Poison Study (35 page)

  “No,” I said. “Not yet.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Probably, but I need to finish something first, then I’ll keep my promise and come to Sitia.”

  “If you’re still alive.”

  “Maybe you can help me. Is there some way I can shield my mind from magical influence?”

  Irys cocked her head. “You’re worried about Kangom?”

  “Very.”

  “I think so. You’re strong enough to handle it.” She handed me the bow. “Do one of your katas, eyes closed, and clear your mind.”

  I started a blocking bow kata.

  “Imagine one brick. Place the brick on the ground, and then make a row of them. Using imaginary mortar, build another row. Keep building until you have a wall as high as your head.”

  I did as she instructed, and heard a distinct tone as each brick was laid. A wall formed in my mind.

  “Stop,” she ordered. “Open your eyes.”

  My wall disappeared.

  “Now block me!”

  Loud music vibrated in my head, overwhelming me.

  “Imagine your wall,” Irys shouted.

  My brick defense flashed complete in my mind. The music stopped midnote.

  “Very good. I suggest you finish your business and escape south. With that kind of strength, if you don’t achieve complete control of your magic, someone else might grab it and use it, leaving you a mindless slave.” Annoyance quirked her face as she spun on her heel and left the training room.

  The moment the door clicked into place, Ari and Janco ended their conversation and blinked as if they had just woken from a deep sleep.

  “Done already? How many katas?” Ari asked.

  I laughed and put my bow away. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

  When the Sitian delegation left three days later, I had a sudden panic attack. What the hell was I doing? My one perfect opportunity for escape had slipped away to the south, while I remained behind, preparing to leave for Brazell’s manor. Irys had been right; I was crazy. My breath hitched every time I thought of the trip. The Commander’s retinue was scheduled to depart in the morning.

  I rushed around the castle, packing my own special provisions for the journey. Dilana’s sorrowful face greeted me when I stopped by her room for some traveling clothes. Rand’s paperwork had been finalized, she said. He was coming with us.

  “I requested a transfer, but I doubt it’ll be approved,” Dilana said as she searched through her piles of clothing. “If only the lout had married me, then we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

  “There’s still time to submit the application. If it’s approved, you can travel to MD-5 for the wedding.”

  “He doesn’t want to let anyone know how much he cares for me. He’s worried that my safety might be used as leverage against him.” She shook her head, refusing to be cheered even when I told her that the new trade treaty with Sitia would allow silk to be imported.

  The southern treaty was a simple exchange of goods. Specific items were listed. Only merchants with the proper permits and licenses would be able to buy and sell these items at a fixed price. All caravans would be subject to inspection when crossing the Ixian border at the approved locations. Rand’s cup of coffee was only a few months away, but I doubted he would brew some for me since I hadn’t spoken to him since our argument in the kitchen. I couldn’t get him more beans, and I couldn’t explain why.

  The morning of our departure was gray and overcast, hinting at snow. The cold season was beginning, which usually indicated the end of travel, not the onset of it. The snows would most likely keep the Commander’s retinue at Brazell’s until the thawing season. I shuddered at the thought.

  Valek stopped me before I left our suite. “This is a very dangerous trip for you. Maintain a low profile and keep your eyes open. Question thoughts in your mind; they might not be your own.” He handed me a silver flask. “The Commander has your daily dose of antidote, but if he forgets to give it to you, here’s a backup supply. Tell no one that you have it, and keep it hidden.”

  For the first time, Valek trusted me. The metal flask felt warm in my hands. “Thanks.”

  A feather of fear brushed my stomach as I packed the flask into my backpack. Another danger I hadn’t recognized. What else had I missed?

  “Wait, Yelena, there’s one more thing.” Valek’s manner and tone were strangely stiff and formal. “I want you to have this.” He extended his hand. On his palm sat the beautiful butterfly he had carved. Silver spots on the wings glinted in the sunlight, and a silver chain hung from a small hole drilled into its body.

  Valek looped the necklace around my neck. “When I carved this statue, I was thinking about you. Delicate in appearance, but with a strength unnoticed at first glance.” His eyes met mine.

  My chest felt tight. Valek acted as if he would never see me again. His fear for my safety seemed genuine. But was he worried about me or his precious food taster?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

  C ommander Ambrose’s traveling entourage consisted of nearly fifty soldiers from his elite guard. Some led the way, others walked beside the Commander and his advisers atop their horses. Guards also bracketed the small group of servants, who preceded the horses. The remaining soldiers followed behind. Ari and Janco scouted the Commander’s planned route and were hours ahead of the procession.

  We advanced at a brisk pace in the crisp morning air. The vivid colors of the hot season had long since drained from the forest, leaving behind a barren, gray-hued simplicity. I had tucked Valek’s butterfly underneath my shirt, and found myself fingering the lump it made on my chest as we traveled. Valek’s gift had caused my emotions to roil. Just when I believed I had figured him out, he surprised me.

  Carrying a pack, I also held a walking staff that was a thinly disguised bow. A few of the guards cast suspicious glances my way, but I ignored them. Rand refused to meet my gaze. He stared straight ahead in stony silence. It wasn’t long before he lagged behind; his leg prevented him from maintaining the pace.

  After a stop for lunch, we continued until an hour before sunset. Major Granten, the official leader of the expedition, wanted to set up camp in the daylight. Spacious tents were raised for the Commander and his advisers, and smaller two-man tents were erected for the servants. I found I would share space with a woman named Bria, who ran errands and served the Commander’s advisers.

  I settled into the tent while Bria warmed herself by the fire. Lighting a small lantern, I pulled out the book on war symbols that I had borrowed from Valek. After we had deciphered the name of the new successor, I hadn’t had a spare moment to interpret Janco’s message on my switchblade. There were six silver markings etched into the wooden handle. I began with the top and worked my way to the bottom. My smile grew wider with each translation. Janco could be so annoying, but underneath he could be so sweet.

  When Bria entered the tent smelling of wood smoke, I shoved the book into my pack.

  Disturbing dreams made for a restless night. I awoke tired in the gray fuzz of dawn. With the amount of time the procession took to eat and reassemble, plus the shorter hours of daylight, I estimated the excursion to Brazell’s manor house would take about five days.

  On the second night of the trip, I found a note in my tent. A request for a rendezvous. The next evening while the soldiers set up camp, I was to follow a small, northbound trail that intersected the main road just past our campsite. The message was signed Janco, in a lavish hand. I examined the signature in the fading light, trying to remember if I’d ever seen Janco’s writing.

  Genuine note or a trap? Should I go or should I stay in camp where it would be safe? I worried the question in my mind throughout the night and all through the third day on the road. What would Valek do in this particular situation? The answer helped me to form a plan.

  When the signal to stop for the night sounded, I waited until everyone was occupied before leaving the clearing. Once out of sight, I swept off my cloak and turned it inside out. Before departing the castle I had procured gray cloth from Dilana, which I had then sewn into the inside lining of my cloak just in case I needed to hide in the winter landscape. I hoped the improvised ashen camouflage would be adequate in concealing my presence when I neared the meeting site.

  I strapped my bow to my back, sheathed my switchblade on my right leg, then grabbed my rope and grappling hook from my backpack. I found the northern trail. Rather than walk down the narrow path, though, I sought a suitable tree and tossed my hook up into its branches. My first concern was the potential noise of my passage through the treetops, but I soon discovered that trees without leaves only creaked under my weight as I followed the trail.

  Maneuvering close to the meeting site, I spotted a tall dark-haired man waiting at the prearranged location. He seemed restless and agitated. Too thin for Janco, I thought. Then the man turned in my direction. Rand.

  What was he doing here? I circled the clearing. Discovering no threat lurking in the bushes, I climbed down to the path, leaving my rope hanging from the branch. I tucked my backpack behind the tree’s trunk.

  “Damn,” Rand cursed. “I thought you weren’t going to show.” His haggard face had dark smudges under his eyes.

  “And I thought Janco was supposed to be here.”

  “I wanted to explain, but there’s no time, Yelena.” Rand’s haunted eyes bored into mine. “It’s a trap! Run!”

  “How many? Where?” I demanded, pulling the bow from my back. I scanned the woods.

  “Star and two goons. Close. Leading you here was supposed to pay off my debt.” Tears streaked Rand’s face.

  I spun on him. “Well, you did a good job. I see you’re actually following through on this assignment.” I spat the words at him.

  “No,” he cried. “I can’t do it. Run, damn you, run.”

  Just as I moved to go, Rand’s eyes widened with fright.

  “No!” He shoved me aside. Something whistled past my ear as I fell to the ground. Rand dropped beside me, an arrow in his chest. Blood welled, soaking his white uniform shirt.

  “Run,” he whispered. “Run.”

  “No, Rand,” I said, brushing the dirt from his face. “I’m tired of running.”

  “Forgive me, please.” He clutched my hand as his eyes beseeched me through tears of pain.

  “You’re forgiven.”

  He sighed once, then stopped breathing. The shine in his brown eyes dulled. I pulled his hood over his head.

  “Get up,” a man’s voice ordered.

  I looked into the dangerous end of a loaded crossbow. Leaning on my bow, I rose. With my weight balanced on the balls of my feet, I rubbed my hands along the wooden staff, finding my zone of concentration.

  “The area is secured, Captain,” the man called out to the woods. “Don’t move,” he said to me, leveling his weapon at my chest.

  Footsteps approached. The man took his eyes off me to look for his companions. I moved.

  My first bow strike landed across his forearms. The crossbow sailed from his hands, firing into the woods. My second strike went to the back of his knees. I knocked his feet out from under him. Lying flat on his back, he blinked at me with a stunned expression.

  Before he could draw breath, I slammed the point of my bow straight down onto his neck, crushing his windpipe.

  A quick glance over my shoulder revealed Star and another man rushing into the clearing. Star shouted and pointed. Her goon drew his sword. I raced down the trail, his heavy footsteps thundering after me. When I reached my rope, I tossed my bow into the woods before scrambling up into the tree. The man’s blade stabbed at my legs. Cloth ripped as his sword cut through my pants. The brush of cool steel on my thigh spurred me on.

  He cursed as I leaped to the next tree. Moving fast, I swung through the treetops. When the sound of his crashing through the underbrush was far enough behind me, I found a good place to hide. Wrapping myself in my cloak, I hunkered down on a low branch and waited.

  Star’s thug barreled though the woods. Not far from my perch, he stopped to listen, searching the treetops. My heart raced. I muffled my heavy breathing with my cloak. Sword raised, he hunted for me.

  When he was below me, I threw off my cloak and launched myself, hitting his back with my feet. We fell hard. I rolled away and stood before he could recover, then kicked his sword from his hand. He was faster than I had anticipated. He grabbed my ankle, yanking me down.

  Next thing I knew, his weight pressed on top of me and his hands were wrapped around my neck. Banging my head on the hard ground, he muttered, “That’s for giving me trouble.” Then he pressed his thumbs deep into my throat.

  Dazed and choking, I plucked at his arms before I remembered my switchblade. I fumbled in my pockets as my vision blurred, turning to snow. The smooth feel of wood greeted my fingertips. I grasped the handle, pulled it out and triggered the button.

  The snick of the blade caused fear to flicker in his eyes. For a moment he stared straight into my essence. Then I plunged the knife into his stomach. With a low growl, he increased the pressure on my neck. Blood, hot and sticky, ran down my arms, soaking my shirt. Through dizziness and pain, I jerked the weapon out and tried again. This time, I pointed the tip of the blade up toward his heart. The man hunched forward, driving the knife in farther, and finally collapsed.