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“He wouldn’t do that.” But the words lacked conviction.
“He has to. She’s trouble.” He gave her a wry grin. “Always has been. In order for the Commander to rule the Sitian clans without resistance, he needs to assassinate the Sitian Council, the Master Magicians, Yelena and a few other influential people.”
“He’d wait until the babe’s born,” she said, as if trying to reassure herself.
“He can’t risk the baby growing up and plotting revenge for the death of his or her parents. Plus, we both had magic at one point—the baby might turn out to be a powerful magician.”
Medic Mommy’s face creased in concern. She was all about saving lives. He played his final card. “Before I left, we picked names for the baby. Vincent for a boy and Liana for a girl. What do you think?”
“They’re...” She swallowed. “Nice names. I...better get back to work.” The medic bolted.
Valek hoped he’d planted a seed. At this point, he had no other options. But the next couple times she checked on him, she avoided all conversation, keeping focused on her duties.
Before she left the next day, he asked if she’d let him stand up. “Just for a few minutes? Otherwise, you’re going to have to carry me to the noose. I give my word not to do anything.”
But she shook her head and dashed from the room. When the door opened, he counted four guards outside. The Commander wasn’t taking any chances. Valek tensed and relaxed his muscles. Straining against his bonds also helped to keep his body limber. It passed the time. Once he’d flexed each muscle, he started over again. He feared the only chance he’d have to escape was the trip to the noose.
Time dripped by, leaving Valek with nothing to do but think. He didn’t like where his thoughts led. The only scenario in which his friends and family didn’t perish was if Sitia won. A possibility, if they weren’t reeling from the attacks by the resistance. No. Valek doubted Sitia had the skills to beat the Commander’s army.
Two, maybe three days later, a muffled sound woke Valek. The door swung open. He blinked in the lantern light as a couple dark figures entered. Only their eyes showed, but Valek recognized Adrik’s broad build.
“Vacation’s over,” Adrik said. He unlocked the cuffs and helped Valek stand.
The world tilted, and he leaned on the bed for a moment.
“Here,” Pasha said, thrusting a uniform into his hands.
Getting dressed required some help. But once he could stand on his own, he asked, “Weapons?”
Adrik handed him two knives. Not his, but Valek would rectify that as soon as he was able.
“Time to go.” Pasha peered out the door. The four guards lay in a heap in the hallway.
They hurried through the silent and empty corridors. Adrik and Pasha moved as if they’d planned the route in advance. Soon they were outside.
“The gate?” Valek asked. The effort to keep up the pace had winded him.
“Taken care of,” Adrik said.
Sure enough, there were a few prone forms on the ground. A handful of Valek’s agents waited in the shadows. Most of them had been in the dungeon with him.
“About time, Boss,” Qamra said. “Come on. We have reservations for dinner in Sitia, and I don’t want to be late.”
He scanned his loyal corps. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. Now, come on.” Adrik headed for the gate.
But Valek remained in place. “You go on without me.”
Everyone stared at him.
“But—” Pasha started.
“Stay together and act as if I’m still with you. I’m going to need a couple days, so lead them on a merry chase.”
Understanding smoothed her features.
“What do we do when we arrive in Sitia without you?” Adrik asked.
“Find Yelena. She’ll make sure you’re not arrested or harmed.”
“You can’t beat him,” Qamra said.
“No, but I have to try. It’s Sitia’s only chance.”
“What should we tell Yelena?” Pasha asked.
“That I’m doing this for a peaceful life. She’ll understand.”
* * *
Valek returned to the castle. He knew every inch of the building, from the dungeon’s abyss to the rooftops. First he needed a place to hide. He had regained some of his strength while recuperating in the infirmary, but he had to get back into fighting shape before he faced the Commander.
Five days later, he was ready. Well, as ready as it was possible to be, considering his circumstances. Plus only four days remained until the Commander attacked Sitia. To conserve his energy, Valek decided on a frontal assault versus climbing over the rooftops. Stealth was no longer needed.
After the Commander retired for the evening, Valek strode up to the two men guarding the entrance into his apartment. He hoped his reputation would scare them away, but he was prepared to fight dirty to save energy.
When he approached, he cursed under his breath. Just his luck—Sergeant Gerik was on duty. Valek wondered if the Commander had informed the man that Onora still lived. Gerik growled and pulled his sword when he spotted Valek. That would be a no. The second man also brandished his weapon, but he appeared a bit shaky.
“I should have let you fall to your death,” Gerik said, sliding his feet into a fighting stance.
Gerik had been covering the wall the night Valek had visited the Commander. “Onora is alive and well.”
That deflated some of the menace from Gerik. Not all, but it was a start.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” the sergeant asked.
“Because your sister trusts me.”
He jerked in surprise. “She told you?”
“Yes. Thank you for saving my life. Now get lost.”
The other man took a step back, but Gerik put a big hand on his shoulder, anchoring him in place. “We can’t,” he said. “The Commander would hang us as traitors. And, no offense, Valek, but if Onora couldn’t kill him, you can’t, either.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Valek drew a knife with one hand while he yanked a couple darts with the other. Before the men had a chance to react, he hit them both in the neck with Leif’s sleeping draft.
Gerik yanked his out. “What’s this?”
“It’s supposed to make you fall asleep,” Valek said.
An awkward silence ensued. Finally, Gerik’s companion swayed on his feet and leaned back on the wall. The guard struggled to keep his eyes open and failed. He toppled to the ground.
Showing no signs of drowsiness, Gerik glanced at his companion. “Supposed to?”
“Leif warned us that it doesn’t work on everyone.” And it was just his luck that he’d found someone who was immune.
Valek didn’t have the time or energy to spare to fight Gerik. Perhaps he should hit him with a second dart.
Shoving the dart back into his neck, Gerik stretched out on the floor.
Touched by the big man’s gesture, Valek said, “Thank you again.”
“It was nice knowing ya.” Gerik closed his eyes.
Valek unlocked the door into the short hallway that contained only two doors that faced each other. Valek’s suite was on the right and the Commander’s on the left. He paused as sorrow swelled. Twenty-four years together, and they ended up right back where they started.
The Commander’s door was unlocked. Keeping the knife in his hand, Valek entered without knocking, then drew the second blade. Ambrose sat in his favorite armchair by the hearth, sipping brandy. Valek’s knives rested on the table in front of him.
Not surprised to see Valek, the Commander smiled instead. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He gestured to an empty glass. “Drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“All right, then.” The Commander set his drink down and snatched the daggers from the table in one fluid motion. He stood. “Shall we?” He inclined his head toward the right side of the living area. The Commander had cleared away all the furniture.
“Can I convince you not to invade Sitia?” Valek asked.
“No.”
“Then we shall.” Keeping the Commander in sight, he moved to the cleared area. “I wish to reclaim my knives.”
“Oh, you’ll get them back soon enough.” The Commander attacked.
When they had sparred before, the Commander preferred to remain on the defensive for the first series of exchanges, testing Valek. Not this time. Ambrose lunged, aiming for Valek’s throat with the intent to kill in his cold hard gaze.
Valek shuffled back and blocked. The impact reverberated through Valek’s bones. The grim knowledge that this fight wouldn’t last long coiled around his heart and tightened, evicting the fear and doubt that had been dwelling there. Pure determination pulsed inside him as the Commander increased the pace, striking with unrelenting quick jabs—a brutal street style that Valek hadn’t expected.
