Come back to me, he thought. I have a lot left to say.
“I tried calling her,” Gavriel said then. “But her phone is off.”
Raff smirked. “If that surprises you, then you’re dumber than you look.”
“She’s smart to run silent. There’s always a way to pick up on electronic chatter. Coming in quick and quiet offers the best chance for success,” Mags noted.
He hated how impersonal she sounded, like Thalia’s life didn’t matter. As his temper flared, the symbols on the screen reached their target, one by one, and flared red, indicating multiple successful strikes. “It’s done. Only time will tell if we made a difference.”
Gavriel grabbed him by the shirt front. “If she falls to Gilbraith, if you let her die, I’ll kill you. I hope you know that.”
Suddenly what Sky had seen made sense, only it wasn’t what he’d feared. Vengeance, not treachery.
Raff only nodded. “My life is in your hands.”
29.
Thalia ran.
She didn’t have much time, after slipping away outside the kitchens. Instead of searching for the fictitious Eldred, she had to hunt down Ruark Gilbraith and kill him. Maybe she had Ferith to thank for the distraction, but whatever the case, she still had a job to do. Braithwaite was in utter chaos, thanks to the explosions still booming to the west.
Mentally she reviewed the plans she’d memorized and tried to guess where Gilbraith would be. A strong leader might be at the front, directing his troops, but since he’d never once attacked her in person, that seemed unlikely. No, he’ll be hiding somewhere in case the danger is severe. Workers ran past her, fleeing from various parts of the house, which was old and built of pale stone, too many windows to be considered secure.
A soldier stopped her, as she headed for Ruark’s private quarters. “Who—”
Thalia ended it there with a twist of a poison blade. The guard gurgled and fell; she hurried away from the body. No time to waste. Now the clock was ticking. With people running everywhere, they’d know the enemy had gotten inside but covering her tracks wasn’t worth it. The survivors would all swear fealty, no matter what she did here.
Thalia kept her head down, and though she got a few looks, due to her Animari disguise, nobody cared enough to chase her down. Deeper into the wing set aside for Ruark and his cronies, she saw fewer and fewer people. It seemed like many of his followers were scrambling to loot the place and save themselves in case this was a full-scale invasion.
Timing it carefully, she waited out a couple of guards who seemed to be on alert and patrolling the wing, but most of them had gone to investigate the bombardment. Lucky me. The explosions finally stopped, which meant she didn’t have long. Ruark’s officers would knock the lower ranks back into place soon enough.
They won’t get the chance.
On her way through, Thalia heard fighting in other parts of the house. Ferith must have found a way in. Her own progress was burning luck—and life—each moment she ran unchallenged, but it was worth it. Once she found Ruark, she might never need to use her gift again. A flicker of a feeling led her to turn right, and toward the end of the corridor, she glimpsed a squad of six fully armed Noxblades. All their weapons would be poisoned, and they were on high alert.
Ruark is behind the door they’re guarding.
Taking a deep breath, she stilled just around the corner to assess what she could use to turn the situation to her advantage. The six needed to die quick and quiet or Ruark would be ready to fight the second she walked in, and she might need the element of surprise to guarantee a win. Pushing her luck too far might kill her. Literally.
And I don’t want to keel over from blazing out here. I want a life. With Raff.
That certainty leveled her out, so that her heart stopped hammering in her ears and she surveyed the scene with a second stolen glance. Lights overhead. A shot from her bracers might short them out, a gamble worth taking. Before she could overthink, Thalia wheeled out into the open and sent a streak of lightning zinging into the light strip overhead. The lights dropped, as she’d hoped, and she fired twice more, then sent a glass vial spinning at them. That was one of Ferith’s favorites, a smoke toxin that would melt their lungs and leave them vomiting blood, but it would take a while before she could pass safely to kill Ruark.
One of the Noxblades stumbled toward her, slashing with clumsy hands. It was hard to be a graceful, elegant dealer of death when your eyes were oozing blood. She backed away as the emergency lights built into the walls flickered on. The red strobes lent the dying assassin a surreal air. He lunged at her and hit the wall as she danced away. Really, she should just shoot him, but it was more fun to watch him slide down the wall, leaving bloody handprints. The rest of them stayed in the poison cloud, choking and dying in such a painful way that Ferith might have even winced.
“Darien?” A male voice called from behind the door. “What’s happening out there?”
Darien must be dead, she figured.
She didn’t answer. It would be funny if Ruark stumbled into her poison trap, but she should’ve known he wasn’t brave enough. In the end, she killed two more patrols while waiting out the cloud. The rest of her poisons all required contact or ingestion, as it was dangerous to carry too many of those vials. If you ever put a foot wrong, it was an easy yet excruciating way to die.
She tossed a meter strip to make sure the air
