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He spidered from one royal’s window to the next, easing the panes open and ghosting through bedrooms. Using the same poison he’d fed to Queen Jewel, Valek dripped five drops of My Love into their mouths, or their noses if they slept with their lips clamped shut. If they startled awake, he held his hand over their mouths for a few seconds. The fast-acting poison did the rest.
By the time he finished, the noises from the hallways had increased to panic levels with doors slamming, boots pounding and screams mixing with shouts of alarm. Despite exhaustion settling into all his muscles, Valek slipped out the prince’s window and returned to his rooms. The outer door gaped open. Someone had searched them, and his skirts and few possessions were strewn on the floor. He secured the door.
Valek debated changing into Valma’s nightgown to continue the ruse, but by this point either the Commander’s forces would be successful or not, and in both cases Valma was no longer needed.
Instead, he peeled his blood-soaked sneak suit from his battered body, wincing as the dried patches ripped from his skin and the silky material tugged at the deeper cuts on his arms. He sponged off the gore. Red and purple bruises bloomed around the stab wound in his hip. He’d deal with that later.
Donning a pair of pants, Valek locked the bedroom door and collapsed into bed.
He slept for... He had no idea how long. But way too soon, a loud crash jolted him from oblivion. In a blink of two very bleary eyes, four big, well-armed goons surrounded his bed. Cuts, bruises, blood spatters, disheveled hair and ripped tunics all evidence these men had been in a fight. But whose side?
“Is this him?” Bruiser One asked Bruiser Two.
“Yup.”
“Grab him,” Bruiser One ordered the others.
Too tired to resist, Valek allowed them to haul him from the bed. But once he was on his feet, he yanked his arms from Bruiser Three and Bruiser Four. “No need to carry me.” He spread his hands. “I’m unarmed.”
Bruiser One studied him. “Are you sure this is the guy who assassinated the King and his family? He looks—”
“Hold that insult,” Valek interrupted. “If you value your life.”
The man snorted.
“Come on. We’re to report back to the throne room,” Bruiser Two said.
They peered at Valek. He longed to return to his bed, but their postures said they weren’t leaving without him. “Who are you reporting to?”
“The Commander.”
Good news. “Then give me a minute to change.”
After Valek dressed, the four bruisers escorted him to the throne room. He mulled over reasons why they acted as if he were the enemy. They could be recent recruits who had once been loyal to the King’s family. While many citizens of Ixia hated the King, they wouldn’t automatically be supporters of the Commander. He’d have to win their trust and loyalty. And Valek would be required to do the same with the soldiers. The idea would be more palatable once he was fully rested.
The throne room buzzed with activity. Servants ripped the tapestries from the walls, tearing the fabric with knives. Groups of guards herded prisoners toward the Commander, who sat on the throne—a large garish chair made from gold. The overstuffed white cushion was reportedly sewn from snow-cat hide. Ambrose talked to the captives. When he finished, most of them knelt on one knee—probably swearing loyalty, while the others were taken away.
Valek approached with the bruisers by his side. The Commander’s gaze flashed with joy. Giddy with his triumph, Ambrose jumped to his feet and hugged Valek for the first and only time.
“Well done, my boy. Well done.” He thumped Valek on the back. “Where have you been?”
“He was sleeping,” Bruiser Two said.
“How can you sleep? You should be celebrating. The takeover was a complete success!”
“He’s pretty beat up,” Bruiser One said.
“Did that bastard put up a fight?” Ambrose asked.
Valek glanced at his bruiser buddies. “What? No answer this time?”
They stared back.
“It was an intense match, sir. I’ll give you a full report later,” Valek said.
“Good idea. In the meantime, I have something for you.” The Commander gestured to one of his advisers.
The woman picked up a silver platter with a cover. Odd. She presented it to the Commander. He removed the lid with a flourish, revealing Valek’s favorite knife. Bright red blood coated the blade.
“We found it in the King’s chest. I believe it is yours.”
“Guess I need to clean it.” Valek reached for the weapon.
“Won’t work,” Ambrose said.
“Excuse me?”
The Commander grabbed the cloth hanging over the woman’s arm. He picked up the knife and wiped the blade on the material. The blood clung to the metal. Not a drop stained the towel.
“I’m guessing it’s magic.” Ambrose handed the knife to Valek.
He ran a finger along the flat side. The blood avoided his skin, parting as he skimmed over the blade and re-pooling after his finger had passed. A stickiness pulsed from the weapon.
Valek laughed. “He cursed me with his dying breath. Said my hands would always be stained with his blood. Seems the curse attached to my knife instead.” He tsked. “Such a shame. It was my favorite. What should I do with it now?”
“Put it on display in your office. So everyone who walks through those doors knows you are the King Killer.”
And twenty-three years later, the King’s blood still glistened in the lamplight.
* * *
Valek rushed around the next morning, organizing his teams for the mission, assembling supplies and explaining to Ari for the fourth time why Valek was leaving him behind.
“I know where the wagons disappeared in the foothills and where the factory is located,” Ari said. “You’ll need me.”
“I need you here. And you can debrief Janco and Onora when they return.”
“Then can we both catch up?” Ari asked in a hopeful tone.
“Not unless I send for you.” Valek put a hand on Ari’s shoulder when the big man’s expression creased. “Ari, the castle’s security has been lax, and I’m worried we still have gaps. Hedda trained Onora, but she could have trained more. I need you here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Valek watched his friend and hoped Janco returned soon. Ari wasn’t quite Ari without his partner.
On his way back from visiting the stable, one of the gate’s guards rushed up to Valek.
“Sir! There’s—”
“I don’t have time to deal with another messenger.” Valek kept walking.
“It’s not a messenger, sir.”
He paused. “What, then?”
“It’s...well...it’s Kiki, sir. She’s at the gate.”
Did he hear that right? “Yelena’s horse is at the gate?”
“Yes, sir. She is. And she brought...er...friends, sir.”
28
JANCO
Janco watched Maren as she talked and drank Ixian white brandy with the smugglers in the warehouse. His colleague and friend appeared to be at ease with the others. She wore Sitian clothes and her long blond hair had been pulled back into a braid.
Maren’s mystery mission for the Commander was no longer quite a mystery. Janco scratched at the scar below his ear. If Maren was working undercover in the smuggling operation, then why didn’t the Commander inform the rest of them? Finding and stopping this gang had been their priority, so why the secrecy about Maren? He wished Ari was here. His partner would have an answer.
