Page 2 of Unrivaled
My fingers found the edge of wooden shutters and fabric someone had added, probably to keep the drafts out whilst being able to take quick looks.
How many boards had they pried loose?
Exactly what was on the other side, I couldn’t be sure.At least two people, and probably Sullivan’s family jewels.
Those belonged to Audrey now.
I raised myself half onto the ledge.If I fell from this height, I’d be in dire straits.But I hadn’t fallen since I’d become a Matri’sion.
There was enough space for me to get up on one knee if I twisted to the side to fit into the gap.With one hand, I felt again along the surface, testing the resilience of those wooden boards.I wasn’t kicking anything in without waking up the entire cluster of looters, and that seemed inefficient.
One of the boards slipped down a little.
I listened past the roar of blood in my ears.Inside, the conversation hadn’t paused.
They’d pried the boards off.The fabric was there to act as a curtain.
They’d cut the rope walkways, but they’d still left themselves ways to escape.
Kaelson had come to Audrey, talking about the ambush the mystery bowman had halted.That mystery bowman had been Audrey.As the Captain, Kaelson needed to concern himself with such matters, especially if this mystery bowman could be used again to forestall the wrath of one of the most influential families in the city.
He couldn’t have known he was asking for help from the lady herself, the one who’d put together and maintained the council that held the city together in the immediate aftermath of the plague, the one who was best positioned to solve the vast array of impending problems including but not limited to the starvation of the entire city’s population.He couldn’t know the woman he’d asked for a sliver of information from about a master archer, the woman disempowered and crushed by the Butcher at every single turn,wasthe master archer.
Audrey had probably tracked those bandits through the streets, too.Unseen.Unthreatened.Their bodies would’ve fallen before they’d known she existed.
If only she’d do the same to her father.
The old, gnawing frustration surprised me.I thought it had faded, its teeth softened by compassion.That was a fight I couldn’t force on her, nor take from her.
Butthisone?These bandits, taking from people who were going to complain to the brutal warlord who had sired her?
Thiswasa battle I could fight for her.
I drew in a few breaths, circulating the power through my limbs, anchoring myself with my back against the cold wall, one foot and knee braced against it, hands empty of weapons though my body still remembered exactly where each of my knives rode and the precise distance from my fingertips to the fletching on the end of my arrows.In the building, I heard some low, calm noises of quiet murmurs.Beside me, the darkness stretched out.In the distance, pools of light served only to highlight the depth of shadow.
For a moment, I felt the heat of the Bloodfire.I was back with the Matri’sion, with my tribe who hadn’t just accepted me, but welcomed me exactly as I was.The Bloodfire chant ran through my mind, the voices of my sisters surrounding me.I am the fury of a mother’s revenge.
I’d spoken, sang, screamed, and cried that line more times than I could count.The other lines had hit me in the heart.I am the breath from my dying sister’s lungs.I am the shattered sword, reforged.I am the wind in the trees.My mother had never protected me.She couldn’t protect herself, so how could she protect me?
But I understood, now.
Audrey made it real.
My fingers found the edge of the boards.I moved quickly, taking the cloth with me, moving forward as I scooped it all to the side.The fabric muffled some of the sounds, and there was enough noise that a few bumps wouldn’t be noticed.
Inside the room, it was a little warmer.The smell of stale beer, polishing oils, and dust were exactly as I’d have predicted had I bothered.Two men, one younger, one older, were scrambling to their feet, drawing in breaths.A jug of beer spilled as they rose and carved wooden pieces from a game skittered over the thick wooden boards.
The younger man’s mouth started to open.
The haft of my knife was cool and balanced.I’d spent so much time holding that steel I didn’t need to settle its weight in my palm.My arm flexed, elbow bent, wrist snapped.My bow, already strung, I left in my quiver.The older man’s cup was still in his hand.
Throwing knives were satisfying, but I’d always liked the heft of a good hunter’s knife.The curved length of it, the way it filled my palm without dragging as a sword would.In my peripheral vision, the younger man was struggling to pull the knife from his throat.
My remaining target ducked the stab I feinted toward him straight into my hand.I grabbed him by the hair.Beer splattered around us, and I moved a foot back as I drew the knife across his neck, avoiding both blood and beer.Beneath my left boot, a game piece crunched.His hair was a little wiry in my hands, his weight falling backward onto me.I let him go in a controlled slide and went to the younger man.
One of his hands rested limply against the hilt of the knife buried in his throat.I brushed it aside, taking stock of my surroundings.
They’d gone for smaller, easier to carry items.Barrels of jewels, gold chains, and coins were stacked with surprising neatness between the pillars.Light pooled.From below, laughter floated up.
