They were dead.
He stared. No. No, it can’t be. He couldn’t be seeing what he was seeing. She’d been alive. They’d both been alive. His father was alive. It had only been a trip to Butterbelly’s and back. They’d been alive!
Kihrin put his hand to his throat. The stone around his neck was ice.
Unlike Butterbelly, neither Surdyeh nor Morea had been tortured. There was no need. Their killers had only to wait to find their prey—and they were still waiting.
Kihrin didn’t have to see beyond the First Veil to reveal the men lurking in ambush; he could feel them.
A man stepped out of the shadows and swung forward with a thick mace. Kihrin ducked back and narrowly avoided the skull-crushing blow. He found himself strangely calm as he calculated his chances: four enemies. They wore armor, weapons at ready. One stepped behind him to close off his exit.
Kihrin aimed his crossbow at the thug by the beaded curtain. He had one shot.
The man by the curtain took the bolt in the chest, a lethal hit. That would have been enough if he’d been alone, but the assassin had brought three friends. Those friends didn’t look stupid enough to let Kihrin reload. The remaining killers moved in, confident in an inevitable result.
If Kihrin had been in a worse situation in his entire life … well, it had been just that afternoon, in the hands of the demon prince Xaltorath.
But no High General was coming to save him this time.
He flipped one of his daggers and threw it at the rope holding up the canopy of beaded fabric Ola hung over her bed. The dagger hit true, sheared rope and binding.
Several dozen yards of sateen came crashing down like a net.
The men were armed with maces and clubs. They held nothing they could use to slice themselves free. Maybe they had tucked daggers into their boots but were too startled to unsheathe them in time. The men yelled as they tried to extricate themselves.
Kihrin jumped out of the way and reloaded. He shot two of the men while they were entangled. Then Kihrin pulled himself up on top of a rafter. He reloaded again. His heart was numb. There was no expression in the young man’s eyes as he looked the last assailant in the face, saw the now free man’s eyes widen in fear. The guard ran for the doorway. Kihrin fired a crossbow bolt through the assassin’s back.
Quiet settled over the room.
Kihrin sat there, perched up on the rafter with his back hunched over. It had been easy to kill those men, easier than he thought killing should be. That seemed wrong. A detached, emotionless part of his mind suggested he was too numb to feel anything. If his encounter with Xaltorath hadn’t been enough to freeze his soul, finding his father’s murdered corpse had finished the job.
Had it been so few hours since that meeting in the street? Years had gone by since then. He had aged decades.
Kihrin reloaded the crossbow. He looked at one of the men, at the weapons scattered on the floor, then looked over at the covered bed. The soldiers hadn’t carried edged weapons. They didn’t do this, he thought. He had to leave, fast. Ola—he didn’t want to think about the implications. He climbed down, pausing only to kick a still-struggling form and pick up a mace as he walked through the curtain to the front parlor.
And stopped cold.
All of Ola’s candles were lit.
A woman lay on top of Ola’s glass table, breasts and hips pressed against the glass. Her arms draped over the side in a way that reminded Kihrin of the brothel cat, Princess, just after she’d caught a mouse and was feeling smug about herself. The woman had pulled down Ola’s stuffed raven and was looking at it, nose to beak.
The woman’s skin was honey-gold and her brown hair was long and silky. Candlelight gleamed pink over her lithe body. Her clothing consisted of black leather belts, worn crisscrossed over her breasts, her stomach, her hips. The straps didn’t serve as either protection or modesty. She wore no weapons he could see, and he could see nearly all of her.
She might have been stunning if not for the madness in her dark eyes.
He almost told her this was the wrong brothel and she should go down the street to the Red Marks if she was looking for rough trade, but the sass died in his throat. She wasn’t there for sex.
She was there for him.
“How right you are, my pretty angel,” her sugar-sweet voice purred. “I’m here for you. You are my sweet little coconut, and I’m going to crack you open to get at the meat.”
She smiled as she leapt to her feet with such light grace she didn’t even tip the glass. Standing, the belts hid even less of her. She tossed the raven aside.
He swallowed hard. “Did I say that out loud?”
“No, Bright-Eyes.” She grinned. “You didn’t.”
“That’s what I thought.” His heart pounded fast inside him. Another demon. Oh Taja, not another demon.
“Oh, I’m not a demon, love. Demons don’t have real bodies. I do.”
“Stop reading my mind!”
She smiled at him fondly. “Now you’re being silly. Well done in there, by the way.” She nodded back to the jade curtain. “Most people lose it when they see their loved ones murdered. Freeze or run screaming, and either one would have had you clubbed like a veal calf. Of course, you should’ve finished your kills. One of those men is still alive.”
“How sloppy of me. I’ll just go back and fix that.”
“I don’t think so, ducky.” She licked her lips as she stared at Kihrin, still smiling, tapping the nails of one hand against her hip. Those nails were long and sharp, painted dark red or black. They looked wet.
Kihrin looked around. “More toughs on the way?”
“Just me,” she said.
“Just you. Who are you again?”
“So sweet of you to ask. I’m Talon. I’ll be your murderer tonight. You should feel honored, really. I’m only sent after the important ones.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.” Kihrin raised his crossbow and fired, praying she wasn’t reading his mind enough to dodge.
She didn’t. The bolt hit her in the chest. She staggered.
There was no blood. She smiled at him like a lover as she pulled the bolt from her body. The wound closed at once, leaving no sign of any injury.
Kihrin stared at her in disbelief. “I just want you to know this has been a really bad day.” He tossed the crossbow aside as he readied the mace.
She nodded, still smiling. “Don’t fret too much, beautiful boy. It’ll all be over soon.” She tossed the bolt behind her and advanced on Kihrin. “That can’t be your real hair color, but you’re pretty. I wonder why you’re so important.”
“Promise not to kill me and I’ll explain it to you. Over dinner perhaps?”
She looked at him like an eagle examining a squirrel. “So sorry. I’m planning on having a blind musician and a dancing girl for dinner. Don’t worry, I’ve saved you for dessert. You look tasty.”