The Valcottan swung, the staff a blur.
But as the horse shied away from the weapon, Keris dove off the side, shoulder taking the man just below the chin. They hit the ground together, the Valcottan choking and clutching at his throat. Keris ignored him, racing to the door, only to stumble back from the heat.
There was no way inside. But over the crackle of flames, he could hear the screams from the family trapped within.
Think.
The other soldiers converged on Otis, the sound of blades crashing against blades loud as he fought them back. But he was only one man against a dozen, and if he were killed… Keris twisted, hand going to the sword at his waist, but Otis shouted at him, “Get them out!”
Keris’s instincts took over, pulling him down the length of the house. There were no windows on the ground floor, but there was a rain barrel resting against the wall. Keris leapt onto it and jumped as high as he could, catching the edge of the window frame on the second level, his injured shoulder screaming. Boots scrambling against the side of the building, he heaved himself up, then kicked in the glass, shards tearing at his clothes as he slipped into the smoke-filled home.
A fit of coughing immediately took control of him. Keris ripped off his coat, holding it over his mouth and nose as he felt around in the darkness for a door, finding it open to the hall beyond.
Tears flooded down his face, vision entirely obscured, but he followed the screams for help and found the stairs. Rising them swiftly, he opened the door to the attic, slamming it shut behind him before turning to face the terrified family. “Help is coming,” he gasped out, praying that was true, because he had no idea how he was going to get them out of this mess. Heroics were not one of his competencies.
The boy, who looked no more than six or seven, said, “One of them followed you in!”
The words barely had a chance to register before the door burst open, a coughing Valcottan rushing through, weapon raised.
Keris jerked free his own sword, the blades meeting with a crash, all the apathy he’d displayed with Otis vanquished by the adrenaline racing through his veins.
The other man was bigger, but Keris had always been fast, his speed making up for his lack of skill as they fought in the small space, the family screaming and diving out of the way even as smoke billowed through the open door.
He coughed with every other breath, his eyes streaming tears, but he kept between the Valcottan and the family, knowing the man would kill them if given the chance. Blocking a downstroke that made his injured shoulder shudder, he kicked the door shut and shouted at the mother, “Get the window open!”
“It’s stuck!” she sobbed. “It won’t open!”
“Break it!”
The woman didn’t move, but the boy picked up a wooden box and threw it, the glass shattering and fresh air rushing in.
But it would only buy them minutes.
The Valcottan scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand as he fought, face wet with tears, and Keris saw an opening in his guard. Then another.
Attack! He swore he heard Otis’s voice in his head. Kill him!
“No!” he snarled back, refusing to consider it.
The patrols would be here soon. The Valcottans would retreat. All he had to do was hold off until then.
But smoke rose between the floorboards, the growing heat having nothing to do with exertion.
They were running out of time.
The Valcottan attacked again in earnest, Keris’s injured arm starting to give, but he managed to parry blow after blow, staying on the defense. And when the Valcottan stumbled and Keris saw an opening, he swung his fist.
His knuckles stung as they collided with the man’s temple, sending him falling back. But the Valcottan didn’t drop his weapon.
“They’re retreating!” the boy shouted from his position by the window. “They’re running away.”
And Maridrinian horns were blowing.
“If you run, you might escape,” he said to the man through coughs. “Go.”
The man spit, the glob steaming as it hit the overheated floor. “This is vengeance, you Maridrinian rat. An eye for an eye for the innocent lives you took.”
Otis’s raid. The one Keris and Valcotta had instigated.
Then the Valcottan lunged, blade directed at the boy. Keris didn’t remember moving, but found himself between the two. Everything seemed to happen very slowly and all at once as the tip of his blade punched through the man’s leather armor, sliding between his ribs.
The Valcottan stared at Keris, eyes wide with shock, then slowly, he dropped to the ground.
Dead. He’s dead.
I killed him.
It felt like he was watching the scene from a distance. As though watching someone else entirely, hearing someone else cough, feeling someone else’s pain. Then the sound of someone shouting his name snapped him back into the moment.
“Keris!”
Otis’s voice echoed over the roar of flames and cracking timber.
“Keris, you need to get out! It’s going to collapse!”
“Shit!” Retrieving his coat from the ground, Keris used it to smash the rest of the glass out of the frame, the heat seeping through his boots painful. Leaning out, he saw Otis below him, face smeared with blood, but alive.
Lifting the boy, Keris told him, “Be brave,” then tossed him away from the flames licking the sides of the building, Otis catching him easily. Beyond, the patrol burst into sight on galloping horses, but Keris paid them no mind, his attention on the girl.
“I’m too scared,” she wept as he balanced her on the sill. “It’s too far down.”
“It’s not that far. And if you do it, you’ll be able to tell all your friends you were rescued by Prince Otis Veliant.”
The girl turned to gape at him, then her face grew determined, and she jumped.
“Go,” he said to the mother, nearly shouting in frustration as she hesitated on the window, asking, “Who are you?”
“No one of consequence. Now jump.”
The woman leaped. Otis was too entangled with her daughter to catch her, but the woman landed well enough, rolling over the dirt.
Climbing onto the sill, Keris winced as the heat hit him in the face, flames reaching up to singe his boots. It was an easy jump for him, or would be, if they’d get out of his way.
“Move!” Coughing, he bent his knees. Then timber cracked and the building fell out from under him.
18
ZARRAH
Her horse labored beneath her as she galloped through the Maridrinian countryside, Yrina and her group of soldiers in hot pursuit. They were in enemy territory, which meant an attack could come from all sides, but Zarrah found herself not caring. All that mattered was stopping the raid. She told herself it was to protect her cousin from the Empress’s wrath, but in her heart, she knew it was something deeper.