Page 33 of A Spell of Heart & Havoc

We sat together awhile longer as the children finished their snacks and began to play Thieves and Nobles around the garden. I learned about Orinno’s life before the priory and what it was like to be dedicated to the dual goddess’s service now. I found myself sharing much about my own history, life at the manor, Choia and Petra. He told me about his multifold work in the priory, helping in the infirmary, the children’s wing, wherever he was needed. When clouds hid the sun and we saw the kids begin to shiver, Orinno and I gathered them up and hustled everyone back inside. Maerryl, I saw, had reappeared at some point and stationed herself in the shadows of the hall behind me, looking bored and stony-faced.

Once the children were settled around a freshly stoked fire and their afternoon tutor had arrived—an elderly cleric who was a devotee of world history—I said my goodbyes and headed out to the stables, my bodyguard trailing behind. Still silent, as she had been for a day and a half. I was beginning to find it somehow more grating than her near-constant prickling from before.

“Did you enjoy the kitchens again?” I asked stiffly as we rode out the priory’s front arch, waving farewell to the greeter acolyte lounging nearby. Her pan flute music carried us out and onto the road, low and gentle.

Maerryl grunted. Careful to keep a couple horse lengths behind me as she did this morning, I couldn’t even see her properly without twisting around in my saddle. Which I absolutely would not do.

We paced along the road, silent once more. I knew she was furious. Or perhaps she’d simply just given up on me. Was I wrong this whole time? Why had I been so suspicious of her from the moment she stepped foot in my manor?

Maybe I’d read this whole situation, her intentions and actions, completely wrong. Yes, I despised being tailed and monitored constantly. But she wasn’t the true source of my problems, was she? My parents were. They were the ones who hired her. They insisted on this arrangement. She was probably just trying to make some coin and keep a steady job.

And she had the poor luck to be assigned to me. Lasted less than two days before I eviscerated her with my words, gathering all my frustration and anger to strike out without thinking.

I’d thought I hated her. But I didn’t. Not really.

Remembering the way I’d spoken to her the other night, I winced. What could I possibly do after that? If Maerryl didn’t hate me before, she certainly did now.

16

MAERRYL

Goddess, what a piece of work. Dove sat primly in her saddle ahead of me, leading the way home. She’d barely looked at me since the other night—not that I’d given her much opportunity, granted—and now she was asking about my morning with that passive-aggressive hint of reproach. As if I’d been shirking my duties or off making out with a kitchen maid or something.

Well, she would kind of be right…

Not about the midmorning dalliance. But I wasn’t in the kitchens. And I was shirking my “duties” to do something else.

She didn’t need me there with her anyway. No one would be attacking her in the priory, and I wasn’t hired to be a child minder. Orinno was there to help—I’d bet my left thumb that Prioress the Elder had asked him to assist Dove so that I’d have the chance to slip off to the infirmary and visit Balfie for a bit. He and his cot were neat and clean, as always, but I spent some time trimming his fingernails, refreshing the flowers by his bedside table, and then talking and reading aloud to him until it was time to go. My brother needed to hear my voice, to know I was still there even if I couldn’t visit as much as I should. I’d had more important responsibilities to tend to than standing guard over a prissy, spoiled, ridiculous brat of a woman.

The memory of her in the dark gardens the other night rose in my mind again, as it had dozens of times. The harsh bite in her voice. “I hate you, Maerryl Kirim.” The flash of regret in her eyes, gone so quickly I’d probably imagined it. The imperious sweep of her hair as she turned away from me.

That’s fine. Perfectly fucking fine. Because I hate you too, Dovenesdrea Wistrallo. And you are going to wish you were nicer to me when you’re on the streets begging for spare change.

I was so deep in my daydreams of Dove asking for my forgiveness that I didn’t hear the rustle in the trees to our left until a beat too late. An arrow whistled through the air, missing Dove but startling Lightning into a frightened whinny. He bucked, forelegs high in the air, and she screamed, clutching to stay on. My head whipped around, searching for the arrow’s source. From the shadows of the trees on our left, I spotted a large bald head, skin as green as the leaves around.

Stiv. One of Zephyra’s men. What was he doing here?

Stepping closer to the tree line, he caught my eye and winked. Then he readied another arrow and stalked onto the path toward Dove and her panicked horse.

Oh no. No no no, what was going on?? Had the Takers guildmaster sent him to kidnap Dove? Or worse? But why would they leave me out of the loop?

Stiv shot another arrow past Lightning’s face. The horse, terrified now, bucked again. I cried out as Dove was thrown from the saddle, falling to the dirt road with a worrying thud as I urged my own horse forward with my heels, drawing a dagger in each hand. Stiv might be a member of my guild, acting on my terrifying boss’s orders, but he wasn’t going to hurt Dove without an explanation. I threw a small dagger just past his shoulder as a warning shot and leapt down from my horse in a fury.

“Stop now, thief, and I’ll let you live!” I bellowed for Dove’s benefit. She stirred in the road, thank the goddess, propping herself on one arm. Grabbing Stiv’s tunic in my free fist, I held the other dagger up to his neck in a dramatic display, pulling him closer. In a fierce whisper under my breath, I asked, “What are you doing here? This is my mission. I’m handling things.”

He grinned back, a hard glint in his eye. “Not enough for Z’s liking. Our birds say the mark doesn’t trust you yet. Doesn’t even like you. I’m here to help move things along.”

With that, Stiv pushed me away, breaking my hold. I glanced back at Dove. She seemed to be okay, sitting in the middle of the road looking terrified. Suddenly, her eyes widened. She pointed behind me, shouting, “Maerryl, look out!”

I turned back to Stiv, who had drawn a curved, menacing blade. He came at me, fast, and I dodged to the left at the last moment. A slash across my collarbone, and then the pain hit. He’d caught a piece of me. The blood flowed quickly, soaking my undershirt, but I tried to ignore it. I could hear Dove shriek in the background as if from a long distance away.

Right. Enough of this. I didn’t know what the orc’s orders were, or how far he was allowed to take this. Fear shot through my veins, and I clutched my knives tighter to ground myself. I couldn’t let anything serious happen to me—the mage who had bound Balfie and my life forces together to keep him from succumbing to dwarfdrop had made it clear that if I died… my brother died too. There was no room to risk this fight escalating—my brother had to live. Period. Full stop. So I had to end this now.

Gripping a knife in each hand, I darted toward Stiv, slicing my blades in a quick flurry. He managed to block the first few strikes, but my left dagger snaked in and stabbed his upper arm. I kept my blow shallow, hopefully avoiding any major bloodlines. I can’t imagine Zephyra would be too happy if I sent one of her favorites back to her severely injured, or worse.

But I needn’t have worried. Stiv shook off my knife and roared, so loud I wasn’t entirely sure he was playacting anymore either. He took advantage of my pause to place a swift, solid punch to my stomach. I stumbled back, focusing on the grip of my worn dagger handles and the sound of his laugh ringing in the air around us.

Taking another step back, making sure to keep myself between him and Dove, I threw one of my blades faster than a blink. It landed securely in his shoulder, wedged deep. His laugh cut off—and then a bellow of pain replaced it. Dove squeaked in fear behind me.