CHAPTER 39 #4
The outer gates of the manor came into view.
The arrogance of these Inraens always baffled me, trusting nothing more than a wall and a few soldiers to keep their families safe.
As planned, our party split in two, scouting the perimeter.
There were four entrances, each guarded by only two soldiers.
Gerta directed us toward the western gate.
It took only minutes of waiting before these so-called guards abandoned their posts and propped open the fucking door.
They may as well have invited us in for tea.
“This ale’s gone straight through me tonight,” one soldier laughed. He shifted his tabard aside and pulled at his belt as he walked through the opening.
“And every other night!” the other called after him.
The poor fool headed straight for us. Sellan put him down before he even saw we were there. A perfect throw from Yaego’s dagger dropped the second one.
I gathered Serae’s ranng and told them, “This is as far as you go.” I’d set one ranng at the north gate, hers at this one, and the last three would be coming with me.
“Like hell it is,” Raif barked. “We have just as much right to be here.”
I silenced him with a glare. “This door must be under our control for a quick exit. This is your task.”
Lispen stepped forward, and Raif made room for her.
“We’ve got this, Wep,” she said. Then, to her ranng, “Surround the gate. They rallied around her, readying their weapons and fanning out. My instincts about her taking the lead had been spot on. Raif may have been the obvious choice, considering his parents, but he didn’t inspire the others the way she did.
I signaled for the rest to continue. Gerta crept along a few paces behind me.
Her determination was admirable, even if I hated myself for accepting this risk.
Under normal circumstances, I’d never have allowed it, but nothing about Serae elicited normal from me.
It should have terrified me that I’d bend every fucking rule I ever made for her.
But it didn’t.
We skirted a single patrol on the grounds surrounding the manor. I set one ranng to keep the path leading toward the kitchen secure. They took up positions behind posts and trees and tucked into shadows, blending in with the night.
This was where Gerta’s most crucial part came into play.
Using the servant’s key she had kept, she unlocked the door and entered.
If all was clear, she would come back and signal us.
If she ran into trouble, she would feign having returned to the family after some invented trauma and wait for us to extract her.
I watched the door and counted the minutes. The air held a chill that I wasn’t expecting this far south.
“I can’t see anything,” Praeth whispered in my ear.
“Nothing to see yet.”
Gerta better hurry. I was giving her two more minutes until I added her name to the list of people we’d be rescuing tonight.
One more minute…
Her figure appeared in the doorway. She was paler than she had been before entering, but she motioned me forward.
“There are four guards in the family hallway,” she whispered in my ear.
“To the bedrooms?” My brow furrowed. “Why?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it. They’re in front of Serae’s door and Lord Bale’s.”
“I thought you said he was dead?”
She nodded. “They got a missive from the king saying so.”
That didn’t sit right with me, but there was no time to change course. Four were too many to incapacitate quickly. We would need four silent deaths.
I instructed the next ranng to keep the kitchen entrance under control.
Following Gerta’s descriptions, I led the final ranng, my own, up the stairs and down the first hallway, so unlike the winding corridors of our keep.
Branye was at my back, followed by Praeth.
I glimpsed around the corner and saw them—four soldiers all in a line, exactly as she’d said.
The bedrooms they guarded were along the same wall, side by side.
Two of them dozed while the other two played a game of cards by the light of a single candle.
All four wore uniforms and weapons, but none had heavy armor.
Not one so much as glanced at their surroundings.
They weren’t concerned about people coming in.
Rage filled me, making the lives I would claim even easier. I stepped out into the hall on silent footfalls, keeping to the shadows. I made it to the first guard dozing in his seat before any of them noticed and plunged a dagger into his neck.
One down.
His companion leapt to his feet. A dagger flew from behind me and embedded in his eye socket. Only Yaego had vision sharp enough to make that shot in the dark.
Two down.
I went for the next one’s neck, but he’d dropped his cards and drew his sword in time to meet my dagger. The fourth soldier roused.
“You have no business here,” the closer one said, holding my blade at bay. “Leave at once.”
“Leave, or we’ll sound the alarm,” the farther one demanded, a slight tremor in his voice.
They always think talking will help them live.
In one motion, I stepped in, drew my short swords, and slashed upward, slicing clean across the closer guard’s chest and neck. He fell in a gurgling heap. Three. The last one, farther away, had more time to prepare.
“Intruders!” he shouted. “Sound the warning bell! Call to—”
Sellan surged forward and took the last words from his mouth, stabbing through the hollow of his neck. He’d wasted valuable effort in shouting. Four.
Branye and Praeth hurtled past me to the far door and waited as Sellan returned to my side. We nodded in unison, each knowing the plan. Yaego retreated to block the hallway and drew a pair of the many throwing knives she kept on her person.
Sellan grabbed our assigned door’s handle, but it was locked. As one, we kicked.
The door flew open, and Sellan rushed into the room. With one glance, he pivoted on the spot and turned his back to whatever he saw in the room. I had half a second to consider this before I cleared the doorway.
My vision went red as my sword clattered to the floor.
Someone was standing at the foot of a moderately sized bed with four posts and a carved headboard.
He was trying to block her from us and utterly failing.
I could see every inch of Serae, who was lying on her stomach and covered only at the waist with a strip of her blanket.
Every exposed bit of her beautiful, tan skin was covered in welts, cuts, and bruises.
If not for the cascade of red hair across her pillow, I might not have recognized her.
A bowl and cloth lay discarded on the other side of the bed next to a clear indent where this man had been moments before.
My eyes moved to him, ready to kill. I recognized him—the prisoner I had spared months ago. The same one Serae had fled with during the attack.
“The other room’s clear,” Branye said from the door, “but trouble’s coming.”
Shouts and clanging filtered in through the window. We’d been discovered.
“You.” The prisoner hissed, redrawing my attention. He carried no weapons, just fists raised at the ready. Did he think he could fight me?
“What the fuck have you done to her?” I asked, checking none of the lethality in my tone.
His jaw set. “I’d never hurt her.” Like he had some claim over her. I smiled, knowing he would die at my hand.
I stepped toward him, drawing the long knife I kept at my thigh. He sidestepped, already retreating.
“Wait, you don’t understand.” His back hit one of the bedposts, jarring him.
This time, I didn’t hesitate. My blade plunged straight toward his heart.
Luck alone spared him. He jerked away, and I missed his heart by inches, piercing just below his collarbone and going straight fucking through.
The tip of my knife jammed into the post behind him.
His scream was a melody to my ears, singing out sweet justice.
“Oh, fucking dragon dung,” Branye cursed from the doorway. I turned to her, my fury spiking that she’d dare question this.
The prisoner gasped, clutching at my arm still holding the dagger’s hilt. “Brother,” he wheezed. My head whipped back to him. “I’m…her…brother.”
Shit. All anger fled me as I took a step back.
Yaego, standing watch in the hall, said in Mayoran, “Back in your room, sweetie, or you’ll be next.” A woman squealed, then a door slammed shut.
“Eldreth, this complicates things.” Branye’s tone was grim as she stepped into the room.
“Eldreth?” a weak voice echoed.