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“It’s stuck!” she sobbed. “It won’t open!”
“Break it!”
The woman didn’t move, but the boy picked up a wooden box and threw it, the glass shattering and fresh air rushing in.
But it would only buy them minutes.
The Valcottan scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand as he fought, face wet with tears, and Keris saw an opening in his guard. Then another.
Attack!He swore he heard Otis’s voice in his head.Kill him!
“No!” he snarled back, refusing to consider it.
The patrols would be here soon. The Valcottans would retreat. All he had to do was hold off until then.
But smoke rose between the floorboards, the growing heat having nothing to do with exertion.
They were running out of time.
The Valcottan attacked again in earnest, Keris’s injured arm starting to give, but he managed to parry blow after blow, staying on the defense. And when the Valcottan stumbled and Keris saw an opening, he swung his fist.
His knuckles stung as they collided with the man’s temple, sending him falling back. But the Valcottan didn’t drop his weapon.
“They’re retreating!” the boy shouted from his position by the window. “They’re running away.”
And Maridrinian horns were blowing.
“If you run, you might escape,” he said to the man through coughs. “Go.”
The man spit, the glob steaming as it hit the overheated floor. “This is vengeance, you Maridrinian rat. An eye for an eye for the innocent lives you took.”
Otis’s raid. The one Keris and Valcotta had instigated.
Then the Valcottan lunged, blade directed at the boy. Keris didn’t remember moving, but found himself between the two. Everything seemed to happen very slowly and all at once as the tip of his blade punched through the man’s leather armor, sliding between his ribs.
The Valcottan stared at Keris, eyes wide with shock, then slowly, he dropped to the ground.
Dead. He’s dead.
I killed him.
It felt like he was watching the scene from a distance. As though watching someone else entirely, hearing someone else cough, feeling someone else’s pain. Then the sound of someone shouting his name snapped him back into the moment.
“Keris!”
Otis’s voice echoed over the roar of flames and cracking timber.
“Keris, you need to get out! It’s going to collapse!”
“Shit!” Retrieving his coat from the ground, Keris used it to smash the rest of the glass out of the frame, the heat seeping through his boots painful. Leaning out, he saw Otis below him, face smeared with blood, but alive.
Lifting the boy, Keris told him, “Be brave,” then tossed him away from the flames licking the sides of the building, Otis catching him easily. Beyond, the patrol burst into sight on galloping horses, but Keris paid them no mind, his attention on the girl.
“I’m too scared,” she wept as he balanced her on the sill. “It’s too far down.”
“It’s not that far. And if you do it, you’ll be able to tell all your friends you were rescued by Prince Otis Veliant.”
The girl turned to gape at him, then her face grew determined, and she jumped.
