“Yes.”
“Pull the weed and all its roots so it doesn’t grow back?”
The Commander smiled. “Exactly. Take as many soldiers as you need.”
“All right, but I’ll leave Ari in charge of security.”
“Are you worried I’ll be targeted again?”
“No. I’m concerned our security forces will revert back to their old ways while I’m gone. Ari will ensure the castle guards and your detail follow the new procedures I’ve implemented.”
“And save yourself some work.”
“Exactly.”
“When do you plan to leave?” the Commander asked.
“I’ll need time to organize my people, brief them and collect supplies. I expect small teams to leave the complex after sunset. Better to travel at night just in case anyone’s watching the castle for unusual activity.”
“Keep me updated if possible.”
“Yes, sir.” Valek finished his drink and left.
He crossed the hall to his apartment. Margg had lit the lanterns in his living room. And even though a warm yellow glow coated the furniture, his piles of books and his heaps of carving rocks, an emptiness hung in the air. The challenge and thrill of the hunt had dulled somewhat. Valek paused at the door to Yelena’s old bedroom. Maybe if he wished hard enough, she’d appear in the threshold. And probably admonish him for being so maudlin. At least with shutting down the smuggling operation, he’d have an excuse to travel to Sitia and see her.
Before going to bed, he sat at his desk and wrote a list of people for the mission. Then he outlined a few ideas on how to optimize their strike, using the three key ingredients for success—surprise, speed and intensity.
Valek glanced at his collection of weapons hanging on the wall. His favorite knife hung in the center. Those three elements had been vital in assassinating the King.
That night remained crystal clear in his memories. Once he was in position—wedged between the ceiling and wooden rafters of the Queen’s receiving room—Valek waited. It wasn’t long before the King arrived with his six guards. When the King entered her bedroom, Valek would have mere seconds to disable the guards before the King realized the Queen had been poisoned.
The guards fanned out. Two by the Queen’s bedroom, two near the entrance and two by the windows. Valek pressed his blowpipe to his lips. His left hand clutched the other darts. He had a clear shot at four of the guards. The ones by the window would be harder.
As soon as the Queen’s bedroom door clicked shut, he targeted the guards by the entrance, hitting them in their throats. Then he hit the two by the door. The guy on the left swatted at his neck as if he’d been bitten.
“What the...?” The first guard held a dart between his finger and thumb, showing it to his partner.
The gig was up. Valek dropped to the ground and spun. He threw his last two darts at the men by the window.
“Hey!” one of them yelled, pointing to Valek.
The others drew their swords and advanced. Valek stood in the middle of a tightening circle, hoping the sleeping potion would kick in before they skewered him.
The King rushed into the room, his face ashen. “Help me! The Queen is...” He stopped, taking in the situation.
The guards paused. “Orders, my lord?”
“Did you kill my Queen?”
“Yes,” Valek said.
“Kill him,” the King ordered.
Only one tactic worked when encircled. Valek lunged at the weakest point—the first man he’d hit. The blasted potion finally started to affect the big brute. Valek knocked him down and grabbed the man’s sword.
Deflecting the other blades, Valek remained on the defensive while he waited for them to be overcome. The King urged them on. Valek ducked and dodged, earning more than a few cuts before they all collapsed to the ground.
“Are they all dead, too?” the King asked in an icy monotone.
“No. They don’t deserve to die.” Valek wiped blood from his eyes. A cut on his forehead stung.
“And I deserve to die? You’re not the first to think this, nor will you be the last. Who sent you? That young brat from the diamond mines?”
“You sent me.” Keeping a firm grip on the sword, Valek stepped over one of the fallen guards.
He laughed. It was a harsh sound. “In that case, you’re fired.”
“Nice try, but you set me on this path. You are responsible for your own death.” He moved closer.
“I’m sure you have a sob story, but I don’t care. And unless you’re a master-level magician, you soon won’t care, either. Death has a way of eliminating all your problems just like that.” The King snapped his fingers.
A bubble of stickiness enveloped Valek. It pressed on his face as if trying to suffocate him. Probably was—the King was known to strangle his enemies with his power because he didn’t wish to get his hands dirty. Valek pushed through the magic, advancing on the King.
The King of Ixia frowned. The air around Valek turned to sludge. Drawing a breath took effort; stepping forward was like wading through thick syrup. It was difficult to move, but not impossible. Two more strides and the King would be within striking distance of his sword.
The first gleam of fear shone in the King’s eyes as he bent to retrieve a sword from one of his men. If the King had any skills with the weapon, Valek might be in trouble. Hard enough to walk through the magical mire... He couldn’t imagine fighting in it.
Another push forward and Valek reached the strike zone. The King of Ixia slid into a defensive position and raised his sword. Not good. However, Valek would not let this man walk away from this fight. As he had said to Hedda five years ago, if his last breath was one second after the King’s he’d die a happy man.
Determined, Valek summoned all his energy and attacked. The King blocked and they launched into a back-and-forth exchange of strikes and blocks. The thin metal rapiers sang with the contact. The monarch knew how to handle a blade and Valek had trained with mostly thicker, heavier swords, which required more muscle than speed. Valek’s parries went too wide, leaving his middle exposed. Plus the sticky air dragged at his arms and legs.
The King of Ixia took full advantage of Valek’s clunky style. With a flick of his wrist, the tip of his blade snaked past Valek’s defenses and cut a path up Valek’s right arm. Sharp pain registered for a moment, but he was too busy dodging the King’s next lunge to dwell on it. More cuts followed. Blood soaked his sleeves.
Then Valek miscalculated a strike and parried too late. The tip of the King’s blade pierced his flesh near his left hip. Valek gasped as his body jerked. It felt as if he’d run full speed into the edge of a desk. Shock waves rippled through him, sending a cold skittery pulse to his extremities.
The King smirked as he drew back. “You have enough magic to counter mine. It’s a shame the same can’t be said for your fighting skills. Is there anything you’d like to confess before I kill you? I hear it can be quite...cathartic.”
There was no way in hell this corrupt son of a bitch would live to see daylight. Valek envisioned his brothers. Imagining their ghosts standing here watching the fight, he drew strength from them and, it seemed, also advice. Vincent bared his teeth and made a stabbing motion. Valek returned his attention to the task at hand. The pain faded as he focused on what he’d worked so hard for.
“I do have a confession,” Valek said. “I’m not a magician. I’m an assassin.” Valek threw the sword down and pulled his knives—one for each hand. “I just forgot for a moment.”
He surprised a laugh from the King. Then Valek attacked, and the King was no longer smiling. Even with magic pressing down on him, he kept a quick pace, forcing the King to backpedal. The man doggedly blocked the knives.
As the fight continued, sweat ran down the King’s face as his responses
slowed. Using magic appeared to be as draining as resisting it. The heaviness around Valek disappeared at the same time the King launched an energetic counteroffensive. The man was smart to concentrate his strength on his sword. Too bad for him that Valek’s knife-fighting skills had been honed by five years of practice.
Without the presence of magic to slow him down, Valek disarmed the King within a few moves. Valek pushed him against the wall, pressing the edge of one blade on the King’s neck, and the other blade poked into his royal stomach just below the breastbone.
Panic reddened the King’s face. “I can pay you ten times what your client offered.”
“Not interested.”
“I’ll make you a general.”
“No.”
“My daughter! You can marry her and become a prince.”
“Aren’t you a swell dad. Sorry, but I’ve met your brat of a daughter. That would be worse than death.”
“I’ll give you anything.”
“Good. After you die, I want you to explain to my three brothers why your soldiers murdered them in your name.” Valek stabbed his knife up into the King’s heart.
The King’s magic exploded, propelling Valek back. The King of Ixia stumbled forward clutching the hilt of the knife. He gasped, “My blood...will...stain...your hands...forever.” And collapsed.
Valek knelt next to the King and watched the life fade from his gaze. He listened for that last shuddering breath. And once the man died, Valek endured a tumult of emotions. Joy, relief and satisfaction spun around his racing heart. The euphoria rushed to his head. He sat back on his heels, overcome for a moment.
Now he could live his life. If he lived through the takeover, he’d be able to serve the Commander and purge Ixia of the King’s rot.
But first, he needed to finish the job and eradicate the roots. Valek stood. All the aches and pains from the fight flared to life, demanding attention. He inspected the stab wound near his left hip bone. Blood oozed from the puncture. It hurt like crazy. At least it wasn’t gushing and he could still move.
Focusing on the positive, he climbed out the window. Not much time left for him to visit the King’s two children, three nephews, one sister-in-law and one brother before the King’s corpse was discovered. While Valek had enjoyed thrusting his knife into the King’s heart, he didn’t relish this task.
He spidered from one royal’s window to the next, easing the panes open and ghosting through bedrooms. Using the same poison he’d fed to Queen Jewel, Valek dripped five drops of My Love into their mouths, or their noses if they slept with their lips clamped shut. If they startled awake, he held his hand over their mouths for a few seconds. The fast-acting poison did the rest.
By the time he finished, the noises from the hallways had increased to panic levels with doors slamming, boots pounding and screams mixing with shouts of alarm. Despite exhaustion settling into all his muscles, Valek slipped out the prince’s window and returned to his rooms. The outer door gaped open. Someone had searched them, and his skirts and few possessions were strewn on the floor. He secured the door.
Valek debated changing into Valma’s nightgown to continue the ruse, but by this point either the Commander’s forces would be successful or not, and in both cases Valma was no longer needed.
Instead, he peeled his blood-soaked sneak suit from his battered body, wincing as the dried patches ripped from his skin and the silky material tugged at the deeper cuts on his arms. He sponged off the gore. Red and purple bruises bloomed around the stab wound in his hip. He’d deal with that later.
Donning a pair of pants, Valek locked the bedroom door and collapsed into bed.
He slept for... He had no idea how long. But way too soon, a loud crash jolted him from oblivion. In a blink of two very bleary eyes, four big, well-armed goons surrounded his bed. Cuts, bruises, blood spatters, disheveled hair and ripped tunics all evidence these men had been in a fight. But whose side?
“Is this him?” Bruiser One asked Bruiser Two.
“Yup.”
“Grab him,” Bruiser One ordered the others.
Too tired to resist, Valek allowed them to haul him from the bed. But once he was on his feet, he yanked his arms from Bruiser Three and Bruiser Four. “No need to carry me.” He spread his hands. “I’m unarmed.”
Bruiser One studied him. “Are you sure this is the guy who assassinated the King and his family? He looks—”
“Hold that insult,” Valek interrupted. “If you value your life.”
The man snorted.
“Come on. We’re to report back to the throne room,” Bruiser Two said.
They peered at Valek. He longed to return to his bed, but their postures said they weren’t leaving without him. “Who are you reporting to?”
“The Commander.”
Good news. “Then give me a minute to change.”
After Valek dressed, the four bruisers escorted him to the throne room. He mulled over reasons why they acted as if he were the enemy. They could be recent recruits who had once been loyal to the King’s family. While many citizens of Ixia hated the King, they wouldn’t automatically be supporters of the Commander. He’d have to win their trust and loyalty. And Valek would be required to do the same with the soldiers. The idea would be more palatable once he was fully rested.
The throne room buzzed with activity. Servants ripped the tapestries from the walls, tearing the fabric with knives. Groups of guards herded prisoners toward the Commander, who sat on the throne—a large garish chair made from gold. The overstuffed white cushion was reportedly sewn from snow-cat hide. Ambrose talked to the captives. When he finished, most of them knelt on one knee—probably swearing loyalty, while the others were taken away.
Valek approached with the bruisers by his side. The Commander’s gaze flashed with joy. Giddy with his triumph, Ambrose jumped to his feet and hugged Valek for the first and only time.
“Well done, my boy. Well done.” He thumped Valek on the back. “Where have you been?”
“He was sleeping,” Bruiser Two said.
“How can you sleep? You should be celebrating. The takeover was a complete success!”
“He’s pretty beat up,” Bruiser One said.
“Did that bastard put up a fight?” Ambrose asked.
Valek glanced at his bruiser buddies. “What? No answer this time?”
They stared back.
“It was an intense match, sir. I’ll give you a full report later,” Valek said.
“Good idea. In the meantime, I have something for you.” The Commander gestured to one of his advisers.
The woman picked up a silver platter with a cover. Odd. She presented it to the Commander. He removed the lid with a flourish, revealing Valek’s favorite knife. Bright red blood coated the blade.
“We found it in the King’s chest. I believe it is yours.”
“Guess I need to clean it.” Valek reached for the weapon.
“Won’t work,” Ambrose said.
“Excuse me?”
The Commander grabbed the cloth hanging over the woman’s arm. He picked up the knife and wiped the blade on the material. The blood clung to the metal. Not a drop stained the towel.
“I’m guessing it’s magic.” Ambrose handed the knife to Valek.
He ran a finger along the flat side. The blood avoided his skin, parting as he skimmed over the blade and re-pooling after his finger had passed. A stickiness pulsed from the weapon.
Valek laughed. “He cursed me with his dying breath. Said my hands would always be stained with his blood. Seems the curse attached to my knife instead.” He tsked. “Such a shame. It was my favorite. What should I do with it now?”
“Put it on display in your office. So everyone who walks through those doors knows you are the King Killer.”
And twenty-three years later, the King’s blood still glistened in the lamplight.
* * *
Valek rushed around the next morning, organizing his teams for the mission, assembling supplies and explaining to Ari for the fourth time why Valek was leaving him behind.
“I know where the wagons disappeared in the foothills and where the factory is located,” Ari said. “You’ll need me.”
“I need you here. And you can debrief Janco and Onora when they return.”
“Then can we both catch up?” Ari asked in a hopeful tone.
“Not unless I send for you.” Valek put a hand on Ari’s shoulder when the big man’s expression creased. “Ari, the castle’s security has been lax, and I’m worried we still have gaps. Hedda trained Onora, but she could have trained more. I need you here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Valek watched his friend and hoped Janco returned soon. Ari wasn’t quite Ari without his partner.
On his way back from visiting the stable, one of the gate’s guards rushed up to Valek.
“Sir! There’s—”
“I don’t have time to deal with another messenger.” Valek kept walking.
“It’s not a messenger, sir.”
He paused. “What, then?”
“It’s...well...it’s Kiki, sir. She’s at the gate.”
Did he hear that right? “Yelena’s horse is at the gate?”
“Yes, sir. She is. And she brought...er...friends, sir.”
28
JANCO
Janco watched Maren as she talked and drank Ixian white brandy with the smugglers in the warehouse. His colleague and friend appeared to be at ease with the others. She wore Sitian clothes and her long blond hair had been pulled back into a braid.
Maren’s mystery mission for the Commander was no longer quite a mystery. Janco scratched at the scar below his ear. If Maren was working undercover in the smuggling operation, then why didn’t the Commander inform the rest of them? Finding and stopping this gang had been their priority, so why the secrecy about Maren? He wished Ari was here. His partner would have an answer.