T W E N T Y - E I G H T
Darylene screamed. Tristam shouted Malikel’s name and took a step forward, so intent on his commander that he almost didn’t see the man coming at him from the side. Tristam ducked out of the way just in time to avoid being gutted. He pivoted to face his attacker. It was another of the Red Shields who had accompanied them. Had Willem managed to turn them all? Tristam drew his dagger, extremely grateful that he’d kept it on him this morning. When his attacker came at him again, he stepped around the Red Shield’s knife hand and grabbed his wrist, pulling the man past him and sinking his own blade deep between his opponent’s ribs. He pulled his dagger free and threw the man to the ground.
Tristam cast about, breathing heavily, trying to get his bearings. The man who’d attacked him lay on the ground in front of him. Darylene stood pressed against the wall. There were blood spatters on her face and gown, but she looked otherwise uninjured. Malikel crouched with his hand pressed to his side. The mysterious box sat on the ground not far from him, and next to the box lay the body of the soldier who had attacked the Defense Minister. The room was otherwise empty. Willem and the remaining two Red Shields were nowhere to be seen.
“Malikel!” Tristam ran to his commander’s side.
The older man groaned. “It’s not as deep as it could have been,” he said. “Must have glanced off one of my ribs. Help me bind it.”
Darylene came forward with a strip of fabric she’d torn from the bed linens. Tristam thanked her and set about wrapping Malikel’s chest.
“Quickly, Tristam,” said Malikel. “Did anyone see what happened to Willem?”
“He ran, with the two Red Shields after him,” said Darylene.
Malikel exhaled sharply through his nose as Tristam pulled the makeshift bandages tight. “All four of the guards were loyal to Willem?”
“I don’t think so,” said Darylene. “Three of them were, and the fourth chased Willem when he fled.”
Tristam secured the bandages, and Malikel gripped his arm. “A hand, please.” Tristam had doubts about whether his commander should be standing and moving, but he obeyed. The Defense Minister regained his feet and nodded toward the door. “We need to get word to the Council.”
Darylene took the hard-earned box of evidence, and Tristam ducked under Malikel’s arm. They slowly made their way out, Tristam sneaking surreptitious glances at his commander to see how he fared. Malikel moved as if it pained him, but at least he was supporting much of his own weight.
Tristam drew his dagger as they stepped into the corridor. It was eerily silent in Willem’s house. As they made their way down the staircase, Tristam caught sight of a few servants running away. As he neared the front door, Tristam heard noises from outside—shouts, yells, and the clash of weapons. Malikel frowned.
Tristam stopped. “With your permission, sir, I’ll go scout.”
Tristam wished he had his sword. The dagger wasn’t going to do much good against enemy soldiers. Willem’s doorman was long gone, so Tristam reached for the doorknob and hoped for the best.
He opened the door to a battle in full swing. Soldiers clashed swords while Palace staff did their best to flee the fighting. Tristam looked around in confusion as battle cries and screams assaulted his ears. Were they invaded? Had the enemy breached their walls so easily? But then he realized what had really happened. The three Red Shields who’d attacked Malikel were obviously not the only traitors in the compound.