Page 11 of Quicksilver
He was good. Really good. My feet kicked up the sand as I spun around, working constantly to make sure he didn’t get through my guard.
He lunged, trying to strike at my ribcage, but I brought the butt of my dagger crashing down on his forearm, shattering bone. Without even flinching, the fucker grabbed the hilt of his sword in his other hand and delivered a battery of blows that nearly sent me to my knees. A bright sting of pain flared across my chest as he slashed across my collarbone.
I saw the smile at the corners of his eyes. He thought he had me. And he nearly did. His sword sliced through the air—a backhanded stroke that took me off guard—but I’d trained for this. He wasn’t the only one who could think fast. Definitely wasn’t the only one who couldmovefast, either.
I dropped and tucked myself into a roll, slashing up with my dagger as I did so. The blade found its mark, and it was done. Just like that.
He didn’t notice at first. Spinning, he rounded to meet me again. It was only when he tried to take a step forward and his legs went out from beneath him that he realized something was wrong.
I’d thought about leaving the dagger embedded in his leg. That would have given him a couple more moments to process his death. But in the end, the deep gash I’d carved inside his thigh was kinder. Quicker. Dark, ruby-red blood pumped out of the wound I’d inflicted in great waves, running down his leg. He glanced down at the sight of it, huffing out a breath of surprise. And then he toppled forward into the sand, dead.
My chest heaved. I fought for breath, trying to silence the maddening rushing in my ears. I—
“Foolish girl,” a cold voice intoned. It was the captain who had ordered his men to restrain me. He had turned away from Hayden, his attention fully on me. “I admit, I didn’t think you’d be capable of taking a gauntlet from a guardian. I see that I was wrong now.”
The street came back into focus. The phalanx of guardians, all glowering at me, swords raised. And Hayden. My little brother. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at me, stricken dumb by what I’d just done.
“Saeris, run!” he hissed.“Go!”
But the captain laughed. “All four winds combined couldn’t carry her far enough from my reach now, boy. She just killed two of the Queen’s guards and maimed another. Her death warrant’s already signed.”
“No! Stop! Take me! I’m the one who stole—" Hayden rushed forward, trying to block the captain’s path, but the man shoved him roughly to the sand.
“For better or worse, she just saved your life, wretch. Don't waste your life by laying hands on a guardian, too.”
The phalanx marched toward me, and I saw the captain was right. I couldn’t outrun this now. They were going to take me. They were going to kill me for what I’d done. But there was still a chance for my brother. “It'll all be okay, Hayden,” I called to him. "Go and see the old man. He'll let you stay with him now. Go on, go. I'll be back by dinner, I promise.” It was a bald-faced lie, but any false hope I could give him was better than nothing. I needed him to believe that this might all blow over. If he didn't, he'd never do as I told him. He'd follow us all the way to the gates, screaming and shouting and demanding that I be set free. “Did you hear me? Find the old man, Hayden. It's important. Go to him. Tell him what’s happened. He needs to know.”
Hayden’s face was streaked with tears. “I'm not leaving you.”
“Just do as you're told for once in your life! Just fuckinggo!I don't need your help. I don'twantyou following after me, blubbering like a little brat who needs his hand held all of the time.” It was harsh, but sometimes the cruel things we said served the kindest purpose.
Anger flared in Hayden's eyes, just as I'd hoped it would. He set his jaw, his arms falling to his sides, and my bag dropped to the sand. “I didn’t realize I was such a burden,” he whispered.
“Well, you are, Hayden. Your entire fucking life, that's all you've been. Now leave me alone. Don't follow. Donotcome looking for me.GO!”
4
THE PRICE
I usedto dream about visiting the palace when I was a child. I'd fantasize that I'd be chosen somehow, stopped in the street and told that Queen Madra had noticedme, a common street rat from the Third, and had decided she wanted me as a lady's maid. I'd be given beautiful dresses to wear and exotic flowers for my hair, and I'd have hundreds of bottles of perfume to choose between. Every day, I would dine with the queen, and chefs from the north would treat us to feasts‚ our plates overflowing with mouthwatering food. Never once would we have to eat the same meal twice. I'd drink only the best wine from Madra's stores, because I would have been the Queen's favorite, naturally, and she would want only the finest, nicest things for her favorite lady's maid.
As I'd grown older, the daydreaming had evolved. I was still chosen to be Madra's lady's maid, but I'd cared less about the dresses and the food. I'd wanted the position,neededto be Madra's favorite, but not so I'd be lifted out of poverty to be kept like a novel pet. I'd suffered too much by then. Known too much injustice. Seen such unspeakable acts of violence that all of my innocence had been washed away. I'd needed to be chosen by thequeen so that I could get close enough tokillher. I fantasized about how I would do it each night when I closed my eyes. When my mother was slain in the streets and left to rot, those fantasies were all that kept me sane.
I'd plotted a million different ways to secure myself an audience with the eternal virgin, our lady of Zilvaren, most revered Queen on high. From applying for a job in the kitchens to learning how to perform in the traveling theater that visited the city during Evenlight to scaling the walls and breaking into the palace, I'd planned every minute possibility and eventuality and decided that itcouldbe done, and itwouldbe done. Byme.
I never thought I'd find myself within the palace confines under these circumstances, with my hands bound tightly behind my back, ribs bruised and cracked, and a violet bruise blossoming like a death flower beneath my right eye. I wasn't supposed to be gasping for air in a tiny, windowless box, with a river of sweat running down my back for six hours straight.Thishad not been the plan at all.
Captain Harron—I'd learned this was the bastard's name—had tossed me unceremoniously into the tiny cell to await the Queen, and I'd been pacing up and down the length of the six-foot-long cell ever since, counting the minutes that passed by until they turned into hours. I was counting for counting's sake now, purely so I could shut out the dark thoughts that had been assailing me since my arrival. I wouldn't be any use to anybody if I let fear take root and panic to set in.
The city bells were ringing, signaling day’s end, when Captain Harron finally came back for me. My mouth felt like it was full of sand, and I was almost delirious from the heat, but I kept my back straight and my chin raised high as he entered the cell. His gleaming, beautiful armor was gone, replaced by a well-oiled leather chest plate, but the menacing sword with the cloth-wrapped grip still sat at his hip, his short sword sheathed at theother side. Adopting a casual lean up against the wall, he tucked his thumbs into his belt, and he looked me up and down; he didn't seem all that impressed by what he saw. “Where did you learn to fight like that?” he demanded.
“Just hang me already and be done with it,” I snapped. “If you don't hurry up and get on with it, you’re gonna miss your opportunity.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn't bother trying to escape.”
I rolled my eyes. “I meant that I was dying ofboredomin here.”
Captain Harron let out a mirthless laugh. “Apologies for the delay. Don't worry. The Queen has plenty of ways of entertaining herguests.She just had some matters to attend to, and she wanted to make sure she could give you her full attention.”
