Bride by Midnight (24 page)

She kissed him. In seconds his life force began to fill her, leaving his body in a fine green mist and moving into her. Mouth, throat, lungs... then that force was everywhere.

“My turn, before he’s empty.” Divya slapped Princess on the side of the head to get her attention. “The beggar did not have much to give.”

Princess slowly, reluctantly, moved away. Soon she would not have to share, but for now she would do what had to be done. She needed her sisters; there was strength in numbers.

Runa stood by the window, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were a child. Princess reached for her thoughts, but saw nothing. The thoughts were there, but they were blocked. Hidden away.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Princess asked as Divya finished off the sentinel.

“Always,” Runa admitted.

“You need never go hungry.” Princess saw the struggle in this one, the fight between dark and light... the uncertainty. Humans had all but ruined Runa, and it would be tempting to try to kill her before she became a liability. Two things stopped her. One, she was not entirely sure how to kill one of their kind. And two, Runa was powerful, more powerful than she let on. She would be an asset to the revolution once she accepted who and what she was.

“Come with us,” Princess said as an energized Divya stood. “If you stay behind, Volker will surely kill you.”

Runa nodded and followed them to the open door, and together the three of them, sisters now and always, ran for the staircase that would take them down and out, and into a world that was not prepared for the likes of the Ksanas.

***

Blade dressed slowly. It would be wonderful to stay in bed, to sleep with Lyssa in his arms and forget everything that had brought them to this point. Everything. Even Volker. For the first time in four years, he had a goal that went beyond revenge, a purpose steeped in something other than hate.

He would protect Lyssa with his life, if need be. He would be her defender, the father of her child, her lover... her husband.

“We have to get out of here, Lyssa.”

She sighed, rolled toward him. Naked, beautiful, soft, and filled with a magic he did not yet understand. Yes, he was tempted to have her again. And again.

“Why?” she whispered.

“It isn’t safe here.” He knew it, in his recently healed heart. Sentinels—or mercenaries like those who had taken Runa four years ago—working at Volker’s command had kidnapped her, and then the bastard had tortured her under the very noses of those who should have protected her. How many sentinels answered to Volker rather than the emperor? How many palace residents might be spying for the man who’d murdered Runa and hurt Lyssa? Blade didn’t know who he could trust, other than his wife, and the empress herself.

“Fine.” She rolled from the bed and donned the gold dress. It was not as simply made as her usual gowns, and even he could tell that the fabric was an expensive one. He almost snorted as that thought passed through his head. When had he ever been one to note how expensive a fabric might be? His time in Cyrus’s store had not been entirely wasted.

Perhaps when all this was behind him he could be a real shopkeeper instead of playing at being one. With Lyssa beside him, of course. It was an oddly tempting—and temporary—thought. He had never been meant for the life of a shopkeeper. Neither had Lyssa.

“Since you bled on my shirt, this was delivered for me.” He held the blue jacket up by one finger and a white shirt by another.

“Fancy,” Lyssa said with a wicked grin. “I’m sure you’ll be quite pretty in your new outfit.”

“Pretty?” He scowled, for effect.

“Well, I do prefer you naked, but that isn’t always practical.”

“Do you want to get out of here before morning?”

“Of course.”

“Then don’t say the word ‘naked’ again.”

She laughed. They both dressed quickly, and Lyssa pulled her hair back, using a clip that had been left on the dresser. “I’ll return it later,” she said. “I can’t make an effective escape with my hair falling into my eyes, now can I?”

They shared the soup because they needed the nourishment. He had not known how hungry he was until the now-cold liquid hit his tongue. Lyssa, after her trials, would need more food soon, but for now the soup would suffice.

Blade stuck the dagger into the sheath at his belt, wishing for a sword, certain that he needed that sword as surely as he needed breath.

Lyssa had asked him once if Blade was his real name or a nickname. He hadn’t answered, and she hadn’t asked again. As he longed for a sword, he remembered his mother’s words from long ago.
I had planned to name you after my brother, but the night before you were born I dreamed of a great, gleaming sword. It was beautiful, and the blade shone with an unnatural light. It twisted and twirled, catching the light and singing in the air. So beautiful. I thought that dream to be a sign, and so I named you Blade.

He’d always believed his mother’s dream to be nothing more than that, a dream—until now.

Blade opened the door and looked into the hallway. The only person he could see from his position was the physician, who was dozing in a chair against the opposite wall. The man opened one eye, alerted by the movement of the heavy door, and sat up straight when he saw Blade standing there.

“Has Miss Lyssa taken a turn for the worse? The empress is quite concerned about her well-being.”

“No,” Blade said calmly. “She’s much better, in fact. I know it’s rather late, but she’s hungry. Could you perhaps fetch a bite from the kitchen? The soup is long gone, I’m afraid. We would much appreciate it.” There had been a time when he would have disposed of the physician in a more direct manner, not by killing him, if it could be avoided, but with a knock on the head and a length of rope. But the man was innocent and did not deserve to be attacked if there was any way around it.

The physician stood, stretched his limbs and nodded. “I could use a bite of something myself. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“No rush,” Blade said.

The physician walked crisply down the hallway and turned toward the stairwell. Blade waited a moment or two, and then he reached back for Lyssa’s hand. She took it and held on.

The palace was so quiet at night. Most of the residents slept, he supposed, though sentinels would be on guard, particularly on the lower floors where the emperor and his family slept. The hallway wasn’t dark as he had thought it might be, but was dimly illuminated by the occasional flickering candle. Sconces were set into the stone walls at regular intervals, and some of them were lit. Others were dark. He grabbed a candle as he passed an ornate table, in case the stairwell was not as bright as the corridor.

“Where will we go?” Lyssa whispered as they reached the end of the long hall.

He released her hand, gave her the candle, and drew his dagger. He did not know what he might find around each corner, and there were many corners and twists in the imperial palace.

“We’ll decide that once we’re out.” Hagan would help, if asked, as would Lyssa’s father. But those were the first places anyone looking for them would go. He kissed her, too quickly, and shielded her with his body as they rounded the corner. The hallway was blessedly clear.

With silent steps they entered the stairwell. There was a hint of light, as if candles burned at intervals along the way. Just below them an unexpected sound echoed up the twisting stairway. He could have sworn it was a girlish giggle.

***

Lyssa trusted Blade with her heart and with her life. She had never trusted anyone so much, she knew that now. Not a potential husband, not her stepmother, not Edine, not even her father. She would put her life into Blade’s hands any day.

She was doing so at this moment.

Lyssa was aware in a way she had never been before, as if her body had taken on animalistic instincts. Danger lurked ahead of them, as well as behind. She felt it. She could almost smell death in the air, and though she was finding new powers every day—every hour—she still did not know who death had come for tonight.

Beyond the palace, the clock struck midnight. Thick stone walls muffled the sound, but it was distinct. Midnight was her time.
Their
time.

The bells announcing midnight were still pealing as she and Blade took the rear entrance to the gardens. The exit should have been guarded, but no sentinels stood watch there. A shiver made its way up Lyssa’s spine. Sentinels should have been there. This was wrong. All wrong.

They stepped into the night, and Blade went still. So did Lyssa. He heard, as she did, whispers from the lush garden. Instead of turning in the other direction, he walked—cautiously, making little noise in the still night—along the garden path toward the whispers. Lyssa would have preferred a clean escape, but if Blade thought it was necessary that they move toward the voices instead of away from them, she would follow without question.

The empress’s gardens were well kept and on a spring day a sight to behold. Flowers bloomed everywhere in abundance. No weed dared to grow here, and if it did it was immediately plucked out and discarded by one of an army of gardeners.

At night, the lush garden was deserted, but no less beautiful by moonlight and the occasional oil lamp that burned softly, even at this hour.

When they turned the corner and saw the scene ahead, Lyssa recoiled in horror. Three girls, pretty blondes, stood straight ahead. Two of them were in the process of wrapping their arms around two entranced sentinels. The third blonde stood back, well away from the romantic scene.

Perhaps outwardly the scene was romantic, but Lyssa saw monsters’ faces on the two who looked so small and defenseless against the larger soldiers. She saw—and felt—darkness enveloping them. The third... the third, a slight young girl who stood with her back to them, was a mixture of darkness and light, and the war within her was causing her horrible pain. Like the other two, she wore a plain white shift not much longer than knee length, her fair hair loose, and no shoes. They all looked as if they’d just crawled from bed.

The sentinels were unaware that anyone watched; they had eyes only for the delicate-looking girls before them.

One girl latched her mouth to the lips of a sentinel. The other looked at Lyssa and Blade, and then at the third blonde, the uncertain one. The girl poised to kiss the entranced man said, “Kill them,” and then she took her own sentinel into her arms.

Chapter Eighteen

Blade watched in horror as the sentinels were trapped in a killing embrace. He started to rush forward to try to save them, even though he realized it was too late. The men had already begun to shrink, to fade away. The girl who did not have a sentinel of her own to devour turned to face them after she was ordered to kill. Head down, she took a step forward but then she stopped. She lifted her head slowly, and Blade stopped, too. He did not even breathe.

Runa
. Older, almost a woman, the very picture of the Runa he had seen in his fever dream... which had not been a dream or a glimpse into the Land of the Dead after all, apparently, but a visitation of some kind. For a moment everything else faded away. He held his breath and his knees went weak. Runa was alive. It was impossible, but she was right
there
. Judging by the expression on her face, she was not nearly as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

Outwardly the slight, young girl—his sister—looked to be no threat to anyone, but he knew her appearance was deceptive. They’d been apart so long, and she was no longer a child. She could be just like the others now. Was she the girl he remembered or was she a monster?

He’d tried so hard to protect her, to shield her from a world that would happily and self-righteously destroy her if they knew the secret of her birth. He’d loved her as a brother should; he’d told her again and again that her life—her soul—would be what she made it, not what anyone else declared it to be.

Had it been enough to save her when she’d been in this place, with these demons, for the past four years? He knew who she’d once been, but he did not know who—or what—she had become.

Lyssa tried to step around him, but he reached out, grabbing her, pulling her back. Runa took a few steps forward, short, tentative steps. “No,” he said gruffly, holding onto Lyssa tightly, holding her in place. Dear God, was he going to be forced to choose between his wife and his sister?

“I can help her,” Lyssa whispered. “Not the others, they are beyond saving, but... this one I can help.”

“No one can help me,” Runa whispered as she came closer.

“I can.” Lyssa turned her head, she looked at Blade, caught his eye. “But there isn’t much time. Trust me, as I trust you.”

Trust me
. He let her go, and she stepped in front of Runa.

“No one can help me,” Runa said again. “I’m poison, inside and out. Don’t touch me....”

Without warning, Lyssa did just that. She reached out and placed both hands on Runa’s shoulders. Lyssa’s body lurched and twitched, but she didn’t let go. Her knees started to buckle, and Blade instinctively caught her. He started to pull her away, to yank her away from the danger she had brought upon herself, but she knew what he was thinking before he did and she whispered, “Not yet.”

Runa closed her eyes and sighed. Tears ran down her face, and she sobbed.

And was that green light in Lyssa’s hands an unnatural light she was transferring to Runa? It was magic, it was healing, it was such a big part of who Lyssa was; of who she had become. She shared it freely.

The three of them were one, for a long moment. Lyssa touched Runa; Blade held Lyssa. Past and present melded. Danced. Blade felt Lyssa’s magic, her pain, and her determination to save this one girl—this one demon. He felt Runa’s pain, too; not only the physical pain of this moment but of life. Of being different, of hiding who and what she was from everyone but him.

Blade had no magic. He was a simple man who had tried very hard to deny the existence of magic even when it had been right before him. But watching his sister and his wife, feeling what they felt... he could see the change on Runa’s face, the shift in the way she held her body. Most sharply of all, he felt the tug of war between good and evil, dark and light.