“What’s he talking about?” Malikel directed his question at Tristam.
“There was a demon cat in the Palace, sir,” he said. “I was outside my quarters when I heard screams. I came running and saw it attacking these two and their brother.” Actually, he hadn’t simply been outside his quarters. He’d run out after Kyra, unwilling to let the conversation end the way it had, when he’d stumbled upon that scene.
“And what is he saying about the girl?”
This was it, then. Tristam sent a silent apology to Kyra. “It was Kyra, sir. She…she’s a Demon Rider. I saw her change back into her human form after the attack.”
Malikel’s face clouded over, though he didn’t look as surprised as Tristam would have expected. “You saw this with your own eyes?”
“Yes, sir,” said Tristam.
“And you had no idea of this. No suspicions.”
Tristam hesitated. It was bad enough to lie to any commander, but this was Malikel.
“You knew nothing of this, Tristam. It caught you by surprise,” continued the Defense Minister.
Only then did he notice the way his commander looked at him, and a subtlety in Malikel’s inflection, as if he was telling Tristam something rather than asking. “Yes, sir,” he said hesitantly. He thought he caught a glimpse of approval in Malikel’s eyes. “I tried to stop her from escaping, but I couldn’t.”
The crowd’s energy shifted again, and a new voice spoke. “A Demon Rider attack in the Palace? Do I hear this correctly?” Tristam felt the color drain from his face as Malikel squared his shoulders. The people gathered around parted for Willem.
“You heard correctly, Willem,” Malikel said.
Willem gave a passing glance to Dalton, who was only semiconscious. “What do I hear about Kyra of Forge being one of the Demon Riders?”
“That is what the witnesses claim,” said Malikel. The Defense Minister stood with his feet braced and back straight. He’s preparing to take a fall, thought Tristam. There’s no good outcome for Malikel here.
“We had one of our enemies in our midst the entire time, working for the Ministry of Defense?” The Head Councilman spoke more loudly than he needed to, and the look in his eyes was one of a bird of prey who had spotted a rabbit. “This is grave news indeed,” he said. “A very bad mistake for someone in your position, Malikel. I’m very sorry, but this will have implications.”
The Head Councilman’s eyes, however, glinted in a way that didn’t look sorry at all.
Someone must have raised the alarm, because the air filled with shouts and the loud rhythms of booted feet. Kyra’s leg throbbed where Santon had cut it. It had stopped bleeding, but her trousers kept sticking to the wound. She didn’t dare slow down. It would only get harder to escape.
She ran on instinct, too shocked to think out a coherent escape route, relying only on her reflexes to find her the safest way. She kept to the ledges as much as she could to avoid the Red Shields swarming the footpaths. When she had to travel on the ground, she darted from shadow to shadow, more than once diving into a corner to avoid being seen.
Finally, she scrambled up the Palace wall and flung herself over the top. Once on the other side, she ran into a sheltered alleyway. It was as safe a place as any to catch her breath, and she took in gulp after gulp of icy air.
She’d killed again.