Shattered Assassin (21 page)

“Now what?” she muttered, edging next to the door and peering inside. Derock stood next to a stall, his hand on the hilt of his sword as his eyes moved from the door to the window and on to the back door. There was no way to get in there. She’d have to steal a different horse, and the thought made her feel achingly alone. Harousse was all she had left, but it didn’t matter. If she didn’t get out of there,
now
, she was going to be caught and who knew what they would try to do to her — probably kill her. Her people would be caught in the middle of a war for her throne. She couldn’t let that happen. She spun away, running for the fenced paddock, leaping from shadow to shadow. She sprang over the fence and landed on the other side, crouching low to the ground while she surveyed the horses running loose.

And froze.

Harousse?

It
was
Harousse! What in the world was she doing loose? She had paid the man to keep her safe! And if Harousse was out here, who was Derock guarding inside? She shook her head. Too many questions and she didn’t have time to figure out answers. Instead she leaped to her feet and raced across the field. Harousse, catching her scent or responding to her frantic whispers or whatever it was horses do, lifted her big head and loped over.

Kazia didn’t hesitate, grabbing the mane and flinging herself onto Harousse’s back. “Hee- ya!” Kazia dug her heels into her horse’s flanks and Harousse leaped forward into a run, racing straight for the fence. It was tall, higher than the one they had leaped the day before.

“Harousse?” But the big horse didn’t seem intimidated in the least, in fact was picking up speed, and Kazia squealed and ducked low over Harousse’s neck, trying to make herself as inconsequential as possible. Harousse soared over the fence like she had grown wings. They landed hard on the other side, but Harousse didn’t hesitate, running hard for the road out of town as if she had read Kazia’s mind. Kazia just buried her fists in the thick mane and held on, risking a glance over her shoulder as they raced away. But no one followed. Tiny dots that had to be her guards were only just now racing for the stables. Breathing a grim sigh of relief, she ducked low again and held on tight.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

_A
S THE MOON ROSE ABOVE
the trees, she guided Harousse off the main road and slowed her to a walk. The big horse loved to run, and Kazia was very grateful for that. Otherwise, she probably would have never escaped her guards. Or William’s castle. Or the wolves. But Harousse had to get them home after Kazia finished her job — finding Braydton and punishing him for killing her family. The fact that he had only been acting on his father’s wishes didn’t escape Kazia, but she kept pushing it away. It was not a fact she wished to acknowledge. Killing the guilty, deserving threats to her kingdom hurt much less than considering that they were only a pawn in a larger war. A war she had already won. But she had lost everything to win it. Her parents, her brother, Randolf, Nakomi, Luke…

She flashed back to that night a lifetime ago when she hid in the armoire and Nakomi fought her attacker, protecting her. She’d told Luke she couldn’t remember, and she’d outright lied. She wanted vengeance, and allowing her guard to arrest her uncle wouldn’t have sated the blood-thirst.
I had to pretend, Luke. You never would have let me go after them if I hadn’t.
She had grown up with Braydton, so the second she heard him swear at Nakomi, she had known. The shock had nearly overwhelmed her completely — he was family! But it wouldn’t happen again. This time, he would die.

The moon was half-full, so she had just enough light to guide Harousse across the rocky mountain side, keeping her eyes sharp for the markers hidden along the path. She hadn’t been here since she was small, when her father had brought Brodi and Luke and Braydton hunting and let her tag along. She had spent her days target shooting, and it was on her way home that she had found Nakomi.

The thought shot pain through her chest so sharp she gasped and doubled over, nearly falling off her horse. She sobbed, once and refused to cry again. She wasn’t doing Nakomi any good crying like a heart-broken little girl.
You may have taken everything from me, Braydton,
but I’m going to obliterate your entire existence from this world.
You have absolutely nothing left,
and you don’t even know it yet.
She was nearing the top of the mountain, where it would plateau off and lead into the valley with the little cabin. Her father had loved this place. It was the only place in the world he was allowed to just be a man — not a king, not a ruler or a war hero. Just a man, hunting with his son and doting on his daughter. He would never see it again.

Brodi was suddenly in her head again, taking her by surprise so much she nearly fell of Harousse.
What are you going to do once Braydton is dead, little princess? You will have to face the pain you’ve been burying under your quest for vengeance. You’ll have to realize we aren’t going to be there when you go home. You’ll have to face the fact that Nakomi is gone forever. And Luke…

Kazia glowered into the darkness, responding to him while half-heartedly wondering if she was losing her mind, having repeated conversations with her dead brother.
Luke was never mine, Brodi.

When he answered her, again, she was all at once annoyed, surprised, and relieved.
You’re avoiding the question
.

She didn’t have time to respond, though. As she neared the top it made her very visible, and the moon was bright in the sky. She dismounted and tied Harousse to a tree surrounded by thick grass. “I’ll be back soon,” she whispered, stroking the soft muzzle. Harousse blew into her face. It wasn’t long ago that Kazia hadn’t understood horses much at all.

Now her horse was all she had left.

Patting Harousse’s cheek, she turned and ran, crouched low, along the side of the mountain, where it wasn’t too steep, staying in the shadows as much as possible.

And then she ran out of shadows.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened, checking the mountain above her and below, but Braydton, of course, wouldn’t be outside in the cold. If he was watching, it would be from the comfort of the cabin, with wide windows looking down on the valley. “Just run. Run hard,” she told herself firmly, but she didn’t like leaving the safety of the shadows. It took several more seconds before her legs would cooperate, and then she was sprinting across the plateau, waiting for an arrow to fly out of the darkness and pierce her heart.

The arrow didn’t come.

The door didn’t open; no one came screaming with a knife or throwing poison snakes or fire bombs or anything. The valley was deathly silent. She reached the wide porch of the cabin without any further incident and rolled into the shadows, both relieved and even more anxious than before. It had been too easy. Could Braydton really be confident enough that he wasn’t waiting to be discovered? If that was true, he was more of a fool than she had thought and he deserved to die.

She stayed crouched in the shadows, watching and waiting until her legs started to cramp and her breath threatened to freeze in her lungs. She had forgotten how cold it was here — much cooler than on the valley floor. Her breath fogged in the air in short, quick pants that warmed her face and then left it colder than before.

The smell of this place was awful. She didn’t know how Braydton had been able to stand it for any length of time. An animal must have gotten caught under the deck and died and was now a rotting, stinking corpse. She pulled her mask down over her face, grateful for the little protection it gave her against the stench.

If Braydton had a trap set in place, he was waiting for her to walk into it. She crawled on hands and feet across the soft dirt to the wide porch, climbing like an overgrown lizard onto the rough hewn boards. She rolled quickly to the cabin wall, lying just under the window and gasping for breath.

This would really be easier if she didn’t already hurt so much.

And then she waited. This wasn’t going at all according to plan. She had thought he would see her coming and they would have a horrific fight to the death — one that she would win because she
always
won fights to the death. But this, this waiting game he was playing, was not what she had been prepared for. Every instinct screamed at her to back off, reformulate her plan, and try again when she knew more about what she was getting into. But anger and blood-thirst overrode common sense, and she slid across the boards to the door.

Lying with her back against it, ready to spring away should it come flying open, she slowly slid a hand up to the door-latch and turned. It was bolted, which was a good sign. Had it been unlocked, she would never have dared go inside. Even she wasn’t that stupid.

She reached into the pouch hanging from her belt and dragged out her dagger, wedging it between the door and the frame and shimmying it upward, so slowly her hand began to cramp before the lock clicked and the handle turned under her hand.
That
skill she had learned on her own, when Brodi kept trying to lock her out of his quarters as a child. Her father had been so proud, even as he was attempting to discipline her.

The door swung open and she rolled inside, coming to her feet in one fluid motion, her sword in her hand. She spun, ready for an attack from any direction, but none came. Frowning, truly nervous now, she tiptoed through the cabin, first the living room and then the small, sparse kitchen. There was food in the cupboards, so he
had
been here recently, but the loaf of bread was covered in mold. As she went to the back of the small space she nearly gagged on the stench. The dead animal must have gotten underneath the house. She held one hand on her sword and the other over her mouth as she faced the bedrooms.

The first was hers. The door itself was dusty and creaked hideously as she pushed it open. She spun, her eyes watching for any threat, but nothing came. If Braydton were here, that certainly would have alerted him. Moving more easily now, because she was fairly positive he wasn’t here at all, she checked through her room and moved to Brodi’s. His, too, hadn’t been disturbed for many years.

Of course, Braydton would have wanted the master bedroom for his own, even though it wasn’t much larger than the other two. She turned toward it, tense, her hand clenching and unclenching the hilt of her sword. She shoved the door open with her shoulder, jerking her sword free to face whatever Braydton had in store for her.

The only thing that hit her, however, was the smell, so strong she nearly vomited all over the floor. She stumbled backward, gasping for air, covering her nose with her arm. Her eyes watered, and she blinked several times, trying to clear them so she could see what she was facing.

And then she wished she hadn’t.

“Oh my…” she gagged as she inched further into the room. It
had
been Braydton, once. But there was very little left of him now. Stealing herself, she gritted her teeth and walked over to the bed. He was missing half his face. She followed the path of decay that had eaten away the whole right side of his head, down his right shoulder and continued on to his forearm. His hand was also mostly gone, unless you counted the maggots. On his forearm, where he would have raised his arm to protect his face, was a large, horrific bite mark, now so swollen and infected it was almost unrecognizable. But Kazia knew only one animal big enough to bite like that, and she smirked.
I guess Nakomi got tired of me waiting to avenge her death. She seems to have taken care of it herself.

She slowly backed out of the room. There was nothing more to do here. Her job was done — her job had been done for quite some time, by the looks of things. An overwhelming sense of relief nearly brought her to her knees. Either that or the smell. She hurried out of the cabin, sucking in huge lung-fulls of clean mountain air. She was never going to get that stench out of her nose.

It took her several seconds to realize that while she was relieved, the peace she had been striving for didn’t come. Her parents, brother, Randolf, and Nakomi were all avenged. But the pain didn’t stop like she had been hoping it would. She walked several steps away and sank down on a rock, staring over the mountain. Her guards were probably somewhere nearby, still hunting her. That would be awkward. How would she reclaim her throne if they were after her for murder?

She felt him before she actually heard him, and heard him long before she could see him, coming up behind her. She was too tired — emotionally and physically, to fight anymore, so she let him come.

“Are you here to stop me?” she asked as she watched him warily, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“No.”

She jerked her chin in. “What? Why not?”

“You have to do what will give you peace, Kazia. What you feel will give your loved ones peace. I’m sorry it took me so long to understand.” He held his hands up, walking toward her several steps before he continued, “I was hurt, and I was acting out of pain. It was selfish of me.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here to make sure you make it home alive. You have a kingdom to rule.”

She sighed, dropping her hand from her sword and letting her chin fall to her chest.

“He’s already dead.”

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. “How? I was only a few minutes behind you!” he exclaimed.

“It only takes seconds, Luke.” She raised her head to see how he would react. He flinched, but said nothing. She sighed. “I didn’t kill him. It looks like he died from an infected wolf bite.”

Luke gaped at her, and she gave a short, exhausted laugh. “Come on, Luke. Let’s go home.”

He pulled her to her feet. “About that…”

She looked over at him as they walked back down the mountain toward Harousse. “I know. The guards are trying to arrest me.”

He shook his head. “They aren’t.”

“I saw them, Luke, they came after me in the tavern I stayed the night in.”

Luke nodded, watching the ground in front of him so he didn’t trip and plummet to his death. “I know, I was with them. Sort of.”