“Traitor!” Cassia screeched as she stumbled back from her father’s desk. “Kill him daddy. Use the chain and kill him!” she screamed.
A ragged breath tore from his father’s throat as Truce watched in sick fascination. Blood was beginning to fleck around the man’s lips and his skin was turning a dark red as if he couldn’t breathe. Calmly Sovaesh reached into the pocket of his coat and produced a silver chain. Pulling down his mask he smiled coldly at Donrey. “This chain?” Sovaesh asked as he dropped it to clatter on the desk. “You killed my son. You threatened my wife. You sent me to kill my own mother. Did you honestly think there would be no reckoning?” Sovaesh snarled as he stalked around the desk, stopping just behind Donrey’s chair. With a gloved hand he seized Donrey by the hair and pulled his head back savagely. “Do you see this?” Sovaesh snarled as he held a slender silver dagger before Donrey’s eyes. The weapon was finely crafted and more ornate than anything Truce had ever seen the Assassin use.
“Stop him, Truce. He is killing daddy!” Cassia sobbed, her eyes wide with terror.
“This is the dagger you skinned your daughter with, Donrey,” Sovaesh finished as he drove the dagger hard into the High Lord’s eye. The body bucked beneath the Assassin’s grip and Sovaesh released his hold on the man with a look of satisfaction on his face. Turning back to Truce, he smiled again. “Surrender to Merrodin, Truce, while you still have time, and rule better than your father did. He earned that death a thousand times over. Now call your guards and have me arrested. As you sister says, I am a traitor.”
Numbly Truce stared at the Assassin for what felt like eternity before he managed to shake his head slowly. “I don’t want to have you arrested, Sovaesh,” he whispered. In truth he wanted to hug the man or thank him at least.
“You have no choice, Truce. I just killed the High Lord. Your people will expect justice for that,” Sovaesh replied, his voice pitched for Truce’s ears alone.
“Guards!” Cassia screeched from the door, her voice rising like a banshee’s wail. “Guards!” she repeated as she fled the room.
“Thank you,” Truce whispered to the Assassin as the sound of running footsteps filled the hall.
“If they made their house any bigger they would have to set up campgrounds in the hallways for visitors that were trying to get from one side to the other,” Neph grumbled.
“In Delvay, they live in huts and you can spit across the room. Delvay don’t need big houses because they are manly,” Valor mocked in a parody of Neph’s deep voice.
“In Delvay, we use Arovan knights as floor mats and eat their horses for dinner,” Neph said, giving a Valor a dark look.
“In Merro, you both shut the hell up and try to act dignified when we conquer other countries,” Jala snapped, cutting them both off before the conversation could worsen. She had to admit though, Neph was right. The Avanti house was too damned big. They had entered the city at the first sign of surrender and thirty minutes later she was still trying to reach the High Lord to settle terms.
“Isn’t he supposed to come to you for this?” Neph asked as they followed the servant up another flight of stairs.
“How much farther?” Jala growled to the servant.
“The top of these stairs and to the right, Lady,” the woman answered in a quavering voice. She didn’t look more than twenty at the most and obviously had never expected to be the one guiding invaders through her master’s house.
“Better not be very far to the right. I’m sick of walking,” Neph grumbled.
“Lazy bastard,” Valor said with a quick glance at Neph.
Jala let out a weary sigh and glanced back at them. Against everyone’s advice she had only brought an escort of two as well as her Bendazzi. At the time it had seemed like a splendid idea. Neph was like a big brother to her and Valor was her anchor. They were the two that she trusted most in the world, but she had forgotten how they bickered. “I should have brought Ash and Jail. They are both so serene,” Jala mused aloud, a trace of longing in her voice.
“That you would have fallen asleep with boredom and fallen back down the stairs, broken your neck, and died. Then Avanti would triumph. Wise choice to bring us,” Valor said with a charming smile.
Neph snorted in amusement and smiled at her. “I would have laughed. Even when they rolled your body into the ground I would have been laughing, and I would have made the tombstone myself. Survived everything but the stairs,” he said with a wicked smile.
“Yours is going to read. She had no choice but to kill him. He wouldn’t shut up. And I bet you get yours a lot sooner than I get mine,” Jala promised sweetly and let out a sigh of relief as they reached the end of the hall.
The servant bobbed her head meekly and held up a hand. “Please wait here while I announce you,” the woman said in a voice that held a note of pleading.
“I don’t think so,” Jala said darkly as she moved forward and pushed the woman aside. Shaking her head in disgust, Jala shoved the doors open roughly and stalked into the room, her eyes scanning the occupants immediately. Truce sat at his father’s desk and a red-eyed Cassia was tucked into a chair in the corner, a napkin clutched between her delicate hands. A tall man in the uniform of an Avanti elite stood near one wall while two guards stood on either side of the door.
“Lady Merrodin,” Truce stammered as he rose to his feet, his gaze flicking to the door. No doubt the man was wondering why his servant had failed to announce her.
Jala stared at the guards for a breath then slowly turned to look at Truce. “I’ve crossed half the city to speak with you. You surrendered, remember? Why did you not meet me at the gate?” She asked coldly.
“I thought it would be best if we discussed such things privately,” Truce began, his tone faltering as he watched her.