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Bendrik shuddered and gasped, slumping into my arms. Then he must have seen the water, and how it had turned scarlet. He froze.
I shuddered my own relieved sigh and whispered, “With every beat of your heart, you die a little more.”
He shoved against my chest. I lurched back and smiled at my handiwork. Bloodred water swirled. His forearms were painted in red. Disbelieving his own eyes, he raised his arms from the water. Blood streamed back into the pool.
“What have you done?”
I backed toward the pool’s steps, and chuckled. “Everyone makes the same mistake.”
“You… You… Help!” he cried. “Someone, help me!”
He swept forward, washing a wave ahead of him, but lost his footing and slipped under the surface. The red water sloshed.
Nobody would hear him. That was the purpose of this room. People died here. I’d have died here. But not anymore. Benny would be the last.
He thrashed back to the surface, locked in panic’s clutches, got his feet under him, and sprang backward, away from me, and clung to the pool’s edge, fixing me in his terrified sights.
I backed up the steps—never taking my eyes off him—and sat on the last step. “Everyone assumes my brother is the worst of us.” I poked the knife against my finger, then pointed its tip at him. His skin had turned blue, and he shivered, despite the heat. It wouldn’t be long now. “Razak kept me leashed for a reason. What he fears, so should you.”
His mouth opened and closed, but no words came.
The pool had turned a deep red, the air rich with the smell of blood, like spilled wet coins in the rain.Wet coins on a street corner, a fiddle tossed aside, a stranger’s hands burning up my skin.
Benny tried to fight, but all remnants of life snuffed out of his eyes, and his grip slipped. He bobbed into the water, floating face up, eyes open, both forearms gaping.
The chamber was silent once more.
I left the pool and grabbed a towel from a nearby rack, then Bendrik’s shirt from over a chair. I threw it on and buttoned it up as I left the dungeon for his bedchamber. There, I found boots, fresh trousers, and a handsome brown jacket that suited me just fine. I searched his dresser drawers, discovered some tape, and fixed the stolen knife to the small of my back.
His flat cap lay on the bed, tossed there prior to visiting me.
The reflection in the mirror didn’t know who I was as I passed by. Not Razak, not Zayan, not Lark. I ruffled my hair, donned the flat cap, and buttoned up the jacket. With my hands in the pockets, my head down, cap hiding my face, I’d pass for Bendrik at a glance.
Another lie, another disguise. It didn’t matter. I was nobody.
In stories, kings and queens lost their heads.
All I had to do was cut the head off this beast to bring it down.
And the next head in the Court of Pain belonged to Malvina.
CHAPTER23
Arin
As a child,I’d been too young to explore my local town without an escort, and after Lark’s arrival, I’d locked myself away. But I was here now, albeit far too late.
At least not all life had vanished. Some cottage windows were lit from within, including the Overlook’s. I pushed through its heavy door into a warm, welcoming bar area. Two other customers hunched at tables. A huge fireplace crackled and spat, and the innkeeper with a ragged head of salt and pepper hair matching his beard flitted behind the main bar. I paid for several nights’ stay, a bath, and food, tipping the man generously with Lark’s gold coins. These people needed the coin more than I.
After a bath, shave, and food in my belly, I settled at the bar, feeling more like myself than I had in weeks, and waited for Draven.
“Where you from?” the innkeeper asked, rubbing a cloth around a tankard to dry it.
“Oh, here. I lived here. Before…”
“Before,” he grunted, no need to elaborate. “Well, I appreciate the custom. Don’t know how much longer we can carry on. As you can see, there ain’t much custom left. Supplies don’t arrive. Folks assume we’ve already closed.”
I tried to smile, but smiles didn’t come easy anymore. Not with guilt weighing on my back. “It will get better.”
