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“You might beat Valek with these blows.” Janco puffed while blocking Maren’s bow. “He’ll laugh himself silly at how pathetically weak they are, giving you the perfect opening.”
Maren remained silent, but increased the pace of her attack. Janco backed off.
Janco’s words stirred in my mind. An odd little long-shot plan began to take shape. “Ari, can you teach me how to pick locks?”
He considered my words in silence. Finally, he said, “Janco could.”
“Janco?”
Ari smiled. “He seems harmless and happy-go-lucky, but as a boy he got into all kinds of mischief until he was trapped in a tight spot. Then he was given the choice of either joining the military or going to jail. Now he’s a Captain. His biggest advantage is that no one thinks he is serious, and that’s exactly what he wants.”
“I’ll try and remember that the next time he’s cracking jokes and my ribs.” I watched Maren beat Janco a second time.
“Best three out of five, my lady can not deny,” Janco called tirelessly.
Maren shrugged. “If your ego can handle it,” she replied, swiping at his feet with her bow. He jumped, avoiding her attack with an athletic grace, and lunged. The rhythmic crack of wood striking wood filled our practice room.
Ari stood, assumed a defensive stance, and somehow I found the energy to face him.
After the workout, the four of us were resting on the bench when Valek arrived. Maren shot to her feet, as if she thought being found sitting idle was a crime, but the rest of us kept our relaxed positions. I found it fascinating to watch the small changes in Maren’s behavior whenever Valek was around. Her rough edge softened, she smiled more and tried to engage him in conversation or a match. Most of the time he would review fighting tactics with her, or conduct a practice, and she would preen like an alley cat attracting the biggest tom. But this time he wanted to talk to me. Alone. The others left the room. Maren shot me a dark look with the force of one of her bow strikes. I would pay for this tomorrow, I thought.
Valek paced. With an uneasy feeling, I hoped that he wasn’t searching for a rock to throw.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him. “Is it about tonight?” Excitement over exposing Margg soured to nervousness when I thought of the risk I’d be taking. The idea that this might be another waste of time surfaced. Damn Reyad’s ghost! He was making me doubt everything. The leak impacted my life. Someone had tipped off those goons at the fire festival, and Irys had known I was in the forest. Margg needed to be plugged.
“No. We’re all set for tonight,” Valek said. “This is about the Commander.” He paused.
“What about him?”
“Has he been meeting with anyone strange this week?”
“Strange?”
“Someone you don’t know or an adviser from another Military District?”
“Not that I’ve seen. Why?”
Valek paused again. I could see his mental wheels turning as he considered whether or not to trust me. “Commander Ambrose has agreed to admit a Sitian delegation.”
“That’s bad?” I asked, confused.
“He hates southerners! They’ve requested a meeting with him every year since the takeover. And for the last fifteen years, the Commander has replied with a single word: no. Now they’re due to arrive in a week.” Valek’s pacing increased. “Ever since you became the food taster and that Criollo showed up, the Commander has been acting different. I couldn’t put my finger on it before, it was just a nagging feeling, but now I have two particular incidents.”
“The change in his successor and now the southern delegation?”
“Exactly.”
I had no response. My experience with the Commander had been the complete opposite of what I had expected from a military dictator. He considered other opinions, was firm, decisive and fair. His power was obvious; every command was instantaneously obeyed. He lived the spartan life that he endorsed. There was no fear in his advisers and high-ranking officers, just an unflappable loyalty and immense respect. The only horror story since the takeover that I’d heard was about Rand’s mother. Of course, the assassinations before were infamous.
Valek stopped and took a deep breath. “I’ve misdirected some Criollo to our suite. I want you to eat a piece whenever he does. But you’re not to tell anyone, not even the Commander. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied automatically, but my mind reeled over his calling the suite “ours.” Did I hear that right? I wondered.
“Keep your meeting with Margg tonight. I’ll be there.”
“Should I tell Margg’s contact about the southern delegation?”
“No. Use the change of the Commander’s successor. It’s already floating around as a rumor, so you’ll just confirm it.” Valek strode from the room.
In case someone would discover our training room, I hid the practice weapons, removed all visible traces of our presence and locked the door. On my way to the baths, my thoughts dwelled on the meeting tonight. Distracted, I walked by an open doorway. An oddity. In this section of the castle, most of the doors led to storerooms and were kept locked.
Movement blurred to my left. Hands grabbed my arm and yanked me inside. The door slammed shut. Complete darkness descended. I was flung face-first against a stone wall. The air in my lungs whooshed out from the impact. I turned. My back to the wall, I gasped for breath.
“Stay put,” a male voice growled.
I aimed a front kick toward the voice but met air. Laughter taunted. A candle was uncovered. The weak yellow glow reflected off a long silver blade. Terrified, I traced the knife to the hand, then along the arm, and up to the face. Nix.
21
“WHY?” NIX PLACED THE candle among the cobwebs lacing the tabletop. “Why am I always the smartest one?” He stepped closer.
I kicked again, but he blocked it with ease.
“Why haven’t my attempts to discourage you worked?” In the flicker of the candlelight he moved. The edge of his knife pressed against my throat. “Maybe I need to be more obvious?”
The smells of boiled cabbage and body odor penetrated my nose. Keeping my body still, I asked in the most neutral and unfrightened voice I could manage, “What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that no one sees you as a threat. But I’m smarter than Ari, Janco and Maren. I’m even smarter than Valek. Aren’t I?” When I failed to respond, Nix added pressure to the knife. “Aren’t I?”
A thin line of pain burned across my neck. “Yes,” I replied. In the air behind Nix, Reyad’s ghost coalesced out of the dust motes, sporting a smug smile.
“My boss wants you to stop training. I’m not allowed to kill you. Pity.” Nix stroked my face with his free hand. “I’m here to warn you off.”
“Parffet? Why would he care?” As I tried to distract him, my mind frantically shuffled through my brief sessions with Ari on knife defense. Damn, I thought, why hadn’t I paid more attention?
“He doesn’t care. The only thing dull-witted Parffet cares about is getting promoted. But General Brazell has a keen interest in your new hobby.” Nix thrust his free hand between my legs, and leaned his body against mine.
For a terrified second, I froze. Panic erased all techniques of self-defense from my mind. A soft buzzing began to grow inside my head, but I stifled it, pushed it away, and it transformed into a simple musical scale of notes. Calm flowed. The necessary defense moves appeared before my eyes.
I moaned and rocked my hips, widening my stance.
Nix smiled with delight. “You’re just the whore I thought you’d be. Now, remember, you’re to be punished.” His upper thigh replaced his hand. He began to tug at my belt.
I rubbed my knee between his legs then rammed it straight up into his groin. Grunting, Nix doubled over. I grabbed his blade with both hands to prevent it from biting farther into my throat. Ari’s practical voice, “Better to cut your hands than your neck,” echoed in my head even as I winced at the sharp pain. Focusing on t
he knife, I pushed the weapon from me. Nix stumbled back.
“Bitch!” He snarled and pulled his arm back to swing the knife.
As the blade swept toward me, I stepped in close to his body, so when I turned, my right shoulder brushed his chest. Using the edges of my opened hands, I struck his upper and lower arm. The combined force of my strike and his swing made Nix’s arm go limp. The weapon clattered to the floor.
Grabbing his arm, I twisted it until the heel of his hand pointed toward the ceiling. Then I pivoted, placing my right shoulder under his elbow. With all my might, I yanked his hand down. I heard a loud crack followed by a scream as Nix’s arm broke. Spinning around to face him, I punched him twice in the nose. Blood gushed out. While he was off balance, I kicked his kneecap, breaking it. Nix crumpled to the ground.
I danced around him, kicking him in the ribs. My blood hummed and sizzled. His weak attempts to block me only fueled my frenzy. In that state of mind, I might have killed him.
Reyad’s ghost cheered me on. “That’s it, Yelena,” he urged. “Kill another man, and it’s the noose for sure.”
Somehow, his words reached the rational part of my mind, and I stopped, breathing hard. Nix was still. I knelt beside him and felt for a pulse. A strong throb met my fingertips. The relief that coursed through me vanished when Nix clutched my elbow.
I yelped and punched him in the face. His grip relaxed, and I pulled my arm free. Snatching the knife from the floor, I took Janco’s often-repeated advice for self-defense: “Hit and git.” I ran. But this time fear didn’t follow me. I ran with imaginary scarlet wings flowing behind me.
Moving fast to ward off the shakes that threatened to overpower me, I reached the baths. They were empty at this time of day, so I hid Nix’s knife under one of the towel tables. I checked the extent of my wounds in the mirror. The cut on my neck had stopped bleeding. But two deep gashes on my palms looked serious enough to require the medic’s attention. There was also a wild, unrecognizable shine to my eyes, as if I had turned feral. I bared my teeth and thought, Now who’s the rat? Pondering my next move, I wavered. The Commander expected me to taste his dinner, but I couldn’t bleed all over his food. My initial surge of energy from the fight with Nix was waning. A wave of dizziness swelled. I headed toward the infirmary, hoping to reach it before I passed out.
Medic Mommy gave me a quick appraisal. She pointed to an examining table. I perched on the edge and held my hands out for inspection.
“How…” she started.
