Page 24 of Great Falls Rogue
Tye pauses for one more heartbeat, then curses under his breath as he nods, his lanky body shifting smoothly into a battle stance that makes me think of the tiger hidden inside him. Every muscle coiled, ready to spring into action, fierce green eyes speckled with silver in the sunlight. When he speaks next, the casualness in his voice belies the deadly warrior I know he is about to unleash. “You want right or left flank, lass?”
“Right.”
“It’s yours.” Tye’s unquestioning confidence in me sends a ripple of warmth through my readying muscles. With the discipline born of centuries of combat, the male waits patiently for me to get into position, marks our first target, and signals.
We rush forward as one, scooping up the swinging guard and throwing him into the crowd, which at least has the sense to hang on to the thrashing man. One down, a dozen to go. My heart pounds, my breaths full and deep. Despite the silly amaranth dress, I feel right. Alive. Strong.
The second guardsman we go after is swinging a pitchfork around, the erratic movement managing to clip Tye before he grabs the guard’s arm. “Behind you,” Tye tells me calmly, bending Pitchfork’s wrist hard enough to relieve the man of his weapon.
I turn around in time to see a fist swinging toward my head. Large and muscled and too slow to compete with my immortal body. I parry the blow and shove the idiot against his friend, the pair tripping each other in a tangle of limbs. When I turn back, however, there is a new slew of attacks separating me from Tye. Some—the more intelligent half—seem to have pegged the pair of us as being on Coal’s side and thus viable targets; the others swing blindly at anything in their path.
The scent of fury and sweat thickens the air, the men surrounding me blocking my sight. A few paces away, howls of pain and thuds of wood mark both Coal’s position and the growing casualty toll falling to his staff.
A thick, mustached man with a bleeding brow snarls at me, launching himself forward.
I step off his path and the man falls to the ground. Behind me, someone steps on the hem of my dress, the tug unbalancing me long enough that yet another idiot blunders into the mess, shoving me atop the original mustached man.
The man roars with a fury that says his common sense is long gone. When he grabs for my breast, my own wits disappear as well. Baring my teeth, I lunge at the man’s throat—reining myself back at the last moment to sink my elbow into his nose instead. A spray of blood shoots into the air, splattering my dress and the sand beneath. I roll to my feet in time to find myself a new choice target, men separating from the sidelines to—
A horse’s sharp whinny pierces the air. Dirt flies high from beneath a rearing stallion’s heavy hooves. A shout of warning races through the mob with the speed of wildfire as a familiar horse and rider wade through the fray. Making only marginal attempts to keep his stallion from stepping on anyone in his way, River rides right into the center of the crowd. He’s magnificent—and terrifying. His eyes are hardened steel, every angle of his face tightened in anger, his shoulders square under his crisp red jacket. The same men who refused to step aside for their sergeants’ orders and Coal’s deadly blows scurry like cockroaches from the horse’s hooves. Even Tye rolls over his shoulder to make way.
Stars.Within seconds of River riding his horse into the rioting circle, the fighting is finished, Coal swinging his staff against empty air.
The deputy headmaster’s gray eyes flash with thunder as he surveys the scene from his stallion’s high saddle. No fewer than two dozen guards, plus Tye and me, are in some state of disreputable dishevelment, a good portion of the would-be mob having some injury to show for the experience. I tense when River’s eyes brush mine, flashing with an icy fury that says I’ve disregarded the wrong male’s orders.
Raising his voice, he bellows for three of the guardsmen’s sergeants, the noise making me flinch. The men stretch out before him so quickly, I’m not sure they’ve dared take a breath since their summons.
“Everyone, take a knee,now,” River demands in the tone of a general who knows he’ll be obeyed—and is. Even Coal, his staff still in hand, stops swinging to kneel on the dirt. My body moves to obey before my mind catches up to my motions, the power of River’s demand reverberating through every fiber.
In a moment, the training yard rings with silence.
Turning his horse back to the sergeants, River keeps his voice loud enough to be heard by all. “Take the injured to the infirmary. Everyone else can cool off in lockup until I say otherwise. No exceptions.”
4
Lera
Iflinch as a metal grating slams into place behind me.
Tye is already striding forward into the large damp cell where the two of us have been relegated, broad shoulders relaxed under his gray tunic, which now has a long tear down the front. He looks down at it, snorts softly, and pulls the thing off, muscles flaring in the dim light. Having once been an active fortress, the Academy’s central keep has a dungeon serious enough to hold prisoners of a major battle. A pair of slits near the ceiling provide entrance points for sunbeams, the light drawing two sharp lines on the uneven stone floor. Our cell is about ten paces on each side, with numerous manacles bolted to the wall and hanging down from the ceiling.
At first, I think the accommodations are intended to hold many people at once and then…then I notice a hinged wooden table in the center of the room, a rack holding leather lashes standing not far away. Bile crawls up my throat. The guards didn’t throw Tye and me into just any cell—they chose the interrogation chamber.Riverchose the interrogation chamber.
Clapping my palms over my mouth to keep from losing my breakfast into the dark spattered drain, I press myself into the corner. My breath quickens, drawing lungfuls of stale, moldy air that feels like it hasn’t been inhaled in decades—and it probably hasn’t. River’s ice-cold gaze pierces me over and over, mingling with the bruises I saw him leave on Tye’s flesh a month ago. With the violence I know he doesn’t hesitate to dole out.
A new shiver grips my throat as I wonder if the room itself is River’s warning of what’s to come. The echo of a leather belt’s tiny whistle a moment before it lashes across my back fills my memories, Zake’s furious face towering over me. Morphing to River’s. Bile burns my throat anew.
“Stop that, lass,” Tye says lightly, though he doesn’t look in my direction, as if giving me space to calm down. Whistling a lilting tune, he tests the grating, then perches on the torture table as if it were a bench set there for his convenience. “These are just accommodations. And not the worst ones either, so far as these things go.”
Tye would know. At least the real Tye would, having spent a good deal of his life in and out of lockup before the quint magic’s call connected him to River and the others. Has this Tye’s veil-magic-spun life sent him into trouble as well?
I swallow, trying to focus on that thought. On anything except where we are. What someone might do to us here.
Soft footsteps tap the stone, then Tye is before me with a whisper of warm air, brushing a lock of my hair off my face. His beautiful sharp face and emerald eyes fill my vision—eyes that see more than I’d like. His silver earring winks in the low light. “Think logically for a moment, lass,” he says gently. “If someone intended to hurt us, they’d hardly give us access to weapons.”
“Weapons?” I ask.
Tye waves at the rack of whips before stepping away from me a little too quickly. Aside from teaming up in the fight, we’ve not exchanged more than a few words in the month since our coupling in the bathhouse. Tye has his reasons and I have mine, which doesn’t make missing my friend—my male—any less painful.
