Page 47 of The Warrior Priest
I ran off along the street, only to stop as four more constables approached, swords drawn. I turned and ran the other way. Another four constables blocked my exit.
Behind me, Giselle swore. When I turned to see why, she’d almost disappeared into a building. A back door would give her the means of escape.
I, however, was trapped.
My arrest was pathetically swift. I did manage to throw one punch, but it hurt my knuckles and didn’t seem to affect my target’s jaw. It didn’t even break his skin. He simply snorted and made sure to wrench my arm hard behind my back as another fished inside my shirt. He squeezed my chest, only to pout in disappointment at the bandage covering my breasts. He pulled out the pendant, broke the chain then pocketed it.
He replaced the chain with a leash and tied a length of rope around my wrists behind me. He tugged on the rope end and ordered me to move.
The other constables weren’t required but they flanked me as if I were the city’s most dangerous criminal. Minnow stood in the doorway of her house, a hand at her throat, her brow furrowed. I gave my head a slight shake. I didn’t want anyone to know she’d been protecting me.
It soon became clear that I’d been betrayed by one of the young whores who came and went from Minnow’s house. She must have seen me there. She watched our procession pass by, a hand on her hip, the other hand out to collect her reward. The constable who’d arrived first directed her to go to the council office the following day to collect. She didn’t meet my gaze.
There was no sight of Giselle. I didn’t expect there to be. She had her own skin to save. She wouldn’t want the burden of saving mine, too.
“Where are you taking me?” I tried to sound defiant and brave but the tremble in my voice betrayed me.
“Holding cell,” said the one pulling on the leash.
“Governor’s orders,” added another.
I wouldn’t be in the holding cell for long. My uncle wanted the pendant, not me. Once he verified it was the right one, he had no further use for me. It would be an acceptable explanation to claim I’d died in custody after attempting to escape. No one would question it except Rhys, and he had no authority to do anything about it.
Rhys. Losing a friend so soon after the loss of Tomaj would be a heavy blow.
The walk to the sheriff’s holding cells was quite a distance. We passed through more slums, skirted the market area, and approached the park from the west. The vast expanse was a beautiful spot for picnics and walks in the light of day, where lovers met in the dim evening, and the homeless slept on dark nights.
It was that darkness that made it an excellent place for Rhys and his men to hide until the moment was right.
As our procession passed, three warrior priests emerged from the shadowy depths with no warning, as if magic had conjured them. Led by Rhys in all his ferocious glory, sword in hand, who blocked the road ahead, with Rufus and Andreas flanking him. A horse in the park snuffled and a bridle clanked. Vizah must be with their mounts, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
“Let him go and no one will be harmed,” Rhys ordered.
The constables drew their swords. The one holding me audibly gulped, but he was also the only one to respond. “Step aside, Priest. This is not your affair.”
“Let. Him. Go.”
One of the constables snickered. “Him? You meanher.”
“Is sheyourwoman?” asked another. “I knew you priests weren’t as righteous as you pretended to be. No man is.”
Andreas broke rank and charged at the constables. Rhys ordered Rufus to back him up, then he plunged into the fray himself. He came for the constable holding me with a wildness in his eyes and a snarl on his lips.
I’d seen them practicing, but this was different. Lives were at stake. The constables intended to kill. They knew they were within their rights to defend themselves. There would be no retreat when they beat their opponent, no shaking of hands and starting over.
But the constables didn’t gain an advantage. Not even for a moment. Rhys’s blade nicked the hand of one of the constables, causing him to drop his sword with a cry of pain. Rhys forged a path to me, using his body to push aside any constable who got too close, sending them into the path of Rufus or Andreas where they were swiftly disarmed. Twice more, Rhys cut a constable’s sword hand. He kicked another in the stomach, winding him. Rhys dispatched them all, with Rufus and Andreas cleaning up behind him, gathering dropped swords and forcing the constables onto their knees.
The one holding the leash around my neck pulled on it, hard. The cord burned, biting into my skin, my windpipe. I couldn’t breathe. My body slammed against the constable’s and his arm wrapped around me, pinning me. I couldn’t even move my hands to crush his balls in my fist.
“Come any closer and she dies,” he snarled.
Rhys adjusted his grip on the sword. He lowered himself into a fighting stance.
“No, Rhys!” Rufus shouted. “Don’t!”
Don’t kill him, he meant.
If he did, the sheriff could arrest him. Not even Merdu’s Guards were immune from a murder charge if there was enough evidence. And there were seven witnesses lined up on the side of the road who would testify.
