“Because my word means something, and yours doesn’t,” she said through gritted teeth. What would happen if she changed shape now? It had worked with James, but Bacchus could just as easily stab her while she was distracted.
To her surprise, Bacchus laughed and stepped back. He loosened his grip on her arm, and she flung the garrote to the ground. Kyra kept a firm grip on her blade and scanned the street around her. The few people who had been around before had all fled.
“If you’re trying to scare me into stopping my work with the Palace, it won’t work.”
Bacchus spat on the ground. “You snagged one of our lowest-ranking men and failed at snagging another. I in’t losing any sleep.” Kyra couldn’t tell if he was bluffing. “I didn’t come to kill you,” he added. “I bring a message.” Kyra eyed the garrote on the ground, and he shrugged. “James said to leave you alive. He didn’t say how alive.”
James? Kyra couldn’t help looking around. “Where is he?”
“Where you left him,” he said. “But he’s got a message for you.”
“How did he get word to you if he’s still in the dungeon?”
The assassin gave Kyra a look that conveyed just how stupid it was for Kyra to expect an answer to that question.
“He tells you to think carefully about what you’re doing against the Guild. You think you’re helping the city by cooperating with the Palace, but the wallhuggers aren’t your friends. They never will be.”
The last time Kyra and James had talked at length, he’d warned her that the Palace would betray her. Was he still trying to sway her to his side? Was he confident enough of her capitulation that he would show his hand like this?
“And James claims to be my friend?” she asked.
Bacchus’s eyes glittered over his ebony beard. “Trust me, lass. He doesn’t want you for a friend. But he wants you to go talk to him when you finally see clearly.”
“I’ve no interest in seeing him,” said Kyra. “He’s in the dungeon, where he belongs. I won’t fall prey to his schemes again.”
Bacchus didn’t seem surprised by her answer. He spun his blade in his hand and contemplated her thoughtfully. “You still living with the two girls?”
Idalee and Lettie. If he wasn’t threatening them outright, he was smugly reminding her of the time James had blackmailed Kyra by threatening her friends. Hot rage ran through her. “I swear, Bacchus,” she said. “If you ever so much as hint a threat toward my family again, I will kill James and track you down. You can’t keep me out of your hideaways if I want to get to you.” It was surprising how easily those words came out.
He laughed at that. “You’ve changed, lass, and I see I touched a sore spot. Don’t worry. Your friends are safe for now. James’s message is simply a request. The rest is up to you.” He looked her over. “You don’t look like one of them demon beasts.”
Kyra went cold. James had told Bacchus. Why hadn’t he told the Palace?
“Get away from me,” Kyra said.
Bacchus gave a mocking bow and walked away.
T H R E E
Tristam let out a groan as he eased the helmet off his head. At least it wasn’t summer, when the leather trapped the sun’s heat in a miasma of oil and sweat. But even in the winter, he hated how the helmet pinched his temples. The icy breeze blew through his damp hair as he stood outside the guard armory after his morning shift, standing in line behind his fellow Red Shields to hang up his gear. Each Red Shield had his own armor and basic uniform, but the overcoat that marked on-duty guards was shared, as were the ceremonial shields and helmet covers.
“I could use a flagon right now,” said a man from inside.
“Aye, me too,” said another. “Though I’ve a craving for a good fine wine. My cousin gifted me a bottle last fall, and I still taste it in my dreams.”