86
ALEX KICKED HIS way into the window, thankful the shutter panes were pulled open. His feet caught on the tapestries around the frame, and he tumbled head over heels into the room. He struggled to untangle his legs as the duke loomed over him. Alex rolled away, looking up just in time to raise an arm in defense. White-hot pain lanced through his left forearm as a dagger stabbed completely through it. He wrenched away, tearing the knife out of D’Amiran’s hand.
His sword came free from its scabbard and Alex swung it wildly. D’Amiran jumped back, stumbling against the heavy wardrobe he’d pushed in front of the door. A wooden trapdoor lay exposed under where the cabinet must have stood. The duke had been only seconds from escaping. He’d killed Charlie to gain time, but it hadn’t been enough.
Alex lurched to his feet as D’Amiran yanked a sword down from the wall. Alex parried the thrust like it was nothing and pushed up against the duke, bashing his face with their locked hilts before heaving him backward over the foot of the wide bed.
He stepped back as the duke rolled and tried to recover, using the furniture between them to block his advance. Without taking his eyes off his enemy, Alex reached over to his left forearm and slowly pulled the knife free, barely feeling it slide out of his flesh. Scarlet blood dripped from the blade and his leather armband as he tossed the dagger aside. There was room in his mind for only one thought.
D’Amiran stood panting in the center of the room, leaning heavily on the weapon in his hand.
“Where is she?” Alex asked with deadly calm.
The duke smiled, his teeth bloody. “Still looking, are you? Going to kill me, boy? If you do, I won’t be able to tell you about last night.” D’Amiran made an attempt to rally as he spoke, but Alex knocked the sword from his hand with his own before it could finish the weak slashing arc. The duke staggered back into a chair by the bed. Alex brought his blade to D’Amiran’s throat and held it there.
“Where is she?”
“Rather spirited, your little fowler. I had to tie her down.”
Sweet Spirit, no. Alex’s sword began to shake with rage and fear.
“Shall I tell you, boy, how she cried? How she called for you in the hopes you would hear, but by the time I was done with her she was cursing your name?” He leaned forward, coughing blood on his linen shirt. “Shall I?”
Alex forced himself not to imagine it. What mattered was where she was now.
D’Amiran laughed a little, though it took all the breath he had. “How does it feel to have the only thing you truly wanted taken from you, as your mother was taken from me?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Castella Carey was mine. Promised to me. Your father took her. Rather fitting that I should take your little fowler, don’t you think?”
“I’m willing to bet either of them wouldn’t hesitate to cut your balls off.” Alex pressed the point of his sword against the duke’s throat and thrust him against the back of the seat. “And I may just let Sage do it. Now, where is she?”
D’Amiran smiled and lifted his hand to point at the open window. “I would’ve stopped her if I could, but she still had one burst of spirit left in her.”
The vision stunned Alex beyond his ability to function. His sword dropped from his hand, clattering on the stone floor.
“How does it feel, Captain?” D’Amiran gasped triumphantly. “How does it feel to lose?”
The knife slammed into him, piercing his heart.
“I don’t know, Your Grace,” Alex whispered in his ear. “You tell me.” He stepped back, and D’Amiran looked down at the dagger buried in his chest, focusing on the gold initials in the hilt.
“Rather … poetic.” His eyelids fluttered, and his head rolled to the side.
Alex stared at the crimson stain spreading across the dead man’s shirt. Then he turned and stumbled toward the window, a trail of blood leaking from his arm.
87
SAGE AND CASSECK raced upward through the keep, climbing over two bodies on the stairs. The door to the duke’s chamber was charred and bashed open. Inside, Gramwell and two other soldiers were kicking against the inner door. Sage stumbled into the room and tripped across something soft.
Charlie.
She threw herself down and lifted his small face in her hands. “Oh, no! No! No! No!” Sage wailed as she clutched him against her bloody shirt.
The door to the bedchamber gave, whatever blocked it groaning in protest, but she ignored it and continued to hold Charlie to her breast, rocking and crying until she felt Casseck grasp her shoulders from behind. “Sage.” She shook her head. “Sage,” he said again. “He’s gone. There’s nothing you can do.”
Finally, Sage nodded through her tears and kissed the bloody forehead before laying the boy gently back down. She raised her hand for Casseck’s help back to her feet, and he dragged her into the bedchamber.
There was blood all over the floor, some dripping from the duke, sitting lifelessly in a chair, a dagger buried in his chest. Most came from Alex, who was on his knees, bleeding from his left forearm. He stared out of the window several feet away, fighting to remain conscious.
“We have to stop the bleeding. He’s going into shock,” said Gramwell from his side. He yanked the vambrace off Alex’s lower arm and pressed his hands against two gaping wounds on either side.
Sage darted around behind them, jerking the knife out of the body on the chair, grabbing sheets from the bed, cutting and tearing them into usable pieces. She knelt in front of Alex and wrapped the cloth around his arm. The fabric quickly soaked through.
“Alex!” Gramwell released the bloody arm to Sage’s attention and shouted in the captain’s ear. He slapped Alex’s face and turned it toward him. His friend looked back with eyes that struggled to focus. “It’s over! Where are the girls? Where did you hide them?” Gramwell continued to smack his cheeks to keep him from passing out.
“Last place,” Alex mumbled, his voice slurred. “… I saw her.”
Gramwell looked down at Sage. “What does that mean?” He turned to Alex again. “Where, Alex? Where did you put the girls?”
“In the last place…” He blinked. “I saw her alive.” Gramwell sighed in frustration, releasing his face. Alex returned to gazing out of the window.
Sage looked up with sudden understanding. “The laundry sewer—go! Go!” Gramwell dashed out. She turned pleading eyes to Casseck. “Will he be all right?”
Casseck nodded reassuringly. “I’ve seen men survive much worse.” She sobbed in relief, and he reached down to take Alex’s arm so she could let go.
Sage stood on her knees in front of him and grabbed his face in her bloody hands. “Alex, I’m right here! Stay with me! I’m here!”
For a moment he focused on her; then he whispered her name and collapsed unconscious into her arms.