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The carriage rang with the thunderclap, and the Train shook.
It was messy. There was no way it couldn’t be. Sterrington shrieked in pain as the gun in her hand shattered in a bloom of flame. She clutched at her bloody wrist, trying to stop the flow of blood, bone showing white through the bleeding flesh of her savaged hand.
Lord and Lady Guantes were both getting up from the floor. Atrox Ferox’s gun had exploded much more violently than Sterrington’s, but they weren’t as close to it. All that was left of the weapon was a charred patch, like an exotic stain, which stood out against the grey-draped back wall. Fragments of metal had ripped into the cushions of the chairs and into the thick carpet, and had scarred the dark panes of the windows.
But both the Guantes looked unharmed, beyond some damage to their clothes. Whatever Lady Guantes had under her cape, it wasn’t a gun. A knife, perhaps. Irene didn’t think she was the sort of woman to go unarmed.
‘Doors, bolt.’ There were clicks as the two compartment doors into the passage locked themselves, keeping any minions firmly out. ‘Try anything,’ Irene said quickly, her ears still ringing from the explosion, ‘and I’ll do even worse. Sterrington, go and stand with them.’ The woman stumbled down the carriage towards the Guantes, her face deathly pale.
‘My dear Miss Winters,’ Lord Guantes said. ‘You would appear to have exhausted your resources already.’ He spoke with casual arrogance, but the sheer fury in his eyes and the snap in his voice betrayed his fragile self-control.
‘Lord Guantes,’ Irene cut in, before he could catch her off-balance again. Lady Guantes also had her full attention on Irene, neither of the pair making any move to help Sterrington, who was probably in shock. ‘If I want,’ Irene continued, ‘I can shatter the windows on you, break the floor and ceiling, set fire to the furnishings and break each bone of yours as I name it.’ And it was a good thing that she wasn’t saying all this in the Language, because it wasn’t entirely true. But some of it was. Her hand went to Zayanna’s knife, still stuck in her sash. ‘I have absolutely no compunction about using my full powers.’
‘And should we assume you’re as dangerous as Alberich?’ Lady Guantes asked Irene sceptically. She edged to her right, further away from Lord Guantes.
There was banging on the compartment door.
‘You should assume that I am very dangerous indeed,’ Irene replied.
Lord Guantes took a step to his left. They’re trying to split my attention. ‘Then why aren’t you using these incredible powers?’ he said in tones of polite curiosity.
‘It would endanger everyone in this carriage.’ The banging on the doors was getting louder. She took a deep breath: she had to look in control here. ‘But being your prisoner would be worse, so I’ll act if pushed. So come on, Lord and Lady Guantes. I’m asking you to offer me a better alternative. Call off your men. Let’s talk.’
‘And if we don’t?’ Lady Guantes asked. Her hand slid under her cape again.
‘Then I start by ordering this knife through your husband’s eye.’ Irene pulled the knife from her sash. ‘And whatever you try, madam, I’ll get there first.’
Her absolute sincerity must have shown, as Lady Guantes slowed, her hand now still under her cape, and Lord Guantes gave his wife a little nod.
From the corner of her eye, Irene saw Vale move. His eyelid flicked open, then closed again - not the pained blinking of someone slowly regaining consciousness, but a clear signal. He was awake.
‘Guards, stand down!’ Lord Guantes said sharply, raising his voice so that it would carry through the door. ‘That is an order. All stand down.’ His voice echoed in Irene’s bones, and she had to stiffen her arm to prevent her hand from trembling. ‘I will call if there is any additional trouble.’ Silence fell in the corridor and the Train rattled as it raced on, the shadows of great trees moving beyond the windows. Lord Guantes looked at his wife, then turned back to Irene. ‘Convincing, Miss Winters, but I am hardly about to surrender.’
‘I’m not asking for surrender,’ Irene said, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what she should be demanding. ‘There must be some way that we can both walk away from this. You may already have touched off your war. This dragon’s family,’ she prodded Kai with her foot, ‘they already know that he was kidnapped by you.’
Lord Guantes raised his brows. ‘By me?’
‘And by Lady Guantes, of course,’ Irene said fairly. ‘His uncle showed me pictures of you both. You don’t need Kai any longer: you’ve already made your point.’
Lord Guantes frowned. ‘You say you identified us personally to him?’
‘You’re well known,’ Irene said. ‘He had photos of you. The Library had records on you. I’m hardly the only person who pointed the finger. And even if something does happen to me, you’ll still be on record as the people responsible.’
‘So releasing you would make no difference. And if we let you go, you’ll have even more to report,’ Lord Guantes said pleasantly.
Irene found herself lulled by his speech, and bit her tongue as she felt a wave of his compulsion roll over her. The longer she allowed him to speak, the more opportunity she gave him to use his magic. ‘But he can’t touch you if you stay in high-chaos worlds, can he?’ she pressed.
‘You’d be surprised how far a dragon king can reach—’ Lord Guantes began.
‘My love, let us stay with the essentials,’ Lady Guantes cut him off. ‘Suppose we make a bargain that lets you walk away. What do we get out of it?’
Irene almost sighed in relief. ‘Well, I let you walk away,’ she smiled, gesturing with her knife.
‘That’s all?’ Lady Guantes said.
‘You can spin it however you want,’ Irene said flatly. ‘I’m only interested in getting out of here and putting Kai under his uncle’s protection. I want your oath on our safety. Say we begged, we grovelled, you twisted us round your little finger - say whatever you want to the other Fae, we won’t contradict it. Claim that you got the better of us all the way down the line. I won’t argue. I won’t be there to argue.’
‘That might be worth something,’ Lord Guantes said thoughtfully. ‘Oh, do stop whimpering and tie your hand up, Sterrington. But I’d need more.’
