Daughter of Dusk (24 page)

“You mean Kyra?”

“I mean Darylene.”

James went completely still. He turned his gaze to Bacchus. “Are you sure?”

“One of my crew heard her confiding to a friend. Seems she’s suffering from a crisis of conscience.”

Rand snapped at them to be quiet. They fell silent as more Red Shields ran past.

“This is what we’ve been waiting for—if she can be convinced,” said James after they’d gone. “Have we got any leverage?”

“In’t that what your boyish charm is for?” said Bacchus.

James tuned out the shouts of guards around him, weighing the risks. Rand and Bacchus stood alert on either side of him. Neither interrupted his thoughts.

“Change of plan,” said James. “I talk to her now.”

Rand dusted off his hands. “To her quarters, then?”

“No, I go alone,” said James. “Her quarters are close by. I can get there fine, but I’ll need a diversion.”

Rand and Bacchus exchanged a look.

“You sure you’ve got your wits about you?” asked Bacchus.

“Aye,” he said. His tone left no room for argument.

Bacchus gave James a long, calculating look, then drew his dagger. “Well, Rand, I’ve always thought those ministers’ houses got too chilly in the winters. What do you
say?”

“I’m in,” said Rand. He looked to James. “Good luck.”

“I’ll see you when it’s done.”

As Rand and Bacchus sprinted away, James crouched down behind the bushes and settled to wait. Now that he wasn’t moving, the chill from the air seeped into his bones, and he hoped Rand and
Bacchus wouldn’t be long. Thankfully the alarm bells soon started ringing a new pattern, and new shouts arose on the grounds around him. Once the shouts moved into the distance, James gritted
his teeth and made his way as quickly as he could.

James knocked on her door and claimed to be a member of the guard force. When the girl opened it a crack, he forced his way in and shut the door behind him, ensuring her
silence with a hand over her mouth and a knife to her throat. She went rigid under his blade, though she didn’t weep or scream.

“I mean you no harm,” he said. “I wish to talk. You’ll want to hear me out, if you care for this city.”

Her eyes fixated on his face at the last few words, and some of the tension left her frame. He took a gamble and removed his hand, then slowly withdrew his dagger. The room they were in was not
as opulent as its counterparts in the outer compound, but the furniture was well crafted, and fine blankets and silk pillows lay piled atop the bed. The girl straightened and smoothed out her gown,
regathering her dignity as best she could.

“If you’re here to take a hostage, you’ll have to find someone the Palace actually cares about,” she said.

“You undervalue yourself. But I’m not here to take a hostage.”

Her eyes flickered over him, lingering on his wounded thigh, taking in the labored rhythm of his breaths and the way he leaned against the wall. He was weak enough now that she had a chance of
overpowering him if she was fast. James could see her considering this, but when she moved, she backed away and sat down on a carved wooden chair.

“What do you have to say?” she asked. She spoke calmly, with her hands folded carefully in her lap.

He spoke his piece, and she listened almost without breathing, weighing every word.

“How can I be sure of you?” she asked when he was done.

“You can’t be sure of anything,” was his only reply.

Rand and Bacchus stood back-to-back, swords drawn, as Red Shields closed in on either side. Scattered at their feet were the bodies of men they’d already cut down. Those
bodies were illuminated, as was everything else in the courtyard, by the flickering light of hungry flames. Even as soldiers regrouped around them, the flames climbed higher. Occasional cracks rent
the air as roof beams buckled and walls caved in. The bleary-eyed wallhuggers who’d fled the fire had long left for a safer part of the compound.

“Think he made it?” shouted Bacchus. His voice was barely audible over the flames and shouts.

“Aye,” said Rand. “He always does.”

Bacchus smiled then, a dangerous smile that made the advancing Red Shields slow in their approach. “You know, he probably meant for us to do something smaller and get our hides out of
here.”

“Selfish bastard,” said Rand. “Trying to steal all the credit for himself. But I reckon we’ve done enough. Time to clear out?”

“Agreed,” said Bacchus. And he raised his blade to meet yet another soldier.

The girl didn’t speak to James for very long, but it was enough time for him to get his point across. Nevertheless, she didn’t agree to his request—it was too
great a thing—though she promised him that she would consider it.

After they finished, she watched as he laboriously pushed himself to his feet and let himself out. She remained sitting, staring at the door after it had closed behind him.

Sometime later, triumphant shouts sounded as the alarm bell rang clearly three times in a row, signaling that the escaped prisoner had been recaptured. Darylene blinked, and some sort of emotion
flickered across her face. She hid it quickly behind her usual mask of calm. Then she took out her handkerchief and scrubbed away the smear of blood he’d left on the door.

N I N E T E E N

L
ettie was missing.

Flick was halfway through his morning chores when he noticed that the girl was nowhere to be seen in Mercie’s small cottage. Between the kitchen, Mercie’s bedroom, and the workroom
where the three of them slept, there weren’t many places a young girl could hide.

“Did she go into the city with Mercie?” Idalee asked when Flick told her.

“No,” Flick said. “I saw Mercie leave alone this morning.”

The two of them looked at each other, then flew into action. Flick swept the house one more time while Idalee called Lettie’s name outside. It was unlike the girl to wander off by herself,
and he feared the worst. But why would anyone kidnap Lettie, yet leave no word or demand?

Still no luck in the house, so Flick ran outside. Mercie’s house was slightly set off from the road, between two farms on either side, with the forest at the back. He had a clear view of
the neighboring farms as well as the road in the distance. He saw no one.

“Flick,” called Idalee from the forest. “She’s over here.”

There was an odd tone to Idalee’s voice. Flick found her just a few trees into the forest. Idalee pointed to the ground in front of her, and Flick looked down to see Lettie curled
up…asleep…between two demon kittens.

“Lettie, what are you—” Flick strode toward them, but Idalee yanked him back.

“I don’t think you want to surprise those two,” she whispered.

Fair point.
The two of them stood watching for a while, unsure what to do. Then the larger yellow kitten stirred. It sneezed, opened its eyes, and fixed them on Flick and Idalee. The
next moment, it was on all fours with legs splayed out and hair standing on end. This woke the other two. The gray kitten opened its eyes and stared. And Lettie’s face took on a perfect mask
of guilt.

“Lettie,” Flick said again, keeping his voice low lest he startle the kittens more. “What are you doing?”

Lettie shrank down and leaned a little closer to the gray kitten. “They wanted to play.”

Play?
These kittens were as big as she was, and their fangs looked sharp. “You’ve been
playing
with them?”

“When you and Idalee were busy around the house,” Lettie said, raising her eyes to his reproachfully.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Today, yesterday, and the day before.”

Flick took a step back, ran a hand through his hair, and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Lettie was safe. She didn’t look to be missing any limbs.
But what by the three
cities had the girl been thinking?

“Come here, Lettie.” He took the girl’s skinny wrists in his hands and rolled up her sleeves, then spun her around in front of him. She had a scraped elbow and a few bruises on
her other arm. Her dress was torn at the bottom.

He opened his mouth to berate her when a familiar voice spoke from the forest. “She has been in no danger. I’ve been watching.”

Flick supposed he was getting used to seeing Adele pop out from between the trees. The clanswoman seemed more sure of herself this time, less shy. “Flick, Idalee,” she said in
greeting.

“Lady Adele,” said Flick, wondering briefly what the proper way to address a Makvani lass was. The day just kept getting stranger and stranger. Though he had to admit that part of
him was glad to see her. The clanswoman intrigued him.

“The kittens mean no harm,” said Adele. “It’s play for them. That’s all.”

“Lettie’s rather scratched up for a bit of play.”

Adele cast a glance at the girl. “How do your small ones grow strong if you don’t let them tumble?”

“I’ll wager our small ones don’t heal as quickly as yours,” said Flick.

Adele held out her arm to Flick and traced a faint scar on her skin. “These marks make me a better sibling to my litter-mates, and a better fighter for my clan. But I know that your young
are more delicate than ours. I made sure that Libena and Ziben were careful.” She crouched next to the kittens and rubbed each of their heads in turn. “The kittens are curious about
humans,” she said.

“As are you,” said Flick.

Adele looked at him, taken aback. Flick was beginning to notice that she startled when he stepped too close, whether physically or in conversation, though she recovered more quickly each
time.

“Our elders mixed more with humans before Leyus pulled us out of the slave trade,” she said. “But we younger ones have only been among our own kind.”

She mentioned the slave trade without any self-consciousness, as if it were just a matter of fact, which Flick supposed it was. Kyra had mentioned something of the sort. “And what do you
think now that you’ve spoken to us?” he asked.

“You
are
weaker, in some ways. But you are not helpless. And you solve your problems by very different means.” Well, that was certainly honest. Flick got the impression that
Adele rarely lied.

Adele looked up then, to some sound Flick couldn’t hear. “One of my kin is close by. Stay here, and stay quiet.”

She untied her tunic and let it drop to the ground as she walked to the trees. Flick caught a glimpse of her (admittedly shapely) backside before propriety prompted him to avert his gaze. Well,
propriety and the fact that Idalee was smirking at him. In theory, the prospect of shape-shifting women who shed their clothes at a moment’s notice had very few downsides. Of course, theory
didn’t include two younger sisters watching his every reaction—Idalee with noticeable amusement, and Lettie with her usual wide-eyed interest.

“Just try not to get yourselves killed, all right?” said Flick, trying his best to hold on to his dignity.

Idalee was still smirking. Flick raised an eyebrow at her, though it warmed his heart to see Idalee’s spunk returning. The girl hadn’t really joked around with him since the
beating.

Adele returned in her fur, and this time accompanied by a larger brown cat. They stopped a few paces away and changed back to their skin. The brown cat was a muscular young man, and this time it
was Idalee’s turn to blush. The only thing keeping Flick from shooting her a wide grin was the presence of the two Demon Riders. He did keep his eyes averted as they dressed themselves, and
this time Adele noticed.