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Godsdamn it, this was a trap.
Chapter 16
The back of my neck prickled. I turned my head slightly to the left, seeing two pairs of legs in dark breeches by the door. I should’ve known better than to blindly rush into any room, even in Wayfair.
Hadn’t I learned that lesson a time or a dozen over the last three years?
“I didn’t have a choice,” the servant whispered. “Truly, I—”
“That’s enough,” a male voice snapped, and the servant immediately fell quiet.
His voice had come from my right. Either the one I saw by the door had moved, or there were two in the room. Irritation buzzed through my veins as I slipped my right hand into my boot. I was not having a very good day, and that really sucked after such a wonderful few hours by the lake. The poor Coupers were dead. My arm still throbbed. Sir Holland would be annoyed because I was sure to miss training now, and the one nice skirt I had that didn’t make me want to tear it off was about to be ruined.
After all, I knew how this would end.
With me bloody.
And someone dead.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said, rising slowly and unsheathing the knife from my boot. It was small enough that when I held it pressed to my palm with my thumb and kept my hand open, it appeared as if I held nothing. I looked slightly to my left again, and the pair of legs was still there. “You’ve heard some rumor. That I’m cursed. That if you kill me, you’ll end the Rot. That’s not how it works. Or, you’ve heard something about who I am and think you can use me to gain whatever it is you need. That’s not going to happen, either.”
“We aren’t thinking about anything,” the man to my left replied. “Other than about the coin that will fill our pockets. Enough not to ask questions.”
That was…different.
I shifted the knife slightly, turning the slender blade between my fingers. Killing is not something one should have little regard for. Ash was right. I forced myself to breathe in slowly and then hold it as I looked over my shoulder to my right once more in response to the whisper of steel being drawn. I saw black, and my stomach lurched. Black breeches. Well-muscled arms. A glimpse of purple brocade over a wide chest.
They were guards.
An unsettled skip came from my chest, but I couldn’t let it take hold. I shut down my thoughts and feelings and became the thing that had stood in Nor’s office. That empty, moldable creature. A blank canvas primed to become whatever the Primal of Death desired or be used in whatever way my mother saw fit. I sometimes wondered how the Primal would’ve painted me, but as the handle of the small knife now slipped between my fingers, I was still blank. Exhaling a long and slow breath, I turned to my right. But that wasn’t where I aimed. I cocked back my arm and let the knife fly.
I knew it struck true when I heard the ragged gasp, and the servant let out a startled cry. There was no time to see if Sir Holland’s blindfolded training had paid off as the other guard charged me, sword drawn.
He was young. Couldn’t be much older than I was, and I thought about the marks Ash had said every death left behind.
I kicked out, planting my booted foot in the center of the guard’s chest. My skirt slid over my leg as he stumbled back. Reaching down, I gave the room a quick scan as I unsheathed the iron blade. I’d been wrong about how many were in the room. There were three, and they were all young.
Well, probably only two in a few seconds.
Sir Holland would be disappointed.
My aim hadn’t been spot-on. The knife had caught the guard in the throat. Crimson streamed down his arms and darkened his tunic. He staggered forward, falling against the settee. The servant scrambled backward as the other guard rushed me.
He swept out with his sword, and I dipped under his arm, popping up directly in the path of the third guard. He jabbed out with a shorter blade. Cursing under my breath, I grasped the guard’s sword arm. I spun, dragging him along with me. Letting go, I slammed my elbow into his back. The act jarred the already sore bone and flesh, causing me to suck in a sharp breath as I pushed hard. The guard’s shout ended abruptly in a gasping breath.
I whirled around to see that his partner’s blade had impaled the guard.
“Shit,” the guard growled, shoving the other to the side. The man went down on one knee and then fell face forward, slamming into the low table. The vase of lilies crashed. Water spilled as delicate white petals hit the carpet.
