Red Rope of Fate (16 page)

The grandmother inhaled
and licked her cracked lips before replying. “Beggin’ your pardon my lady, no. My husband and son do.”

The granddaughter blinked, her mouth hanging open as she hinged her eyes on Tari.

“They are well made,” Tari said, wistfully running her hand across a row of miniature roses.

“Do you want one?” Arion asked.

“What? Oh no, I can’t,” Tari said, taking a step back from the stall, dropping her empty basket in the process.

Arion was already reaching into a pouch belted to his side. “Which one?” he asked, coins clinking in his hand.

“No, no. I could not possibly let you buy one for me. I should get it myself—,”

“You don’t have any human currency,
do you?”

Tari
avoided Arion’s eyes.

Arion took
a step closer to Tari and reached out to take her hand in his gloved one. He squeezed it once, making Tari look up at him.

She knew she was a goner when she met his
dark gaze.

“Which one?” Arion simply asked.

Tari shyly reached for a hair pin of three budding chrysanthemums clustered together. They were soft pink, matching the soft blonde color of Tari’s hair.

Arion handed the money to the grandmother, who shook her head and said something in reply.

Generally Tari could understand human better when she was with Arion, but she was too captivated by her new hair ornament and Arion’s hand holding hers that she didn’t give the snippets of conversation much thought.

She was holding her new hair pin up to the sunlight w
hen the grandmother laughed and finally took the coins.

Tari smiled at the grandmother and granddaughter, making the granddaughter drop the basket she was holding. “Thank you,” Tari said, holding up the flower stick before bending to reclaim her basket when Arion released her hand.

“Here, I’ll wrap it for you,” the granddaughter said in a rush of words, holding out a piece of cloth so thin it was nearly sheer.

Tari relinquished the flower stick, which the girl neatly and efficiently wrapped
before passing it back to Tari with a clumsy curtsey.

Tari took the small package and slipped it in her basket
before gravely returning the curtsey, making the little girl beam.

As Tari and Arion strolled away Arion asked, “Whatever did you bring that basket for if you haven’t any money on you?”

“Evlawyn heard it is essential to take a basket to a human market in order to properly enjoy it,” Tari reported. “She was right.”

Arion exhaled deeply. “Just when I think you elves are all guile you show off your innocent nature.”

“You enjoy it and you know it,” Tari teased.

Arion shook his head, minutely amused, and made
a hand gesture at four of the Honor Guards, redirecting them.

“Arion,” Tari said, reaching out to momentarily touch Arion’s arm, causing the captain to look at her. “Thank
you,” Tari said with a pink blush. She squeezed his arm and leaned against it for a moment before moving on.

Tari spent most of the afternoon in the city with Captain Arion, observing the Honor Guards as they patrolled the area. They finished and started the journey back to the palace shortly before dusk. The Honor Guards were already gone—dismissed by Arion so they could make it to the mess hall for dinner.

“That was an amusing afternoon,” Tari said as she and Arion wound their way up the lane that would lead to the palace gates. “But I have been wondering…What prompted the city patrol? Grygg’s patrol shift is in the morning. Why use him and his men for the afternoon?”

Arion shrugged. “You are unavailable in the mornings due to practice with Seer Ringali, and Grygg’s patrol is one of the best under my command. If I were to take you into the city I wanted it to be with a competent squad.”

Tari smiled at the admission as the golden gate that opened into the palace grounds twinkled into view
when they turned a corner. “Thank you. I am very glad we went.”

Arion nodded as they drew closer to the gates. He paused, his hand on the hilt of his sword when distant shouts echoed behind them. He g
lanced over his shoulder and jabbed a finger at Tari. “I’m going to check it out. Go to the gates, stand there, and
wait
there until I come back. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Tari watched Arion jog back in the direction they had just come from before she finished climbing the hill to the gold gates.

There were fo
ur soldiers posted—two on either side of the shut gates. The two on the palace side slipped through a side door into the city as the remaining two guards shifted, unsheathing their weapons.

“Oh, I
am not coming through. Waiting,” Tari awkwardly said in human as she set her basket down.

“We know,”
a guard said, extending his sword so the tip was aimed at Tari’s throat.

Tari stupidly stared for a moment before twisting around—intending to run away.

“Not so fast!” one of the guards grunted, lunging forward. He tackled her with a flying leap, landing on her legs when they crashed to the cobblestone street.

Tari tried to kick her legs free, but one of the other (fake, probably) soldiers was already on her, kneeing her between the shoulders to keep her pinned to the ground.

“Ah-ah-ah, lady elf. Not so fast, you would not want to break your precious vows, would you?” the (fake) soldier said, leering over Tari before shoving a cloth gag in her mouth.

Tari stilled for a moment.
Humans don’t know much about Evening Stars. How on the Continent did he find out about our vows?

The (fake) soldiers tied Tari’s arms behind her back, taking care to also tie her feet together, before standing and slinging her over the shoulder of the biggest
man among them. Clearly whoever sent them had learned from the previous attack.

Tari squirmed and raged behind her gag as she was carried into an alleyway. They turned corner after corner, but they were traveling in the direction of clanging swords and shouting. Tari fumed and wriggled as they moved into a small road that cut through dumpy houses.

Tari could see people, normal people not would be assassins, standing in the shadows; but when they met her eyes they turned and hurried away.

No one would help her.

Tari was set on the ground. A soldier steadied her as another of her kidnappers held a sword at the back of her neck.

Tari screamed—still muffled—when she saw Arion in the middle of the road, viciously fighting with half a dozen m
en. Although he was outnumbered Arion was clearly getting the best of them.

“Captain Arion,” the kidnapper with the sword at Tari’s neck shouted. “If you value the life of your bond partner you will stop fighting.
”

Arion spun, parrying a blow to his right shoulder before he caught sight of Tari. He
stilled and stared at her.

Tari yanked her head forwa
rd to shout at Arion, but the soldier steadying her grabbed her braided hair and pulled it taut, making her scalp prickle.

“Wha
t will it be captain? Cease fighting, or give up your partner?” the kidnapper smirked.

Tari, choked on the rag when Arion
dropped his sword. It hit the crumbling road with a metallic clang.

Tari’s eyes widen
ed and she yelled against the gag. Arion’s dark eyes were fastened on Tari as he braced himself for a blow from a mace aimed at his shoulder.

Tari’s thoughts raced as a captor pulled on her braid again.

No, no,
no
!

Tari inhaled deeply
before folding her knees and crashing to the ground. The sword at her neck sliced through the braid of her hair like butter. Tari’s knees stung when she fell, jarring her horribly, but Tari had accomplished her goal.

The kidnapper holding her now severed braid
used
to have a small knife on his belt. It was now in Tari’s possession.

Tari expertly twirled the knife in her grip, her hands still behind her back, sawing through the rope before the soldiers could
react. She lunged forward, planting her hands on the ground—the knife tucked beneath one of her palms—and lifted her legs up before whipping them around. The maneuver pulled the kidnappers’ legs out from under them, and they crashed to the ground. Tari cut through the rope on her ankles and rolled forward.

Free, Tari bounded across the road and leaped to a depilated counter stationed in front of an abandoned store. She ju
mped from the counter to the peak of a window sill and swung on top of the building.

The kidnappers lumbered after her, but by the time they reached the roof Tari was already half a blo
ck down, nimbly springing from roof to roof.

“Are you sure you want to follow?” Tari hollered to them in human. “These roofs aren’t
steady. I’m an elf, I’m light,” she said, jumping up and down to illustrate her point. “But you guys…you’re fat.”

As if her words were magic the roof caved in. All four men shouted as they plummeted to the ground. A cloud of dust puffed up from the building, and they coughed and groaned from in the store.

“Wilford will be so proud to know I properly slighted someone,” Tari murmured before shifting her gaze to Arion.

The second Tari had freed herself the limber captain dodged the mace blow and unsheathed his
second
sword, a short sword attached to his back and hidden by his cloak. He was blowing his whistle, making quick work of the men attacking him.

Attack
er one was kicked in the chest and slammed into a building. Attacker two and three smashed into each other when Arion slid forward to avoid them. An elbow to the nose took out attacker four, attacker five was victim to a hilt in the back of the neck, and the man with the mace went down with a brutal head butt.

Tari climbed off her perch and trotted to Arion’s side as the captain continued to blow his whistle. He eyed Tari up and down, his gaze lingering
on her cut hair. “Any injuries?” he asked, pausing his blowing for a moment.

Tari shook her head and rubbed her arms as she shivered in the dusk air. “None. Although I want my basket back.”

Arion snorted and went back to blowing his whistle.

Later that evening Tari sat on the sett
ee in her sitting room, combing her hair as Arion finished speaking with several guards.

Evlawyn had just finished trimming Tari’s hair, eveni
ng it out so it was not so chopped looking. It felt curiously short and moved at the smallest gesture Tari made. The back was a great deal shorter than the front—which was barely long enough to touch her shoulders. Tari was a little shocked as previously her hair fell roughly to her elbow, but at least it would be faster to style now.

The last of the Honor G
uards shut the door, leaving Tari and Arion alone for the first time since the attack. (Already they had been interviewed by both kings, the Guard Commander, and a slew of army soldiers.)

“I am puzzled,” Tari announced as Arion sat next to Tari on the sett
ee, the cushion sighing beneath him.

“Oh?”

“Indeed, who do we know
hates
both
of us this much?” Tari asked, gesturing broadly with her comb.

Arion tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Is Evlawyn here?”

“No. I told her to leave for the evening.”

Arion nodded before replying. “Crown Prince Benjimir.”

Tari snapped her neck and eyed the captain.

“Have you not noticed the unease he displays towards us?” Arion asked.

Tari was quiet for a moment and stared at the tea table in front of them. “I have,” she finally admitted. “I was hoping I was being paranoid. What has raised your suspicions?”

“His conduct with my transfer. It was no accident that King Celrin recommended we play our charade in front of the king
and
the prince. The Crown Prince said no one approached him about my transfer. That does not mean
he
was not the one who approached the commander about the transfer. What of you?”