CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Between Arissen

It’s life and death.

Even after the copper-haired Lady had left with the Eminence’s partner, her words still rang in Melín’s ears. Whoever that Lady was, she’d waited almost two hours to deliver her message. Life and death.

What did she know?

One thing was certain: something bad was coming. Something that could kill her, too, if she wasn’t ready. She kept her eyes on the rotunda where the Lady had vanished.

Thud.

Behind her.

Melín whipped around.

Farther down toward the end of the hall, First Karyas stumbled backward across the corridor. She wheezed as if she’d just been winded—punched, maybe, by someone behind the Imbati access curtain?

Karyas swung her arm back so she wouldn’t hit the wall. A bulge showed there, under her arm.

Plis’ balls, that was her blade!

The blade—Karyas—her threats—Treminindi—life and death—!

Melín charged down the hall.

She lowered her shoulder and drove it into Karyas’ ribs, slamming her into the wall. Karyas slid to the floor. Melín grabbed for her jacket and tore it open; two buttons flew off and pinged against the stone. Yes, there was her blade in its scabbard—the strap was buckled around the First’s shoulder. Melín raced to unbuckle it, then grabbed the blade, scabbard and all.

Down the hall came a high, terrified yelp.

Melín looked up. A dark-haired Grobal boy in green and black stood staring at her, seemingly paralyzed with fear.

Karyas came to life. She surged up, snarling in Melín’s face, and shoved her backward. No way to stop—Melín kept her grip on her blade, rolled legs-over-shoulder onto her feet, but Karyas was still coming too fast. She lost balance and landed on her back. Karyas came at her neck with both hands. Melín twisted sideways, whipping the scabbard strap into Karyas’ face, and scrambled away toward the boy—or where the boy had been a second earlier. There was no sign of him now. She shifted the blade, trying to free her stronger hand.

Karyas tackled her in the small of the back.

Melín fell. Her hands hit the ground and the blade shot out of its scabbard. Karyas grabbed her by the helmet and yanked her head back.

Sirin help me, she’s going to slit my throat . . .

Cold pain, under her left ear.

Karyas whispered, “I knew you were soft, you little—”

“Arissen Karyas!” a high, imperious voice commanded. “Release her!”

Karyas’ grip loosened slightly.

“Do it now! Or my servant will make you. Yoral?”

“Ready, Mistress.” An Imbati’s threatening voice.

Karyas growled and let go. Melín scrambled to her feet and backed sideways, looking for her blade in Karyas’ hand. No; that was Karyas’ dueling knife.

Where was the blade?

It wasn’t in Karyas’ hand. It wasn’t under her coat. It wasn’t anywhere on the floor.

Where was it?

Melín had no choice but to look at her rescuer. It was the copper-haired Grobal Lady who had been begging to speak to the Eminence’s partner. Her black-suited manservant was over fifty, but his arm was cocked to throw one of the eyeball-sized metal rounders that Imbati used for ranged attacks. You could count on him to take out your eye if he decided to hit it—and Karyas quite obviously knew that.

Melín took three steps toward the Lady, to get more distance between her and Karyas. “Lady,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Both of you are now off duty,” the Lady said. “Leave the Residence immediately.”

“Lady Della,” First Karyas objected, “this guard was—”

“Enough!” Lady Della snapped. “Do you think I don’t know you, Karyas? Leave, now.” She called over her shoulder toward the rotunda. “Arissen! I’m sure the Eminence would like to see a guard on this door.”

Here was some good luck, actually—one of the two men who left the complement at the Eminence’s chamber door was Gul, a reliable First she’d seen fighting against one of her own eight yesterday. Which meant his loyalty to the Eminence was not in question.

“Thank you, Lady,” Gul said, while his companion moved to the door of the dining room. “First Karyas, Eighth Melín, follow your orders. I’ll be reporting both of you to the Commander for this.”

Between Gul, his companion, and the Imbati, that should be enough to make Karyas obey. Still, Melín held her breath.

“Yes, Lady,” said Karyas.

“Yes, Lady. Yes, sir,” said Melín. She waited only long enough to see Karyas commit to the rotunda stairway, then ran for the other spiral stairway near the end of the hall. She took the spiral fast, bolting through the nearest outer door as fast as she could and cutting at an angle across the gardens, so Karyas had no chance of finding or following her.

Lady Della showing up really had been a matter of life and death.

Her whole body felt numb with shock.

Check yourself. If she’d been injured, she wouldn’t necessarily know.

She shook her hands, bent her knees, swung her arms. Last, she rubbed her hand down from her left ear and across her neck. Swallowed hard. Looked into her palm.

The faintest streak of wet.

That was way too close.