Silverlight (27 page)

“Then you know how it feels.”

He lifted his eyes to the top row of windows.
“Yes, I know. I know all too well.” He cleared his throat and lowered his foot
from the boulder. “So. I see a double oak door over there. I imagine it’ll get
us in.”

“You’re right, though it’s clearly a
replacement for the one that burned.” Something that felt like satisfaction
caused me to smile.

“It’ll be locked from the inside and probably
guarded. What’s the plan?”

“We should find a place to sleep and go in
tomorrow morning, before first light.”

“We can’t do that. Someone will find the dead
guards we left out there,” Magnus said.

“You’re right. After dark then? It’s the supper
hour now. The halls will be full of soldiers. Garai eats in the throne room, so
we won’t be able to get near Silverlight. In any case, using that side door is
too risky. I know of a hidden staircase. It was made of stone, so it may not
have burnt. If it’s gone, we’ll have to pile rocks and crawl in through a
window. That one there.” I pointed to a window at the back of the ruined
building. “It drops into a pantry and storage closet.”

“You did pay attention to your surroundings,
didn’t you?”

“You bet I did. Garai wasn’t stupid, nor was he
terribly careless, which is why I can’t believe he left those lit candles in my
room. I always thought he wanted me to try something, so he could catch me in
the act. So he could justify hurting me. I foiled him with compliance,
obedience, and diligent attention, at least to the extent that I could.” I spun
in a slow circle as I viewed my destructive handiwork. “Where I was in the
castle, how I got there, the people and their routines. I memorized it all. I
knew if I ever got the chance to run, it would be my
only
chance. If that
one attempt failed, I was lost. He’d break every bone in my body, and take his
sweet time doing it.”

All true. Why, then, had I willingly returned
to this place?

T
hankfully, the fire had spared the hidden
staircase, though the walls were soot-stained right up to the arched entrance
that stood a few feet away.

I wasn’t raised in a castle, of course, but I’d
never seen such narrow stairs. They headed up toward the roof between the thick
stone walls in a tight left-hand curve, built into a forgotten corner of a
hallway that seemed to go nowhere.

“Brilliant,” Magnus murmured. “Sturdy and
probably sound proof. This would’ve been a safe place to hide the royal family during
an invasion. Or secretly funnel soldiers up to the roof during battle.” He
stepped through the archway and placed one hand flat upon the smooth, gray
stones. “The enemy would scale the outside walls thinking the parapet was
mostly undefended, only to find an entire battalion waiting for them along the
inner wall up there.”

“I always thought it would be hard to fight on
these stairs,” I said.

“It would be impossible,” Magnus said with a
mysterious smile. “And that’s why they curve off to the left in such a narrow
spiral. A right-handed warrior would quickly be killed here if he were going
up. He’d be fine coming down.”

“Oh.”

He pressed his lips tight, studying the archway
as one would regard a spider. “Let’s get in and get out. We won’t start a fight
if we don’t have to.”

“I agree, but I don’t want to rush and make a
mistake. Follow me.” Though I dreaded the climb, I moved before my courage
abandoned me. “There’s a small window approximately twenty-three steps up that
opens into a mews.”

Magnus scratched his chin. “A mews?”

“It housed falcons when King Pinchot lived. The
window into the mews is the best, and safest, place to enter. The throne room
is down the hallway, maybe fourteen or fifteen steps, then two doors down on
the right.”

“Who was King Pinch–?”

“Pinchot. Garai’s grandfather. The mews has
been empty for over forty years. Garai encouraged barn owls and bats to take up
residence, to help manage the insects and rodents, but they won’t bother us.” I
ducked my head and glanced up the staircase. “The rest of the castle is a pig sty,
but Garai refused to eat anything made with grain he believed had been infested
with mice.”

“And where did you learn all that?” Magnus
asked.

“At one of his dinners.” I scowled. The meals
were often good for reconnaissance but bad for my overall wellbeing. Some of
the worst beatings that bastard ever doled out came after a quiet dinner. “He once
threw an entire tray of bread and rolls at a servant, saying he could smell the
mouse shit baked into it. I almost laughed, but he was serious.”

“I don’t understand how you puzzled out the
interior of the castle from verbal clues.” Magnus furrowed his brow. “How did
you know this staircase was here?”

“That much, at least, wasn’t verbal. The guard
sometimes sent to fetch me for . . . whatever Garai had in mind that particular
night often dragged me with him as he performed chores along the way. I climbed
these stairs more than once with the point of a spear in my back. You can smell
the guano when you get near the window.” I inhaled. “And wet feathers. The
first time I bent to look in the window, I got a sharp rap on the side of the
head for my efforts, so I asked what was on the other side. The guard said it
was an old falcon mews but there was naught but owls in it. In the same breath,
he growled that it was none of my business. Garai told the story of his
grandfather’s falcons at the supper table several weeks later. It didn’t take
long to make the connection. I took note of the door one day when I was in that
hallway outside the throne room.”

“Interesting,” Magnus said.

With no further word, I began to climb the
stairs, barely able to see my hands in front of me. I counted twenty-three
steps then felt along the wall for the window. My fingers soon bumped against
the thick stone sill beneath it.

I stuck my head in the rounded open window; the
sharp tang of birds and dust and decades of guano assaulted my nose. “Here it
is,” I whispered. “The window is small. I’ll go through first. You’ll probably
have to hand Bloodreign in to me. I don’t know if you’ll be able to get through
with it strapped to your hip.”

I unbuckled the baldric holding Promise,
reached in the window, and propped it against the wall. The golden-pink rays of
a setting sun streamed through an overhead loft, just enough to see shadow and
outline. The chainmail made more noise than I liked, but I got through the
window with no problems.

My hands hit the floor and sank into a thick
layer of filth, but I couldn’t afford to be squeamish. I leapt to my feet, took
Bloodreign from Magnus, then reached for his hands. “Here. Gods, I hope you can
get through wearing that hauberk and jerkin.”

He took my hands and ducked his head inside the
window. A moment later, I heard him groan. “I think I’m stuck.”

“You can’t be stuck already.” I leaned over to
look. He was exactly halfway through the window, wedged like a cork in a wine
bottle.

He struggled a little, then a lot. The mews
echoed with the squeak of chainmail and leather.

I stepped back to give him room. “Try again.”

“I’m stuck, Kymber. I’m too big to fit through.”
He grunted once . . . twice . . . then sighed. “You may have to get Silverlight
and meet me back here.”

Fear sent prickles down my spine. Prowling the
hallways of King Drakoe Garai’s castle alone was not part of my plan. I’d
pictured us going in and fighting together if necessary.

“Is there another way in?” he whispered. “Can I
meet up with you in the hall outside the mews?”

I thought about it and rejected it as too
risky. Together, we were formidable. If separated, even for the few moments it
would take him to join me in the hallway . . . well, I didn’t like the idea.

“Can you take your clothes off, then redress in
here?” I asked.

“I don’t think that will help. This doesn’t
please me either, but if you want your sword, you may have to go yourself.
Think about it. One can move faster than two. It may be easier.”

“I wish I believed you.” I took a moment to
think. I no longer knew the castle’s routines. Soldiers were stationed . . .
where? It seemed inconceivable that Garai would leave the door into the ruined
wing unguarded. He’d know it for the weakness it was.

Which meant there would be guards in the
hallway to the throne room, which meant Magnus couldn’t very well open that
door and swagger in by himself. We were both dressed as guards though – that
would buy us a little security.

 I still didn’t like the thought of separation.
Soldiers travelled in pairs. A lone man would raise suspicion. “Try again,
Magnus. Please.”

Another long sigh, grunts and groans, then a
small snort. “I’m too big to fit through. In fact, I’m going to have trouble
backing out. I’m wedged in tight.”

“Damn it.” I clenched my fists. “Damn it!”

“Kymber, this is foolish. It’s too dangerous.
Push me. Help me wiggle free, and we’ll go home.”

I knew he was right. I began to agree with him,
but he jerked hard once, twice, three times in the window.

 I thought he was trying to free himself again,
but when he looked up at me, I knew that wasn’t the case. Horrible sounds came
from deep in his throat, half scream, half groan. He jerked once more and went
limp, his cheek pressed against the inside wall.

“Magnus?” I knelt, gripped his shoulders, and
shook him. “Magnus? What’s wrong?”

His eyes rolled back in his head. “Kymber, run.
Ru . . . run!”

I didn’t have time to run. I didn’t even have
time to ponder what he meant. The door into the mews crashed open, and the room
was suddenly full of Pentorian soldiers.

“She’s here, she is!” someone shouted. “Take
her!”

They crowded me, their homely faces framed by
chainmail hoods, eyes bright with triumph. Open hands clutched at me, too many
to fight off, though I tried. The gods know I tried.

 I didn’t have my weapon; it was still propped
against the wall where I’d left it with Bloodreign.

I tried to fight my way to Magnus, but the
soldiers held me fast. I whipped my head around instead, before they blocked my
view.

He was unconscious, hanging limp as a sleeping
cat over the windowsill.

 “What have you done to him?” I screamed. “What
have you done?”

A vicious backhand across my right cheek
dropped me to my knees. The man who’d hit me snatched my braid up in his fist
and snapped my head back. “Don’t you worry about that, missy,” he said. “A big
man like Tyrix should be able to take a bolt or two to the back and live to
tell the tale.”

A bolt? Or two? They’d shot him with a
crossbow!

“Let me go.” I struggled to rise. “If he dies,
I’ll burn the rest of this fucking castle to the ground!”

The soldiers laughed as they swept me out into
the hallway.

I knew where they were taking me. It was not
quite the entrance I’d envisioned.

“G
ods, Kymber, you and Tyrix made enough noise to
stir the dead.”

I swallowed to keep the contents of my stomach
intact. I wasn’t having a nightmare. Garai was there, on his throne, in his
throne room. The voice was the same. Raspy, arrogant, sure of his might. Where
would I ever find the courage to look into his eyes?

Yet I knew if I didn’t, the bastard would think
he had the upper hand. My capture was simply a temporary setback. I was not
beaten, not cowed.

Not yet.

So I tightened my hold on my composure –
and
the contents of my stomach – and met his gaze.

The amused look on Garai’s face sent my thoughts
skittering. He’d aged fast – and not well – in the two years I’d been gone.

 His once dark hair was blended white and gray,
and he’d let it grow down past his shoulders. It reminded me of an old spider
web hanging in an unlit corner, thin and wispy.

The creases and lines on his face looked as
though they’d been wrought with a mallet and chisel. Garai’s ancestors had
bequeathed dusky bronze skin to him, but the candlelight in the throne room
revealed an unhealthy yellow cast beneath.

His gray-green eyes were the color of a stormy
sea, a potent weapon, as sharp and cruel as any blade, though the right eye
seemed to be missing now.

Missing?

 Well, perhaps not missing. Permanently closed?

A dreadful scar began at his hairline, ran from
the middle of his forehead, traveled through the center of his right eyelid, then
tracked downward across his cheek. Whoever had cut him had caught the corner of
his mouth with the blade. His lip had healed badly. Split clear up to his right
nostril, it looked as though someone deep in his cups had drawn it together and
stitched it. A perpetual grimace twisted one side of his face.

Physically, he was a mess, but I couldn’t allow
that to lull me into a false sense of security. What made him dangerous was
tucked away inside his skull.

Garai sat upon his throne with lazy ease, one
leg thrown to the side. Our arrival had pulled him from his bed. He still wore
his homespun nightshirt, though he’d taken the time to put breeches on beneath
it. I sucked in a hopeful breath when I saw the gnarled cane leaning against
the throne’s wide arm.

I’d pay for it later, but I wanted to fire the
first shots. “Hello, Garai. You look a bit used up, like something that crawled
down from the Shadowlands on webbed feet. And here I thought you might finish
evolving if I wasn’t around to distract you.”

Sparks flew in that one wide eye, dulling a bit
when he allowed himself a lascivious smile. “Hello, Kymber. It’s nice to see
you again. So kind of you to leave a calling card for me.” He raised his hand;
he was clutching a dark ball of fabric.

It took me a moment to realize what he held in
his fist. My breeches. The ones I’d discarded outside, in the hedgerow. He’d had
them hidden in the folds of his nightshirt. They’d obviously found the dead men
and our clothing, but how did he know it was me?

Garai answered my internal question in the most
chilling way by lifting my breeches to his nose and making a dramatic show of
inhaling. He then closed his eyes and smiled. “Ahh. I knew it was you from one
sniff of the crotch. I had my nose down there often enough, didn’t I?” He
tapped the side of his head with an index finger. “It’s all right here. One
doesn’t forget the most delicious thing they’ve ever eaten.”

A red haze clouded my vision as I struggled
with the soldiers who held me. “I’m going to cut your throat, Garai. I’m going
to drape you over the parapet and let
your
blood run down the stones.” 

“Is that so?” Garai shifted on the throne,
regarding me with mock interest. “Such an ugly thing to say, Kymber.” He made a
noise of disapproval deep in his throat. “I suppose this means we’ll have to
begin your training all over again.”

“No more. No more training. No more cowering.”

“Hmm. I wonder.” He sat back and rubbed his
chin with one hand. “Would you cower to keep me from hurting him?”

A wide space in front of the throne cleared as
if a stiff wind had blown all the guards to one side. Four men dragged Magnus
in and threw him to the floor at Garai’s feet.

Gods. Now I knew why he’d thrashed in the
confines of the window. A bolt protruded from his left shoulder, piercing thick
leather and chainmail to lodge within him.

My heart thumped wildly as I assessed Magnus
from where I stood. A small trace of blood had seeped out around the bolt. He
appeared to be breathing. Maybe he wasn’t too badly hurt. Maybe he would live.

Why, then, was he as limp as a wet shirt?

“What did you do to him?” I asked Garai.

“I soaked the bolt in parinthian root. Magnus
Tyrix, the mighty warrior of Jalartha, will now sleep for the length of time I
need to find out just how compliant you’re willing to be.” Garai’s eyes moved
from Magnus to me. “To keep him whole and healthy.”

I felt sick. I’d do anything . . .
anything
. . . to keep Magnus whole and healthy, but that boon wouldn’t last long. Garai
would eventually tire of the game he played. He’d kill Magnus right in front of
me to prove a point.

But that threat was a two way street, whether
Garai knew it or not. “I’ll do anything you ask, as long as he
does
stay
whole and healthy. Kill him, and you’ll need to sleep with one eye open for the
rest of your life.” I smirked. “And since you only have one left…”

The crowd in the room surged and parted again.
A guard marched forth and gifted my captor with Promise and Bloodreign. Garai
slid Magnus’s sword halfway out of the sheath and grinned. “Two more trophies
to add to my wall. I think I’ll hang them just below Silverlight.” He leaned
forward. “You
do
remember Silverlight, don’t you?”

Oh, I remembered, but I hadn’t looked up at her.
I didn’t want to be reminded of my failures.

No, not failures,
I thought.
Not yet.
As long as you both live, there’s a chance.

I lifted my eyes to the reason I was even here
in the first place. Silverlight, my beloved sword. The one my father presented
to me with tears in his eyes, but only after I’d proven myself worthy. I’d
earned her by working hard, training long hours under a hot sun. She was
tarnished and dusty, bound to the wall by wire and hooks, but she was intact.

“Go ahead and hang them.” I affected a bored
tone. “They won’t be there long.”

Garai laughed harshly. “Oh my, Kymber, you give
me chills when you talk like that.” He rose from the throne and stepped down to
face me. “Do you remember Tavia Thrallkeld?” 

He moved to one side and clapped his hands.
Tavia stepped out from behind his throne, holding a small crossbow in her right
hand. Hoisting the weapon onto her hip, she stared at me with feral amber eyes.

“Did you shoot him?” I asked, nodding at
Magnus.

“I did,” Tavia replied.

“Then I owe you one.”

 An odd wave of revulsion and longing struck me
when she smiled and nodded, her long, golden-brown hair rippling like silk.
“I’ve missed you, Kymber.”

The voice of a goddess. I lost all sense of
time and space as she moved toward me, her gleaming eyes holding mine like
golden shackles.

She was the Tavia I remembered, with a twist. No
longer garbed in the plain dresses of an apprentice healer, she now wore the
leather uniform of a Pentorian warrior assassin. Her jacket was stunning, and
it fit her to perfection:  glossy black, short, buckled tightly in front at the
waist.

 Three black leather panels trimmed in gold
satin fell away in a smart drape from her waist, intended to protect her hips
and thighs from sharp weapons. Form-fitting black hose and knee-high leather
boots with silver buckles completed the ensemble.

My eyes could not reconcile the woman standing
before me with my memories.

Tavia Thrallkeld, of the kind hands and soft
mouth. She brought her ointments and herbs and poultices to my room when Garai
finished with me, murmuring comforting words as her fingers soothed my battered
flesh. Tavia took care not to hurt me any more than was necessary when she came
to me. She’d lovingly cleaned and dressed my wounds, which made her an anomaly
in the world I inhabited then.

I craved human contact. No surprise that I
opened myself to her like a flower unfurls to sunshine. Finished working her
magic as a healer, she would make magic as a lover, helping me forget where I
was for a time. Her fingers, her kisses . . . I shivered. “A woman knows what a
woman likes,” she’d whisper in my ear.

Tavia was tall and elegant, screaming
sensuality with every step she took. She closed her eyes and began to lower her
mouth to mine even before she got to me. Mesmerized, head tipped back, my lips
parted to accept her kiss.

A distant voice shouted a warning in my head. It
took me a moment to recall the core truth about Tavia.

Yes, she’d been gentle and caring, but she was
still Garai’s creature. Two sides of the same coin, only she used pleasure the
way Garai used pain. Either way, I’d been helpless, and I was done with helpless.

At the first brush of her lips on mine, I
slammed my forehead into her nose and upper lip. She hissed an oath and
recoiled. Seconds later, she slapped me with so much force that I blacked out.

I awoke to her bending over me, holding a
bloody cloth to her face. “Bitch. You’ll pay for that.”

Her words came out muffled. I was tempted to
laugh but I realized no one was restraining me. Ah well, in for a penny, in for
a pound. I swung my fist and connected with the side of her head. It earned me
several brutal kicks in the stomach and ribs, and more pain than I’d known for
a while. I curled into a ball and went still as Tavia’s boot dug into my side.

Garai knelt beside me. My stomach roiled at his
scent: iron and piss and filthy male. “Yes, I can clearly see you’ll have to be
retrained. We’ll start now.” He rose. “Get her up,” he snapped to the guards.

I was unceremoniously hoisted to my feet. Garai
used my braid to yank my head back. Second time today. I resolved to cut the
damned thing off first chance I got.

“The uniform you’re wearing belongs to me. Take
it off. All of it,” he said.

A familiar coldness poured over me, but I knew
this was just the beginning. He’d do much worse before the day was over.

Still, I said with as much fury as I could
muster, “I will
not
.”

His good eye glittered with amusement. “You
will.” Slowly, slowly, he moved toward Magnus, sliding Bloodreign from its
sheath. Garai straddled Magnus’s body and pressed the point against the back of
his neck. “Or I’ll kill him.”

“No!” I surged forward and met a wall of hands
and bodies. “No. Please. I’ll take the clothes off.”

I took hold of the ties lacing the jerkin,
briefly thinking of the shoe nails. The ones I was going to use to pick locks,
and there would most certainly be locks to pick. Shackles. A cage. Both. If I
stripped, I’d lose the nail hidden in the collar of the jerkin.

 Perhaps he wouldn’t make me remove my boots.
My heart clenched in my chest. Of course he would. He wanted me bared to my
soul, humiliated and weeping.

I screamed obscenities in my head, but I didn’t
give them voice. It wouldn’t do any good. Garai would find out just how much I
was willing to endure to keep Magnus alive.

I moved trembling fingers down the ties of the
leather vest, counting silently as I did so. One, two, three, four – as though
it would bolster my courage. As though I could somehow draw strength from that mundane
act.

The counting helped somewhat, but I lost
anything I’d gained when I slid the jerkin down my arms and off my shoulders.
This was happening, truly happening, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Garai had me right where he wanted me, only this time he had the man I loved as
well.

I gripped the edge of the hauberk and pitched
headlong into pity. We’d been fools. Fools! What made me think we could sneak
into Garai’s castle unnoticed? I, of all people, should’ve known better. After
all, it had taken me eight years to find a single moment of opportunity.

I should’ve been satisfied with Promise, but
killing Tariq made me feel invincible. A moment of thought, of thought grounded
in
reality
, would’ve spoken the truth to me.

“Faster, Kymber.” Garai’s eye was a hot flame
on my body. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

I pulled the hauberk over my head and threw it
on the floor. I removed the thin chemise and hose next. I knew the answer, but
I couldn’t resist asking: “My boots too?”

“Everything,” he said in a low voice. “I want
to see you naked.”

I gave a short bark of laughter. “Well, of
course you do.”

He ran light fingertips over my cheeks. “Oh,
how I’ve missed you, my fiery Kymber. It was almost worth losing you. You’re as
brazen as you were when I first took you, but I have a desire to gaze upon my
handiwork.”