Master of the Dance (25 page)

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "You are too weak. You need my help."

"I can walk, that is enough for now."

She rose and moved towards him. "Let me bandage your wound."

"No, you can keep your little paws to yourself from now on, girl. I do not find your adolescent fantasies amusing, nor do I intend to be the dolt you practice your wiles upon. Find some poor Cotti dimwit for that."

She gasped, stepping back. "Do you not believe me?"

"I am not interested."

"But I have just told you that I love you..."

"Those are not magic words, you know, and they do not work on me. You should have realised that by now. It is unfortunate you feel that way, but there is nothing I can do about it."

Kerra stared at him, her eyes filling with tears again. "Why can you not feel the same way? Why will you not let yourself feel something for somebody?"

He made a sound of disgust. "Weep, why don't you? That has been tried on me before too. It does not work."

"Is that how you see yourself? Impervious, unfeeling? A cold, heartless brute?"

"It is what I am."

"No, it is not. You did not want me to be hurt helping you, and you were going to die horribly for helping my mother."

He snorted, turning away from her probing gaze. "I was condemned because I got caught, and I helped Minna-Satu for the reward Shamsara promised me."

She caught his arm and turned him to face her, gazing into his eyes. "Why were you concerned that I might be hurt freeing you?"

"I told you, now leave it, Kerra. Go back to your rooms."

Kerra looked forlorn. As she opened her mouth to reply, the door handle turned as someone tried to open it. Blade cursed, glancing around for an escape route, or somewhere to hide. The argument had prevented him from hearing the footsteps outside, and now it was too late. The window offered him a way out, but not while burdened with the young Queen. The door handle rattled, and Blade grabbed Kerra's wrist, dragging her towards the curtains.

Before he reached them the door flew open with a splintering bang and two red-liveried soldiers stumbled in, drawing their swords. Blade released Kerra and turned, yanking the daggers from his belt. Kerra stepped back with a cry as the men rushed at them. Blade pushed her out of the path of one as he narrowly avoided the thrusting weapon of the other. She fell with a yelp, and Blade spun, kicking the sword from the guard's hands. It fell with a clatter and slid under the bed, then the other man swung at him.

Blade dropped and rolled, jumping up out of reach. The soldier who had lost his sword drew a dagger and raised it to stab Kerra. Blade lunged at him, deflected his arm and landed atop the girl, catching himself with his arms. Blade's charge knocked the soldier off balance, and he fell, his dagger impaling Kerra's flank. She gasped, then Blade pushed himself back onto his knees and whipped around, stabbed the man in the side of his neck and severed his jugular. Blood spurted in little fountains as the soldier rolled away, clasping his throat.

The impact had torn the dagger from Blade's weakened grip, and he turned as the second soldier tried to shove a sword into his belly. Blade rolled aside, cursing his weakness, and slashed at the man's leg with his remaining dagger. The man hopped back, blood oozing down his shin, and slashed at Blade again. The sword skimmed past Blade's ribs, opening a shallow gash. The assassin rolled to his feet and kicked the soldier in the throat. The guard staggered back, gagged and dropped his sword as he pawed at his crushed windpipe.

Blade turned and fell to his knees beside Kerra. She clasped her wound, her face pale with shock and pain, her eyes wide. He pushed her hands aside and hooked his fingers into the rip in her tunic, tearing it open to expose the wound. Turning to the dying soldier, he cut a strip from the man's tabard with a swift slash and used it to plug the wound. The soldier gurgled and coughed, clawing at his throat, and Kerra glanced at him with horror-filled eyes.

Blade bound the rag in place with a cloth cut from his bed sheets while Kerra chewed her lip. When he was satisfied that he had staunched the bleeding, he retrieved his other dagger and tucked the weapons away. Returning to kneel beside her, he found, to his intense chagrin, that she had fainted. Cursing, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. He got to his feet with difficulty, staggering under her weight as he went to the bed and picked up the dress she had shed earlier.

The surge of adrenalin from the fight powered his steps into the corridor and down it. Even so, he staggered drunkenly, using the walls for support. He knew he would not get far, and reeled down a short flight of steps that led to the servant's quarters. Few of the rooms were occupied, since Blade was the only one housed in this wing of the palace, and there were few whom Kerrion trusted to know about his presence. Pushing open the nearest door, he tottered into a tiny room and lurched to the bed, dropping his burden on it with a grunt. His shoulder throbbed and his muscles quivered as he sat beside her.

It was only a matter of time now before the guards were missed, then found. When that happened, they would search this wing of the palace. If they found her dressed in his clothes, they would probably hurt her before they realised she was a girl. Removing the makeshift bandages, he unlaced the jacket and pulled it off, then the trousers. His hands shook with fatigue as he bound the wound again, then pulled the dress on over her head. The injury was not serious. The dagger had missed any vital organs thanks to his deflection. He threw the black outfit into a cupboard and went back to the bed, pausing to gaze down at the girl.

Kerra's declaration unsettled him, bringing back unwanted memories of childhood laughter and his parents' soft patting hands. That was the only love he had ever known, and it had faded into the mists of his past over the years, drowned in a sea of blood, hatred and death. It never ceased to amaze him that others found him lovable, and he wondered whether he would ever find the answer to the mystery. He used his ability to attract others as a weapon, and never intended that it should evoke such a powerful emotion as love. Then again, those whom it lured into his embrace usually died.

The fact that someone as young, innocent and lovely as Kerra had fallen in love with him surprised and troubled him. He had left Jondar to escape Chiana's wistful looks and affectionate smiles, and had stayed away from his estate to avoid the same from Lilu. Now he had the problem with Kerra, and it bothered him. As he gazed down at the young Queen, a memory flashed through his mind, taking him back to a terrible day he had tried so hard to forget, and he closed his eyes.

A ten-year-old girl danced in the hot sand, the sun beating down on her tangled raven hair, her grey eyes filled with pain and despair. Her thin arms, outstretched to plead for the mercy that she would not receive, jerked to the jolting of her exhausted movements. The jeering and clapping of the Cotti soldiers who forced her to dance for them echoed in his mind. Their brutal, sneering faces, laughing at her suffering. Sweat ran down her pale cheeks, mingling with her tears. His heart swelled with anguish and sorrow, merging with the beginnings of the terrible hatred that would sustain him for all the years to come. She collapsed, her fragile, ragged form lying in the harsh heat of the cruel desert sun.
He had tried to reach her, tried to save her... he had failed.

Blade shook himself from the memory before he recalled the stabbing pain of his loss. His last experience of love. Alenstra's face flashed through his mind, bound and gagged by Ronan's soldiers, her eyes pleading with him to save her. She had reviled him for his trade, then died because of him. Again he had failed, as he always seemed to do when someone he loved was in danger. Never again would he allow that to happen. Turning away, he limped into the corridor and made his way along it, seeking a safe hiding place.

Chapter Seventeen

A pounding on the doors roused Kerrion at daybreak, and persisted no matter how much he ignored it. Unused to being woken so early, the King sat up and rubbed his eyes, glancing at his wife, who pulled the sheet over her head. He discovered that he still wore his rumpled tunic, and had fallen asleep atop the bed covers. His head pounded and his stomach rumbled sourly, the after effects of the many cups of wine it had taken to dull his anguish so he could sleep. Recalling the events of the previous day that had not allowed him to sleep until almost dawn, he climbed off the bed and padded into the adjoining room to yank the doors open. An apologetic servant prostrated himself, begging forgiveness for his intrusion into the King's privacy. Kerrion gestured for him to enter, then closed the doors and frowned at him.

"What is so important that it requires my being woken so rudely at such an ungodly time?" Kerrion demanded.

"Many apologies, Sire." The servant bowed again. "Advisor Jadar asked that you be woken. He said you would wish to know."

Kerrion walked over to the bowl and pitcher, pouring water to splash his face. "Well, spit it out, man."

"The prisoner, Sire, who was racked in the executioner's courtyard. He has escaped."

Kerrion leant on the table, surprised by the strength of the surge of relief that went through him. "So what in Damnation must I do about it? Are the guards searching for him?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Good, then tell me when he has been recaptured."

"Of course, Sire."

The servant prostrated himself and fled. Kerrion washed his face and dried it, then returned to the bedroom. Minna sat up, her eyes bloodshot with fatigue. Evidently she had spent a sleepless night, too.

"Blade has escaped. How did you do it?"

She managed a wan smile, looking relieved. "Kerra did it."

His brows knotted. "Kerra? Are you mad? You risked her life for his?"

"It had to be done, and you would not do it."

"She could have been killed!"

"We planned it well. There was no chance of that. Until she freed him, she was in no danger, since all she was doing was creeping around at night. Once she had freed him, he would protect her, or hide her. She was in no danger. I would never do that. The only danger was that she might fail, but she did not." Minna rose and slipped on her robe. "I must go and see her."

"She had better be all right."

Kerrion followed her down the corridor to Kerra's rooms, ignoring the guards' shocked expressions at his bare-footed, half-dressed condition. Kerra's bed was empty, and Minna turned to him with a frown.

"Perhaps she is still with him."

"Or perhaps she is hurt, lying in a gutter somewhere."

"Blade would not allow that. I have every confidence in his ability to keep her safe. After all, he brought her all the way here from Jashimari."

Kerrion returned to their rooms to change, and Minna summoned her maidens to help her dress. Clad in clean clothes, Kerrion went to his study and summoned Jadar. The advisor arrived promptly, and the King frowned at him.

Jadar bowed. "I am sorry to have woken you so early -"

"What happened? Was anybody hurt?"

"Yes, Sire. Two guards were slain in a corridor near the executioner's courtyard. Another two were found dead in the Jashimari assass - lord's rooms."

"That is all?"

"No, a maiden was found in the servant's quarters, injured."

Kerrion jumped up. "Where is she? I must see her at once."

"Of course, Sire. A healer is attending her. Do you wish to question her?"

The King headed for the door. "Yes."

Following Jadar's directions, Kerrion strode into a servant's room in Blade's wing of the palace, where a brown-robed healer bent over Kerra, inspecting a wound in her side. Kerrion approached the bed, relieved when she looked up at him and forced a stiff smile.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "It is not serious, Sire."

"Thank God."

The healer shot him a surprised look, then returned to his task of smearing ointment on the wound and bandaging it. Kerrion waited for him to finish, aware of Jadar standing by the door, watching them. As soon as the healer had tied the last knot, Kerrion ordered him and Jadar out, then sat on the bed beside his daughter.

"What happened?"

She sighed. "Two court guards attacked us in Blade's rooms. It was stupid to go there. We were not thinking straight. He was so weak, and his hands..." She grimaced. "He saved my life, father."

"And he left you here? I shall kill him myself."

"What was he supposed to do? He must have carried me here after I fainted, which, considering that he could barely walk, was no mean feat. He must have put this dress on me and bound the wound, too. I am sure he knew it was not serious, or he would not have left me. He knew I would be found."

"He put the dress on you?" His brows shot up. "What were you wearing, for God's sake? Why did the guards attack you?"

She looked away. "I was wearing some of his clothes. I had to, in order to get past the guards. Skirts would have hampered me, and I did not want anyone to know I was a woman. I wore a veil, too."

"I see. So the guards thought you were another assassin. That was not very clever, Kerra. Do you know where he is now?"

"No."

"Was he injured?"

She frowned. "No, I do not think so. But his hands are so weak that he can barely hold a dagger."

Kerrion grunted. "I hope he has found a good place to hide, then. The court guards will tear the palace apart looking for him."

"We must find him. He is not well."

"That will be difficult, since he is probably very good at hiding."

"Mother must send Shista. She knows his scent."

The King nodded. "That may work. I will have you moved back to your rooms." He started to rise, the paused. "How did he save you, but let you be wounded?"

"He attacked the man who tried to stab me. If he had not deflected the blow, I would be dead."

"He did not succeed though, which surprises me. I have never known Blade to fail at anything."

Kerra grimaced. "He did not have the strength to fight, yet he killed three men."