Page 132 of House of Dusk
Yeneris dragged in a steadying breath. Yes. That was who she had been. And perhaps a part of her would always be that ragged, hungry, lonely girl. But she did not belong to Mikat. And not to Sinoe, either. She belonged to herself.
“I’m the person who’s going to stick a sharp blade somewhere very painful if you touch a hair on Sinoe’s head.”
Now, the chill. Mikat narrowed her eyes. “Best take care.” She reached—slowly—into a fold of her robe. Drew out something small and metallic: a dagger barely as long as her palm. “By my reckoning you’ve only got five left.”
It was her own blade. The one she’d planted on the supposed Bassaran spy. The boy. Right before she killed him. Nausea roiled her belly. For a moment she smelled the hot tang of his blood. Felt the sticky squelch of it between her fingers.
“He was a brave lad,” said Mikat. “Almost as good as you. His name was Cirrus.”
Cirrus. Yeneris chiseled the name into her memory. How had Mikat recovered the weapon? She thought of the boy’s body, dumped into some pit. She hoped Mikat had at least given him a proper blessing.
“I didn’t want to do it.”
Mikat shook her head. “Of course not. I know that. Everyone here knows it. You did what you had to do. Because you’re strong. Because I trained you to do hard things.” The dagger winked in the sunlight as Mikat spun it between her fingers. “You care about the girl. I see that. I understand what I’m asking of you.”
“Thendon’t,” Yeneris burst out. “Don’t ask me to choose. Listen to me when I tell you there is a greater enemy than Hierax. One that threatens all the world, not just Bassara.”
“Let them burn. We have the kore now. She will keep us safe.” Mikat snapped shut, tight as an ironclam.
“The way she kept us safe ten years ago?” demanded Yeneris. A pain burst in her chest, to speak the words. But they were true. They were a thorn dug deep in her soul. She honored the kore. The bones were a sacred trust, and she would still do everything she could to ensure Hierax had no chance to abuse them further. But they were not some panacea that would heal every wound. “We need to do more, Mikat. If we truly honor the kore, we need to do what she did. Give everything to protect this world. The Ember King is trying to kill the god-beasts. We need to stop him before he unleashes a second cataclysm.”
Mikat’s lip curled. “We owe this world nothing.”
Maybe Yeneris could reach her, if she had a week. A month. A year. But there was no more time.
A dull pain had begun to beat against her temples. “Then take the kore and go.” With one foot, she nudged the reliquary forward. “But Sinoe is under my protection.”
“I trained you, girl,” scoffed Mikat. “You really think you can best me?”
That was it, then. Yeneris released the last of her hope. It was almost a relief, to let it go. To come back to what she knew best. Her body, honed to a weapon. She crouched, falling into the familiar stance, her muscles tense and ready. “Yes.”
Mikat’s attack was sudden and brutal, a quick punch of blades that sent Yeneris leaping to the side. One slash caught her sleeve. Mikat gave a bark of laughter. “You’re out of practice. Spending too much time making eyes at the princess. Not enough remembering to watch your left flank.”
Another feint and stab, but Yeneris blocked the blow this time, then followed up with a slash of her own.
Mikat evaded it easily, though she gave a nod of concession. “Better. Maybe you haven’t forgotten everything I taught you.”
“I know who I am,” Yeneris panted. “You’re the one who’s lost her way, Mikat. Take the kore and go.”
Mikat’s only answer was a sweeping kick. Yeneris dodged, only to find a blade arcing into her face. She wrenched her own sword to block it, but the blow shuddered through her arm, rattling her bones.
“You know, I once thought you could be another Akoret,” said Mikat. “That was the girl I saved. That was the girl I trained. A true Bassaran, willing to sacrifice anything for her people.”
They traded blows, circling, weaving. Every time Yeneris thought she might have a window of attack, Mikat closed it. Despair began to chew at the edges of her mind. Mikat was quick and strong, and had twenty years more experience. Yeneris could match her speed and strength, but was that enough?
Every trick she knew, Mikat had taught her. There was no way to surprise her, no way to catch her off guard. And the longer this fight ground on, the greater the risk of discovery. “The Helissoni will come looking for us,” she warned.
Mikat drew back so abruptly she thought her warning had worked. Then she caught the furtive movement, a quick snatch to seize a hidden blade and send it streaking at Yeneris.
She blocked it, but the move left her open, and suddenly Mikat was there, pressing close with a flurry of blows that battered her faltering defenses.
Then one final twist, and Yeneris lost her grip, her sword skittering away. She coiled herself, ready to fight back with fist and foot.
But Mikat had spun away, making for the palanquin. For Sinoe.
Yeneris pulled two of her hidden daggers free and flung them at Mikat. One missed entirely. The other whistled past her cheek. Enough to send her ducking to the side. There was no time for relief.
She had her last two blades in hand by the time Mikat recovered. Blood oozed down the woman’s cheek, but she was grinning, triumphant. She hefted her sword and took a pace closer.
