The Traitor's Kiss (Traitor's Trilogy #1)

She dodged between trees, gasping for breath and changing direction as often as she could spring off rocks. The moonlight made her able to see where she was going, but it also made it easier for him to follow. His panting was right behind her. A swerve to the left gave her a glimpse of a hand reaching for the hood of her jacket. Seconds later, fingers brushed against it.

Sage swung around and smashed the metal rod against his outstretched forearm. He yelled, and she heard bone snap, but her split second of triumph ended as she lost her footing and tipped backward, tumbling down the steep slope. Her makeshift weapon went flying as she tucked and rolled, covering her head and neck rather than trying to stop her fall. The man grunted in pain as he fell after her.

Sage bounced over bracken and rocks until she crash-landed against a log at the bottom of the ravine, knocking the wind completely from her body. She couldn’t breathe. For a panicked moment, she thought she’d never breathe again, but then blessed air surged into her lungs, shocking her with its cold burn. She gasped and coughed uncontrollably.

“You little bastard!” A large hand grabbed her hair from behind. Sage was yanked off her feet and hurled against a tree. Stars swam in her vision, and she felt her bound hair come loose. He let her fall to the ground on her hands and knees in front of him. She saw his foot come up just before it kicked her hard in the ribs, and she flipped onto her back on the sharp rocks. A moan of pain escaped her.

“Well, well, what have we here?” he taunted. “A little girl lost in the woods.”

Alex’s dagger pressed against the small of her back. By some miracle it hadn’t been lost. It wasn’t much of an act to whimper and reach for her bruised back. She just had her fingers on the hilt when the hulking shadow reached down to pick her up by her throat.

His breath stank and spittle landed on her face as he brought her up close. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. His Grace will make everything better.”

The stars—real and imagined—faded, replaced by expanding blackness as Sage pulled the dagger free of its sheath. She rammed it up and into the soldier’s exposed armpit with every ounce of force she could muster. The pressure on her neck eased just long enough for her to catch half a breath, and she wrenched the hilt to sweep the blade within. Hot blood spilled over her hand, and then a second gush told her she’d found the artery. The edges of her vision were going white as the hand finally released her, but it was too late, and Sage was falling—though she never knew if she hit the ground.





70

QUINN WATCHED THE time candle slowly burn away the night hours. Cass had gone to bed long ago, urging him to do the same, though his friend must have known it would be impossible for him to sleep. Silence was his companion, and Quinn embraced it, let it soak into him.

Silence meant Sage hadn’t been caught. Silence meant she was safe.

She hated him.

He’d made up his mind not to tell her again he loved her until she was ready, but he could be dead by this time tomorrow; and so he’d tried, but she would have none of it. That had hurt worse than the night he’d said it the first time, and that had nearly killed him.

He glanced at the candle. Three a.m.

Casseck said she would cool down, she’d forgive him in time, but Cass didn’t know her inner fierceness like he did, didn’t understand the pain and loss she’d suffered when her father died. She’d had no one for so long. He knew without a doubt he was the first person she’d trusted—loved—in years. That was the worst part: ruining the chance she might ever open herself up to anyone again. He could take the loss of his own happiness, but destroying hers was unbearable.

He shouldn’t have let her go. All the courage she possessed couldn’t make up for how small and fragile she was. Letting her go was a sign he either didn’t love her enough or that he’d never be able to deny her anything.

Four a.m.

She understood him better than anyone, so maybe that was in his favor. He’d told her his deepest fear—that he was a monster—and she’d refused to even consider it. Of course, that had been before he’d shown her the nonkilling side of that, his willingness to lie when necessary. To lie to her.

Sometimes people get hurt.

Ash had said it so casually, he hadn’t understood then to take it seriously. But it was worse than physical blows, worse than stab wounds and scars. He’d give anything to go back to that first night and start over. To see her smile wistfully and say, Alex is a nice name.

That’s what he was with her: Alex. Hearing her say his name tonight had uncovered what he hadn’t realized had been so deeply buried. Of all his friends, only Cass ever called him Alex anymore, and then only in private when he wanted to make a point. Even to Charlie he was the captain now. But with Sage he didn’t have to be always right or always in control. Or rather, he wouldn’t have to be. The few minutes he’d allowed himself to be totally unrestrained had been the best of his life, though he thanked the Spirit she’d called him Ash. Had that not brought him to his senses, the night would have ended differently, and she would never, ever have forgiven him. At least now he had a chance, slim as it was.

Five a.m.

In less than sixteen hours it would all be over. If Sage had gotten out, then it didn’t matter if he failed—if he died. The right people would know in time to have a chance of stopping the duke, and she would live. Sending her out had been the right thing to do. She was fierce and she was smart. And now she was safe.

He looked up as Casseck came into the room, rubbing his face. It didn’t look like he’d slept much. A look passed between them and Alex nodded. Cass smiled in relief. A minute later Charlie appeared, looking pale but almost fully recovered. This time yesterday he’d been in agony, and Alex had cleaned out every bucket Charlie filled as penance. Tonight would be the perfect time to strike.

The page went to fetch water so they could shave. Breakfast was cold stew and stale bread from last night—they’d cooked the rabbits the dogs had brought back. It was almost time for the morning muster with the duke’s captain, Geddes. Wouldn’t he be pissed to know who had slipped past his net? Alex smiled to himself as he changed into a clean shirt and combed his hair.

There was a heavy drizzle outside, meaning the pass would be cleared in time for the reinforcements to march through. All his soldiers had to do was damage D’Amiran enough that he couldn’t effectively close up the pass by the time they arrived. Thanks to Sage’s brilliant idea on taking out the barracks, he was more optimistic than ever.

The men filed into their ranks, and Geddes approached, sneering as he always did. Alex couldn’t help his own smirk on his own face as he nodded his greeting—he would never salute that ratty-eared bastard. “All my men are present or accounted for.”

The captain barely looked at the columns before him. “So I see.” He tugged his ear as he looked Alex over. “Long night? You look tired.”

“The roof of our quarters leaks like a sieve. It was hard to sleep with all the rain pouring in.”

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