west.
Columns of flame disturbed the peaceful slumber of Kentoro, drawing eyes away from the central part of town, away from the governor's manor.
And when it too went up in smoke, it would be too late.
The assassins would have already claimed their target.
Five years ago, Tsuyan's skies had turned red as fires broke out across the city. Fires that drew our men away from the Emperor. From the assassins targeting him.
It was happening again. My throat tightened, and smoke filled my lungs, though we were nowhere near the fires.
A pounding headache revived memories of that terrible day. Sweat pooled on my trembling hands, and I fought to remain in the present.
Ferris emerged beside me. He pulled his hood up, eyes darting between the columns of flame, before landing on me.
"Hey." He stepped in front of me and took my wrist, avoiding touching my skin. "What's wrong?"
I'd never spoken of these episodes to anyone, and I didn't intend to tell this rogue.
A single thought dispelled the nightmare trying to bind my limbs.
If this attack was orchestrated by the same people who'd killed the Emperor . . .
The Solheart assassin might be here.
"Ferris," I choked. "If someone was going to be assassinated, who would it be?"
"The king," he said. "Aenir's king."
"Where is he?"
"Winter's Tide. The Governor's manor."
An impressive building rose behind us, a simple but elegant manor of dark wood. Our cell had been buried beneath it.
And I'd missed the Solhearts by a breath when they'd murdered the guard and fled up the secret hatch.
So they could arrive unseen to slip a blade through the king's heart.
Gripping my sword hilt, I raced toward the manor—and the man who'd gone unpunished for five long years.