harm’s way, and she was already holding so much misery inside. Any more and she felt she would collapse.
“All right,” she said. “But I’m going with you.”
Hubert opened his mouth to protest, and Captain Drathan sputtered. The adept’s lips turned down into a sour frown, but Josey put on her “empress” face and he said no more. She was terrified, especially for the life growing inside her, but she had to be strong.
“Lord Chancellor, conduct a search of the entire palace, including the outer grounds. I am guessing the assassin has fled, but we need to be sure.”
Hubert nodded and made way as Josey walked past him. Holding up the glowing knife, she led them down the darkened corridor, back to the inhabited portion of the palace.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Caim blew into his cupped hands to warm them. He stood with his fighters in a dark alleyway off Trepmire Avenue, a corridor of furrier stores and taxidermists in the city’s upper west end. The street had one shining feature: it gave a clear view to the citadel at the heart of the city. He was following his instincts at this point. They had gotten him this far.
Kit huffed. “It’s a mark past midnight already. What are we waiting for?”
In defiance of the cold, or perhaps just to tweak his nose, she wore a slinky white dress. Past midnight. Caim counted days in his head. Gods above. Today is Yuletide.
Hoping the holy day wasn’t a bad omen, Caim leaned out of the alley. The contrast with Othir couldn’t have been starker. In the south, Josey’s city would be festooned with lights and holly wreaths. People were still out this late, visiting with family and friends. But here, the frozen streets were empty. No people, no lights. But there were plenty of bodies to be seen as they infiltrated the city. It looked like a war had been fought inside the walls, and he couldn’t tell who had won. They’d heard the roar of battling mobs in distant streets and seen the glow of fires erupting all across Liovard, but with Kit’s help he’d been able to steer his men around the trouble spots. It reminded him of the riots in Othir, but these people seemed almost crazed, some half naked as they attacked everything and everyone around them.
Once inside the old city, Ramon and Angus had taken their men and split off on a different track, something to which they were well suited and prepared. Waiting for their signal, he hoped they knew what they were doing.
Keegan came up to stand beside him. The youth was wrapped in his cloak. His hands were gloved, his face blackened with soot. Caim told him before they embarked not to hold back. Tonight, they hunted in earnest. By the look in his eyes, the boy had taken that to heart.
“Well. What are we waiting for?”
Caim looked from Kit to Keegan, then ignored them both.
“Caim,” Kit whispered.
He felt it, too. A bizarre undercurrent in the city, stronger than before, setting his nerves on edge. Then distant bells began to ring, and a new glow lightened the east side of the city. That was the signal. Caim took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. It was time for the next phase of his plan. The idea was simple. He’d done it before without trying, but never on such a scale. True, he had been fighting for his life in those moments, but if he did it by accident, he could do it deliberately. So why are my hands shaking? Stop stalling.
He pictured a place. He’d never been there, but he had a rough description. That would have to be enough. An image formed in his mind, an empty courtyard paved in broad stone blocks surrounded by gray walls. He added battlements and defensive towers. When the picture was as real as he could make it, Caim reached out with his mind. Whispers chattered at his back as an empty hole appeared in the air at the mouth of the alley. It remained steady for a pair of heartbeats, but then the edges began to ripple. The strain of holding the gateway open was more than he had anticipated.
Caim beckoned the men standing behind him. “Move! Quick!”
Keegan was the first in line. With only a brief glance at Caim, he ducked his head and jumped through the portal. For a moment, Caim thought the rest might balk, but one by one they entered. By the time the last of his team had crossed over, his entire body was shaking, and the edges of the portal wavered. Hoping Keegan remembered his instructions, Caim dove through.
Darkness closed over his eyes, and the air froze in his lungs as he passed through the void. A tearing sensation pulled at his flesh. It might have lasted for one heartbeat or a dozen, but then the night sky reappeared before his feet struck hard-packed earth. It took him a moment to gain his bearings. As his sight cleared, Caim made out the battlements atop a massive barbican, stone walls studded with square towers, and the keep squatting within their embrace. He had expected some kind of reception-a few sentries on the walls, at least-but there was no one here. That bothered him more than a little. It didn’t seem possible Ramon’s diversion had attracted every soldier in the citadel.
A soft glow surrounded him as Kit appeared. Instead of a quip and a grin, she greeted him with a frown.
“I don’t like this.”
“Me neither,” he said under his breath.
“This place has a bad aura. Like a lot of people died here recently.”
“Just get inside and poke around. We need to find the duke.”
“Be careful.” She leveled a stern glance at him as she vanished.
The outlaws hunkered against the base of the nearest wall. Caim found Keegan standing over one of the men, who was writhing on the flagstones and clutching his knee.
“What happened?”
Keegan looked up. “Iain slipped coming out of that circle thing and broke his leg.”
“I just twisted it,” the outlaw said.
Caim could see the knee joint was dislocated. This fighter was no longer of use to them. He told the others.
“I can make it,” Iain argued.
Caim shook his head. “You’ll slow us down.” To Keegan he said, “Put him someplace out of sight. Make sure he stays quiet.”
He didn’t say they would come back for him. Everyone understood the risks and accepted them. While a pair of men carried Iain to a dark corner of the courtyard, Caim beckoned to Keegan, and they both went over to the gate that separated them from the keep. Like the sallyport across the bailey, the inner gate was open and unmanned. There was a guard station on the other side, but it was dark. Caim listened for a dozen heartbeats, but heard nothing. The post was abandoned.
He stepped closer to Keegan and kept his voice down. “Once we get inside, keep everyone close on my heels. If we get separated, remember what I taught you. If someone falls-”
“We won’t let you down.”
Aye, but what if I can’t hold up my end of the bargain?
Caim swallowed his anxiety while Keegan gathered the outlaws. When everyone was ready, Caim drew his blades. The black sword shook in his hand. Blood pounded in his temples. The faces of the men around him appeared leaner and grimmer. With a deep breath, Caim dipped inside the doorway and sprinted across the pavestones.
The inner keep was a vast square with angled walls to provide for enfilading fire. Caim stared down fifty arrow loops as he ran across the courtyard. There could be a company of archers behind them, waiting to feather him. He didn’t slacken his pace until he reached the door. Finding it ajar, he swung it open with the knife. No guards here, either. The worry that had begun as a tickle at the nape of his neck was now stomping up and down his spine.
No sentries. Unguarded gates. An unlocked door leading into the central keep. Why do I feel like an undertaker digging his own grave?
Caim waited ten breaths for the others to get across the bailey. Then he eased inside the doorway. Two armored figures waited inside. He started to attack the one to his left, but checked the sword’s arc before it landed.
