Page 117 of The Study of Poisons
Valek checked the dead man’s pocket, pulling out the keys. Then he drew the lantern closer. The other guard’s surprised yelp was followed by the unmistakable crunch of bone hitting a hard surface. With luck, Yelena had killed him. Good. Valek lit the lantern and unlocked his cell.
Yelena stared at the dead man in horror. Her wild hair, freed from her ever-present braid, had pieces of straw clinging to the black strands. Her uniform was stained with filth and dirt streaked her face. Beautiful.
He checked both guards, confiscating their weapons. They each had a dagger and a short sword. He kept the knives. Depending on how many guards had been assigned this shift, the next bit could be tricky.
“Wait here,” Valek said to Yelena as he unlocked the door.
He yanked it open. Three men sat around a table playing cards. They paused mid-deal to gawk. Valek charged the closest person, knocking him off his chair and stabbing him in the heart on their way to the floor. He leapt to his feet as the other two men shouted, scrambled upright, and drew their weapons. Valek parried one thrust, dodged another before stepping in close and plunging his blade into the guard’s neck.
The last guard pointed his sword’s tip at Valek’s gut and lunged. Twisting so the blade missed his torso, Valek punched the man in the face so hard the guard dropped his weapon. The satisfaction over the sound and feel of the impact of his knuckles on flesh ignited Valek’s blood-lust. He threw a left hook followed by an uppercut to the guard’s jaw and finished with a knife-hand to his throat. Rendered unconscious, the guard toppled to the floor.
Giving Yelena the all-clear signal, Valek strode to the door to the manor house while she headed straight for her backpack lying on a table. He tried different keys on the ring, but none of them worked. “Damn.”
“What?” Yelena asked.
“The captain has the only key to this door. He will open it when it’s time to change the guards.”
“Try these.” She handed Valek a set of lock picks from her pack.
Nice. He grinned and set to work. Dungeon locks tended to be complex and much harder to pop. Normally he used a different type of pick, but these would work. It would just take more time.
As he eased the various pins up, Yelena headed to the wash barrel and splashed water. No surprise she wished to wash off the grime from her hands and face. Although the continued sloshing sounded as if she’d jumped into the barrel. At one point, she handed him a glass of water. Suddenly thirsty, he downed it in a few swallows.
Eventually, the tumbler turned, pulling the bolt from the jam. He eased open the door and peered into the hallway. “Perfect. No guards.” He swung it wide. “Let’s go.” Taking Yelena’s hand and a lantern, Valek returned to the dungeon. He also left that door ajar.
“Are you insane?” Yelena whispered. She dragged her feet. “Freedom’s that way.” She pointed to the guard’s room.
He unlocked the last cell on the right and ushered her inside. “Trust me. This is the perfect hiding spot. The mess we left will soon be discovered; the open doors proof we’ve fled. Search parties will be sent out. When all the soldiers have left the manor, we’ll make our move. Until then, we lay low.”
Valek tried to make them a comfortable bed with the straw. He built it in the far-right corner. Thank fate the cells were divided by stone walls instead of bars. A guard would have to travel all the way to the end to spot them. He extinguished and hid the lantern, then pulled Yelena to lie beside him.
Shivering and soaking wet, she kept her back to him. He understood her need to wash the filth from her body, but now he also had to keep her warm so she didn’t get sick. He wouldn’t mind the physical contact at all, but he was uncertain of her reaction. He covered them with some extra straw for warmth and concealment, then wrapped an arm around Yelena, pulling her close to him.
She stiffened and he prepared to let her go. But she relaxed into him, and he silently rejoiced. Their shared warmth spread to his heart. Valek savored every moment that she lay in his arms, knowing it’d probably never happen again. She trusted him enough to confide in him, but that didn’t mean she trusted him with her heart.
Yelena jerked when the guards discovered the open doors. They shouted and cursed and blamed each other. It would have been amusing if they’d been in a more secure location. The possibility of being discovered kept them both tense.
Eventually Brazell and Mogkan arrived. They barked orders for search parties to be organized and sent out right away, guessing the fugitives had an hour head start.
“Valek’s probably retreating west to well-known territory,” Brazell said.
“Southisthe logical choice,” Mogkan argued. “We have the Commander; there’s nothing they can do. They’re running for their lives, not toward some strategic position. I’ll take a horse and scan the forest with my magic.”
Offended, he whispered in Yelena’s ear, “They actually think I would abandon the Commander. They have no concept of loyalty.” At least, it appeared they’d fallen for his ruse. The dungeon soon emptied of people, and they’d left the doors open, allowing a faint light into their cell.
Yelena grew restless after a couple hours. “Can we go now?” she asked.
“Not yet. I believe it’s still daylight. We’ll wait until dark.” Otherwise, they’d be spotted right away.
“How did you become involved with the Commander?” she asked.
He hesitated. It was a long, complex story that he’d only shared with Ambrose. Yet, she’d trusted him with her history, it was only fair for him to reciprocate. “My family lived in Icefaren Province before it was renamed MD–1. A particularly harsh winter collapsed the building that housed my father’s leather business, ruining all of his equipment. He needed to replace his equipment to stay in business, but the soldiers who came to our house to collect the tax money wouldn’t listen to reason.” His body tightened around her. Why had he chosen to start his story at that point in his life? Why not when he’d met the Commander?
Too late now. “I was just a skinny little kid at the time, but I had three older brothers. They were about Ari’s size and had his strength. When my father told the soldiers that if he paid the full tax amount, he wouldn’t have enough money left to feed his family…” Valek paused as the memory dug its icy claws deep into his heart. “They killed my brothers. They laughed and said, ‘Problem solved. Now you have three less mouths to feed.’” The claws pulled and tugged, trying to rend his heart into pieces. His muscles trembled at the unexpected strength of his emotions.
“Naturally, I wanted revenge, but not on the soldiers. They were only messengers. I wanted the King. The man who had allowed his soldiers to murder my brothers in his name. So, I learned how to fight, and I studied the assassin’s art until I was unbeatable. I traveled around, using my new skills to earn money. The royal upper class was so corrupt they paid me to kill each other.
“Then I was commissioned to kill a young man named Ambrose, whose speeches called for rebellion and made the royals nervous. He’d become popular, gathering large crowds. People started to resist the King’s doctrines. Then Ambrose disappeared, hiding his growing army and employing covert operations against the monarchy.
