Queen of the Night (The Revanche Cycle Book 4) (30 page)

At the top of the stairs, the glint of a crossbow. The bolt shot over the attackers’ heads, past Mari, and speared Nessa’s leg. She cried out and slumped against the wall, the knife dropping from her convulsing fingers as she clutched at her wound.

“I won’t go,” Hedy was shouting. “I won’t leave you!”

“Hedy,
obey
me—” Nessa took a labored breath. “Mari, get her out of here! Saving Hedy is all that matters!”

Biting her bottom lip, with her arms burning and sweat matting her tangled hair, Mari batted aside another blade and sliced her attacker open from his neck to his belly. He fell, shrieking and kicking on the stairs, a living obstacle the men behind him had to clamber over. That bought her a few precious seconds.

Nessa was down, her leg useless, mere feet from the hovering void. Hedy, eyes wet with terrified tears, clung to her arm.
First Hedy
, Mari thought as she sheathed her sickles and ran to the bottom of the staircase,
then I drag Nessa through
. She wrenched Hedy’s grip from Nessa’s arm and took her by the shoulders.

“Go,” she said. “We’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

“You don’t understand, you’re going to die—”

“
Hedy
.”

For a moment, the world stood still. The sounds of battle muted, as if underwater, and the shadows looming at Mari’s back moved in slow motion. Mari looked Hedy in the eyes and held her shoulders tight.

“We love you,” Mari said. “Now
go
.”

She shoved Hedy backward, as hard as she could, sending her tumbling into the void.

Then the pommel of a sword smashed across the back of her head, driving her to her knees and flooding her vision with stars. As she collapsed to the basalt floor, she saw the portal sealing fast and vanishing, leaving her and Nessa behind.

Everything went black.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Aita strode through the halls of her family estate, eyes as bright as her golden gown. Her men followed her, a pack of thugs and killers squeezed into ill-fitting finery.

“Gardener’s blood,” one said, rubbing at his arms, “why are all the windows open? It’s colder than a nun’s tits in here.”

“A little surprise. Thank you all for coming to my party. I think you’ll find, with the Imperials at the gates—and ready to storm the city at any moment, if they haven’t started already—that my home is the safest place in Mirenze. I’ve prepared the guest suites, and you are all invited to weather the coming storm in the luxury your hard work has earned.”

“Grateful for that,” another said, “but what happens when they show up and kick the doors in? How do you know the Imperials won’t ransack this place?”

Aita paused at the ballroom’s double doors, turning to favor them with a smile.

“Because I’ve been in communication with the Empire since this entire mess began. Ensuring them that I—and the newly-appointed officers of the Banco G-R, meaning you gentlemen—are loyal to the Empire, repudiate the deeds of the traitor Lodovico Marchetti, and stand ready to do our civic duty and
rebuild
this great city.”

A man in the back let out a low whistle. “Bold. Lotta money in rebuilding?”

“More than we’ll be able to count. Make no mistake: war is good for business. Once the Empire asserts control, turning Mirenze back into a client state, they’ll need any damage repaired and the wheels of commerce turning as quickly as possible. After all, a ruined city can’t pay tribute. We won’t just dip our fingers into the feeding trough; we’ll go elbows-deep.”

“Sounds good, but what if Lodovico finds out you went behind his back?”

Aita touched her fingers to her bodice and let out a tiny chuckle.

“Please. The Imperials will crush his ‘citizens’ militia,’ and I don’t doubt his mercenaries will flee for the hills once they realize it’s an unwinnable fight. If Lodovico is even still alive come sunrise, he’ll be in a cage waiting for his execution.” She turned, resting one delicate hand on the ballroom door. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. And it’s time for the first of many surprises tonight, which I believe will delight and entertain you.”

She threw open the doors, leading the procession inside. The guests fanned out behind her, taking in the sights: the long feast table, laden with food and bottles of imported wine, pristine porcelain and crystal glittering under the light of twin chandeliers.

And the table’s centerpiece, Felix Rossini, with hands tied behind his back and his head in a wire noose.

He stood in a washbasin upon a slab of ice. His shoe started to slip, sliding sideways, and he struggled to keep his footing before the noose could cut into his neck. One of Aita’s followers stepped up to the table, eyeing him like an animal at the zoo.

“Is that…?”

“Gentlemen,” Aita said, “meet the source of our recent ills. My soon-to-be ex-husband, Felix. I wanted to give him a memorable send-off. Now you see why the house is so cold. Believe me, I conducted exhaustive testing, working out the perfect timing. Right now, he’s merely…inconvenienced. But as the ice slowly melts, one drop at a time, it will slip from under his feet. Leaving the noose to strangle and slice into his noble throat. He’ll struggle, he won’t be able to help it—that’s my Felix, fighting until the end—but that’ll just make it worse. I estimate he has a good…oh, four or five hours of suffering ahead, with each passing second worse than the one before.”

A guest swiped a bottle of wine from the table, yanking the cork with his teeth and spitting it onto the floor. “Damn, Aita. I’d have just bashed his brains in and called it a day. You really know how to hurt a guy.”

Aita laughed, a faint blush on her cheeks. She took a glass from the table and held it out, expectant, and a servant rushed over to fill it from a decanter of spring water. Then she locked eyes with Felix as he silently glared daggers at her.

“Oh, I haven’t started to hurt him yet. Like I said, more entertainment to come.” She raised her glass high. “Drink up, gentlemen, and celebrate. Here’s to our shared fortunes in the year to come. The Imperials may rule the day, but
we are the night
. This city belongs to
us
.”

They drank, and reveled, and ate, while more guests and latecomers arrived. Aita’s servants came and went with fresh plates and more bottles of wine, their pale faces averted from the man in the noose. Aita reclined in a high-backed chair set toward the back of the room, away from the feasting table; there she conversed quietly with one guest at a time, discussing business in low tones as she cradled her crystal goblet.

Renzo, one of her new lieutenants, was the most recent arrival. She hadn’t expected the brute to dress properly for the party, but his dirty peasant clothes—one sleeve dark with somebody else’s blood—made her arch an eyebrow.

“Well, I didn’t exactly have time t’ dress up pretty,” he told her. “It’s happenin’ right now. Imperials hammered down the south gate and started kickin’ tail all over the place. I barely got here in one piece.”

Behind him, Aita saw Gallo Parri arrive, his mute boy carrying a wrapped gift box in his hands. She gave them a polite smile and a wave, then turned back to Renzo.

“Good,” she said. “Soonest begun is soonest done. How’s the patriotic resistance faring?”

“Like a raw steak in a meat grinder, how d’ya think? And in all the blood and smoke, I kept seeing…
them
. Messin’ with the dead bodies.”

Aita tilted her head. “Them?”

“You know.” Renzo put one hand to the side of his mouth, leaning in. “
Them
. Those creepy bitches in the lace veils.”

“We are properly referred to,” said the woman hovering just behind him, “as the Sisterhood of the Noose.”

Renzo froze as the color drained from his face.

“I’m gonna,” he stammered, “I’m gonna go pour myself a drink now. Over there.”

“Enjoy,” Aita said, holding in a chuckle until he awkwardly edged away, all but running to the other side of the ballroom. She reached out and took the sister’s hand in greeting. Gloved fingers coiled sinuously around hers, five writhing snakes wrapped in gray velvet.

“He speaks the truth,” the sister said. “The invasion has begun.”

“And Lodovico?”

“Sits in the governor’s manse, looking out upon his folly and dreaming himself a king. He will be dead by morning.”

Aita’s eyebrows lifted. “Your work?”

“No. He has paid us. We will not harm him. Nonetheless, he will be dead by morning.”

“I’ll take your word for it, then. Would you like to stay for the party?”

The sister turned her head, her veiled gaze slowly sweeping from one side of the banquet table to the other, then back to Aita.

“I should not.” She looked to the ballroom doors. “Besides, you have more interesting guests arriving.”

Aita turned her attention to the doors, where a pair of uncomfortable-looking servants led in her last arrivals to the party: Lydda and Sykes, with Renata—her hands secured before her in sturdy manacles—walking sullenly between them. The bounty hunters surveyed the room with hungry eyes. Lydda’s mammoth driftwood crossbow shifted on her back as she put a hand on one hip.

“Oh,” Aita called out, “Felix, look. Your fiancée is here.”

She studied the wash of emotions on his face as he looked to Renata, straining in his noose. Elation, fear, anticipation. He was a book with open pages. Renata was better at this game. Her expression was a card-player’s mask, but there was no mistaking the nervous energy in her shoulders, the ready-to-fight bounce in her walk.

“The second surprise of the evening,” Aita said, capturing her guests’ attention. “Renata Nicchi, Felix’s lady love. We can’t send him into the afterlife alone, now can we? That’d be cruel.”

Over the chortles of the crowd, Felix shouted, “Let her go, Aita! This was between you and me.”

“It still is. People need to learn what happens when they cross me.” Aita fixed her gaze upon the guests. “And what happens, to be perfectly clear, is that you get to watch while everyone you love is skinned alive. And after I’ve destroyed all that you hold dear and all that you’ve ever cared about, after I’ve burned your entire world to the ground and salted the soil, then I
might
allow you to die.”

Some of the laughter faded, her lieutenants sharing nervous glances. They’d gotten the message.

“Hear me and understand,” Aita said softly. “I am in control of all things.”

“That’s what
you
think,” Renata snapped—then froze. Her eyes went wide, almost bulging, as she looked down at her manacled wrists. She gave them another tug. Nothing.

“She thought they were gonna be unlocked,” Lydda said, snickering.

Sykes shook his head at Renata. “Told you, kid. Told you we might switch sides if Aita made us a better offer. And that day we met with her at the Duke’s Bequest, that’s exactly what she did. There was never gonna be a rescue. We were just walking you straight to your grave.”

“For the record,” Aita said, holding up three fingers, “that’s surprise number three.”

Sykes pointed at Gallo and Achille. “They’re in on it too.”

Aita’s men fell upon them, grappling their arms and yanking the gift box from Achille’s hands, patting them down. They pulled a long boning knife from Gallo’s boot and a thumb-length blade hidden behind Achille’s belt, tossing the weapons onto the banquet table. Aita looked up to Felix, shaking her head at the look of desperate terror on his face, and spread her arms wide.

“I told you, Felix. There is no hope here.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“You
bastards
,” Renata spat, kicking at Lydda. She laughed and stepped out of the way, gripping Renata by the forearm.

“Bring them here.” Aita eased back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other.

“Careful now,” Lydda said as they dragged Renata close, “she’s a feisty one.”

Aita’s lieutenants hauled over Gallo and Achille, keeping their arms pinned tight behind their backs. Aita gave them a passing glance, then turned to Renata.

“So, we meet at last. The famous Renata Nicchi. You don’t look like I expected you to.”

“What did you expect?” Renata asked.

Aita frowned. “I don’t know. A ravishing beauty. The kind of face that could make men go to war. Instead, you’re just…an ordinary barmaid. You’ve got cheap clothes and callused hands, and you wear every year of hard labor on your skin. You’re not
un
attractive; you’re just…average. You’re
common
. I’m not sure what he sees in you.”

“Maybe there’s more to a person than what’s on the surface. After all, look at you. All that natural beauty, your golden hair, your expensive gown and your riches.” Renata’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “And you’re the ugliest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Aita’s lips curled in a thinly amused smile.

“He really did go to war for you, you know. Never seen a man with that much fire in his heart. But…all wars end, and they always end badly for someone. It’s a shame. I like your spark, Renata. I’d like to think, in another life, in another place, we might have been fast friends. Your death will be very slow, and very painful, but it will not be personal. Please try to understand that.”

She turned away, looking Gallo up and down.

“And what’s your story, oh prince of thieves?” she asked. “What’d I do, kill your family?”

“I was just here to help the lass out. Try to set things right.” Gallo took a deep breath. “I said she’d be the death of me.”

“An astute observation. So what was the plan? Renata’s shackles come off, the two of you charge me with those little knives, and…then what? Did you actually think any part of this grand scheme through?”

“They were carrying Renata’s weapons,” Sykes said, nodding. “In the gift box.”

Aita chuckled and clapped her hands, waving for one of her lieutenants to hand it over. The box, wrapped in delicate gray tissue and a silver bow, rested on her lap.

“Oh my. I do love presents. Let’s see what you were going to kill me with.”

She pulled back the lid. It came up stiffly, as if fitted too tight.