D’Ambray took a lungful of air and roared. “Honey, I’m home!”
Skolnik turned to look. The stallion bore down at him and the senator took an involuntary step back. D’Ambray dismounted, ran up the steps, and pulled her to him, clamping her against his hard chest. “Give us a kiss.”
She would murder him. He showed no signs of letting her go, so Elara brushed his lips with hers as quickly as she could.
D’Ambray was gazing at her adoringly. “Did you miss me?”
“Counted the moments since you were gone.” In joy. She counted them in joy, hoping they would last forever.
D’Ambray finally released her and turned to Skolnik. “Who’s our guest?”
“State Senator Victor Skolnik,” Elara said.
D’Ambray smiled at Skolnik. His face practically radiated a good-natured “aw shucks” attitude. He looked impressed. “State Senator? Well. How about that? We’re moving up in the world. Honey, couldn’t you have brought Senator a glass of tea or something?”
What?
Skolnik’s eyes lit up. “I do apologize for imposing on your hospitality.”
“Don’t mention it.” D’Ambray walked down the steps. Elara followed him, trying to keep her rage from her face.
“State Senator,” Hugh said, clearly impressed. “How many of you guys are in the Senate, what like a hundred from the whole state?”
Skolnik visibly relaxed, the tension seeping from him with every word. “Thirty-eight.”
“Wow. Thirty-eight. Say, have you ever met Governor Willis?”
“As a matter of fact, I have.” Skolnik nodded. “We had dinner together during the last session.”
“Well, how about that, dear?” D’Ambray turned to her.
“Amazing,” she said.
“Say, I heard he has a honey of a wife,” d’Ambray remarked.
Skolnik grinned at him and leaned closer. “It wouldn’t be proper of me to comment, but yeah, she’s a good-looking woman, if you know what I mean.”
Hugh laughed and Skolnik smiled.
D’Ambray was pretending to be an idiot and was making her look like an idiot too, in the process. Elara strained to keep from grinding her teeth. Her magic coiled and uncoiled within her, an icy restless fire.
Stoyan had drifted away from them, moving all the way to the opposite castle wall.
“So, what brings you to our neck of the woods?” d’Ambray asked.
“Business.”
“A man after my own heart.” D’Ambray clamped his hand on Skolnik’s shoulder. “There are only two important conversations in this world. The first is the kind that gets you money and the second we won’t mention in mixed company.”
A big horse grin again. She had an irrational urge to punch him.
“So, what sort of business are we talking about?”
Skolnik opened his mouth.
“On second thought,” d’Ambray held up his hand. “I hate to be rude, but there is one small matter I have to take care of before we start, if you don’t mind. I’d like to give you my full attention.”
“Of course, of course.” Skolnik gave him a magnanimous wave.
“Excellent.” D’Ambray glanced at Stoyan. The Iron Dog raised his hand and made a come-here motion.
Four Iron Dogs came around the keep, dragging two men between them.
Skolnik froze for a moment. His expression shifted back to affable again, but she saw it, and the brief taste of his alarm was delicious.
The Dogs dragged the two men forward. The left one was taller, with a shaved head and hard eyes, his face pissed off. The one on the right, wiry and blond, wore a blasé expression as if this was just another day and he wasn’t being half-carried by two hard cases.
Professionals, she realized. Mercenaries of some sort or private security.
“Caught these two trying to climb over the wall.” Stoyan closed in and handed d’Ambray something.
D’Ambray held it up to the sun. A long, thin glass tube sealed with plastic with three pieces of cloth inside dipped in sand-like powder.
D’Ambray squinted at the tube. “Nasty bugger.” He held the tube out to her.
She took it and concentrated. Traces of her magic wrapped around the tube. The powder on the cloth shifted in response, crawling across the fabric to pool against the glass. Whatever was inside was alive and hungry.
Her magic touched it.
A living disease, boosted by magic, a disease that would spread like fire and kill within hours. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. She spat the word out. “Cholera.”
“Mhm,” d’Ambray said. “Our new friends planned to drop a present into our well. What would you say, honey, six hours and everyone in the castle would be dead and the disease vector would jump to the settlement, then to the lake? Or do you think it would be more like eight?”
She was too focused to answer, wrapping her magic around the vial, containing it.
The two mercenaries stared at him, the first still angry, the second still bored.
She finished the cocoon of magic and called, “Emily! Get Malcom and Gloria!”
Emily took off at a run.
Elara held the vial gently. They would have to dispose of this thing properly, with a lot of acid and fire.
Her gaze fell on Skolnik. It had to be him. He knew that once he walked in, everyone in the castle would gather around him, because he was a threat. While they were watching him, the two mercenaries would scale the wall and infect the well.
The fingers of her free hand curled like claws.
D’Ambray faced the two men, still smiling.
“Just get on with it,” the shorter of the men said.
“Good attitude.” D’Ambray pulled a knife out. It was a wicked blade, razor-sharp and thirteen inches long, with a tapered, slightly curved tip. The metal caught the sun and shone in Hugh’s hand. “Let him go and give the man a knife, for goodness sake.”
The two Dogs released the mercenary and took a big step back in unison. One of them pulled a black, foot-long blade and threw it. The knife bit into the ground by the mercenary’s feet. He grabbed it and grinned, dropping into a fighting stance.
D’Ambray stood motionless, seeming to ponder the shorter man.
Elara clenched her fist. D’Ambray was strong, but he was also large, and in a knife fight strength didn’t count and size was a detriment. Knife fighters were quick and small, and the mercenary looked like he’d been born with a blade in his hand. If d’Ambray lost…
If he lost, she would take matters into her own hands, Skolnik or no.
D’Ambray glided forward with predatory grace. His knife flashed, almost too fast to see. The front of the man’s dark shirt turned darker. He blinked. The gap widened, and she glimpsed the rosy clumps of intestines through the cut. It was so shocking, it didn’t seem real.
D’Ambray slashed again. The mercenary tried to counter, but the knife slid past his defenses, and he howled. Blood poured from where his left ear used to be. D’Ambray paused, frowning, like a painter examining a canvas, holding the knife like a brush. The mercenary charged. D’Ambray sidestepped and sliced off the man’s other ear. The mercenary spun away and somehow d’Ambray was there. A man of that size shouldn’t have moved that fast, but he did. The knife flashed again, slicing a gash across the man’s cheeks, widening his mouth.
“What the fuck?” the other mercenary cried out.
D’Ambray stepped forward, his movements beautifully liquid. His left hand caught the mercenary’s wrist. D’Ambray yanked the man’s arm straight, and stabbed into the inside of the elbow, twisting the blade. The man’s arm came off in d’Ambray’s hand. Blood poured.
He deboned him like a chicken. This isn’t happening, this can’t possibly be real, it’s too horrible to be real…
D’Ambray tossed the forearm aside.
The mercenary fell to his knees, his eyes wide, and toppled over. His intestines fell out in a clump.
The world had turned into a nightmare and she skidded through it, stunned and petrified.
“Look at that,” d’Ambray said. His voice froze the blood in her veins. “He’s going into shock. This won’t do. Not at all.”
D’Ambray held his hand out. A current of pale blue magic poured out of him, bathing the man.
The mercenary coughed.