Shattered Glass: A Glass Series novella Page 7

  A narrow beam of yellow light sliced through the darkness. My attacker had come prepared. Lovely. The light swept the ground, searching and then finding me. Caught in the beam long enough to be a target, I somersaulted to my feet as the thwack of a crossbow sounded. Debris pelted me when the bolt ricocheted off the ground nearby. Too close. My heart jumped in my chest. Another bolt clipped my right side, the pain a mere nuisance in the grander scheme of things.

  I raced for the end of the alley, zigzagging as much as possible and hoping with all my soul that a second ambusher didn’t wait for me at the end. A third bolt sailed past. I shot from the alley and increased my pace, no longer caring about staying in the shadows. Glancing behind, I spotted a black-clad figure aiming a crossbow in my direction. Ice skittered down my sweat-soaked back. I changed course, spinning to the left just as the bolt whizzed by my ear. The air from its passage fanned my face. Not stopping to marvel at either my good luck or his lousy aim, I dove for the shadows and ran.

  Hours later—or so it seemed to my starved lungs—I slowed and ducked into a dark shadow. Bending over, I gasped for breath. So much for staying in shape. Although running for your life wasn’t exactly something you could train for. Plus I’d gained a few baby pounds. The thought sent a new spike of fear right through me. I ran my fingers along the gash on my side, seeking its depth. I sighed with relief—only a flesh wound. Then I remembered my other injuries, and they flared to painful life. The one on my neck was also shallow, but the cut on my arm would need to be sealed. I sagged against the building for a moment. Not only my life but also the baby’s had been in danger.

  Once I recovered, I realized I still clutched the files from Bavol’s office. I would have laughed, but the sound might have attracted the wrong attention. Dozens more soldiers had been patrolling the streets since the Cartel declared martial law and set a curfew. To avoid them, I took the most roundabout path back to HQ, ensuring no one followed me. By the time I tapped on the hidden door, the first rays of dawn lit the white marble of the Citadel.

  Hilly, one of the Helper’s Guild members, let me in. She raised an eyebrow at my disheveled and bloody appearance.

  “I ran into a bit of trouble,” I said.

  She quirked a smile. “Not as much as when Valek returns.”

  Oh no. “Did he…”

  “Yep. He stopped in about an hour ago, but when he heard you hadn’t returned, he took off to look for you.”

  I wilted.

  Hilly took pity on me. “Come on. We’ll wake the healer and get you cleaned up before he comes back.”

  I followed her through HQ. Since the building Fisk had once used to house his Helper’s Guild had been seized by the Cartel, he’d found another empty structure tucked almost out of sight in the northwest quadrant of the Citadel to use as a temporary base of operations. Now his people helped us in our efforts to stop the Cartel from taking complete control of Sitia. The so-called resistance.

  Sleeping barracks occupied most of the lower level. The members of the guild spanned in age from six years old to eighteen. The kids didn’t mind the close quarters, and some happily shared a bed. The extra-large kitchen took up the rest of the level. The two upper floors contained Fisk’s room and office, a small suite for Valek and me, and a number of guest rooms for our growing army. Our farmhouse in the Stormdance lands had been a useful place to plan and recuperate during the last month, but we’d quickly learned that we needed to be closer to Bruns.

  The healer was a sixteen-year-old boy named Chale who’d recently developed magical powers. Since all the magicians at the Magician’s Keep had been conscripted and sent to the Cartel’s garrisons, there had been no one to teach him how to use his power—except me and Valek. Even though I lost my powers over three months ago, I hadn’t forgotten my lessons from the Keep. Valek, on the other hand, had freed his power only recently and almost flamed out, killing us all. Now he was reluctant to use it until he learned how to fully control his powers. Not an ideal situation, but we tried.

  I sat at the kitchen table in my undershirt as Chale cleaned my wounds. The gawky teen was all thumbs. He peered through a riot of black hair that my fingers itched to trim. As I suspected, the cut on my biceps needed more than just a bandage. At least talking Chale through the steps needed to heal it with his magic distracted me from the pain. As long as he didn’t touch me skin to skin, he could use threads from the power blanket to stitch the cut closed.

  “I have to keep pulling power to knit the skin together,” Chale said with concern. “Something is tugging it away. Is that normal?”

  “No. I think what is draining your power is what is blocking mine. At least, I hope that’s the case.”

  “Is it the baby?”

  I stared at him. Not many people knew.

  He blushed. “Sorry, I just—”

  “No, don’t apologize. You’re a healer. Sensing the baby is a part of your powers.”

  “It’s healthy, if that helps?”

  “It does,” Valek said from the doorway. He still wore his black skintight sneak suit, which highlighted his long, lean and powerful muscles. “Can you say the same about my wife?”

  A dangerous glint lit his sapphire-blue eyes, but Chale failed to notice.

  “Of course. It’s just a couple scrapes.” Chale’s light tone downplayed my injuries nicely—perhaps he’d noticed more than he let on. “We’re almost finished.”

  “Good,” Valek said, but his gaze seared into mine.

  And though his angular face revealed none of his thoughts, I knew he suppressed a whole gamut of emotions. In a few graceful, almost predatory strides, he was by my side. He laced his fingers in mine as Chale completed his work. Bandages were fine for the shallow cuts. I didn’t want Chale to exhaust his power on the minor abrasions—one of the guild members might need him tonight.

  Valek let go of my hand as I shrugged on my torn and bloody tunic. He studied the garment without comment— another dangerous sign. But by this time, the kitchen bustled with the morning crew, and soon piping-hot sweet cakes were set in front of us. My stomach roared with sudden hunger, and even Valek wasn’t brave enough to get between a pregnant woman and food.

  Only after I stuffed myself did he reclaim my hand and tug me to my feet.

  “Upstairs,” he said.

  Feeling much better with a full stomach, I trailed after him as we ascended the stairs to the third level and into our rooms. Valek closed the door and I braced for his lecture. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heart beating, soaking in his warmth, breathing in his musky scent, feeling safe. At six feet tall, he was eight inches taller than me.

  I’d known Valek for almost nine years, and the only thing that scared him was the threat of losing me. “What happened?” I asked.

  He leaned back and lightly brushed the bandage on my neck with his thumb. “I found out The Mosquito is in town.”

  Ah.

  “Did he attack you?” he asked.

  “It was too dark to see, but the first strike was aimed at my throat.” The Mosquito’s signature way to kill was to stab an ice pick into his victims’ jugulars and let them bleed to death. Nice guy.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  I detailed the attack and the reason it took me so long to return. “But I managed to hold on to the files. Did you learn anything else while you were in the Council Hall?”

  “I grabbed a few promising files from Bavol’s office, but I’m more concerned about what I overheard Bruns and his sycophants discussing in the hallway.”

  I stepped back in alarm. “You weren’t supposed—”

  “They didn’t know I was there. Besides, the information was worth the danger.”

  “About The Mosquito?”

  “Yes. That, and Bruns knows you’re in the Citadel. He’s offered a large bounty to the person who kills you.”

  No surprise. “How much?”

  “Yelena, that
’s not the point.”

  “It’s not the first time someone’s put a price on my head.” Master Magician Roze Featherstone had offered five golds as a reward for my capture when she tried to take over the Sitian Council seven years ago.

  “This time is different. You’re…”

  I waited.

  “Vulnerable without your magic. And it’s no longer all business with Bruns. He took Ben’s and Loris’s deaths and our escape from the Krystal garrison personally. You need to go back to the farmhouse in the Stormdance lands. You’ll be safer there.”

  “And what about you?” I asked. “As you said, our escape. Did he set a bounty for you, as well?”

  “No.”

  “How do you know?”

  Valek paced the room. I crossed my arms to keep his lingering warmth close. Plus, judging by the agitation in his steps, I sensed he was working up the nerve to deliver more bad news.

  He stopped. “Bruns has offered fifty golds to the person who kills you.”

  That was a fortune. I whistled, and he shot me a glare. “You didn’t answer my question,” I said.

  Another scowl, and then his shoulders drooped as if in defeat. “Bruns has been in contact with Commander Ambrose, and…” Valek paused. “The Commander has agreed to send Onora to assassinate me.”

  2

  Valek

  Yelena’s mouth opened slightly in surprise, and concern flashed in her green eyes over the news. But Valek had expected something like this. If he focused on the logic, the move made perfect tactical sense. The Commander had warned Valek that leaving Ixia would be an act of treason. And acts of treason, no matter what the reason, were punishable by death. Plus, he now had magic, of all things. He’d inadvertently traded his immunity to magic for the power to wield it. And the Commander had a standing execution order on all magicians found in Ixia.

  Except he and the Commander had been close friends, and he was unaware of Valek’s magic—only a handful of people knew. He’d hoped the Commander would give him the benefit of doubt and not send an assassin after him.

  Yelena put her hand on his arm. “He’s being influenced by Owen’s magic.”

  “We don’t know that for sure.” There had been a few inconsistencies, like when the Commander had tried to protect Valek from Owen by sending him to the coast to deal with the Storm Thieves. He was also supposed to be protected from Owen’s subversion by the null shields that Leif had woven into his uniforms, but the Commander could have lied to Valek about wearing them.

  “He has to be,” she said.

  He pressed his hand over hers and enjoyed not only her touch but the respite from the constant presence of his magic. With his mental shield in place, it wasn’t as bad, but contact with her turned it all off, and he returned to the man he’d been for the last forty-one years of his life.

  “Are you worried about Onora?” she asked.

  Was he? They had sparred a number of times, and each time he had defeated her. But perhaps she planned to ambush him. “No. She’s the best to come along in the last twenty-four years, but unless she catches me off guard, I don’t expect her to cause me any trouble.”

  “And you’re never relaxed,” she teased.

  “I am when I’m with you, love.” He picked up her hand and kissed her palm.

  “Really? And those knives under our pillows, the swords on the floor, the darts in the headboard?”

  “I said relaxed, not stupid. Being prepared is never a bad idea.”

  “No.” Her gaze grew distant as she rubbed her side.

  Probably remembering The Mosquito’s attack. While Valek was proud she was able to get away, he planned to ensure that would be the assassin’s last attempt on her life.

  “Speaking of being prepared,” he said, “you need to leave the Citadel until I’ve taken care of any bounty hunters coming after you. Either go to the Stormdance farmhouse, or travel to the Illiais Jungle to visit your mother. Both are safer than here.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “Nice try, handsome, but I’m not going anywhere. At least not until Leif and Mara return from Broken Bridge with my father, and we’ve looked over the information from Bavol’s.”

  “At least promise me you’ll stay in HQ until they arrive.” He leaned close and kissed her neck, then whispered, “Do it for your handsome husband.”

  Laughing, she said, “I promise to stay in bed for the rest of the morning as long as you stay with me. After that…no promises.”

  “What if I give you a very good reason to stay in bed until I squash The Mosquito?”

  She drew back, and desire burned in her gaze. “What’s the reason?”

  “Me taking care of you until you’re out of breath and a puddle in my hands. A service I’ll be happy to perform anytime during your…bed rest.” He nibbled on her earlobe.

  “Oh, my. Someone certainly has a high opinion of himself,” she teased.

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “Oh, yes! Show me what you can do, and I’ll consider your request.”

  He grinned. “Accepted.”

  Not giving her time to reply, Valek pulled her to their bedroom and made short work of her clothing. A few bloody scrapes marked her back and a number of bruises peppered her arms. Valek suppressed his fury with the knowledge that The Mosquito would soon be crushed.

  Valek scooped her up and laid her on the bed, then kissed her for a long moment. She plucked at his clothing, and he grabbed her hands. “This is for you, love.”

  “Exactly. Now strip.”

  He peeled off the tight garment, but his gaze never left her. Once divested of his clothing, he joined her on the bed. He trailed kisses down her neck. Valek had been convinced he’d lost her when she hadn’t returned from her mission, and he planned to savor this time with her as if it were the last. His efforts left her gasping, and he gave her three very good reasons to stay in bed.

  She stretched like a cat and curled up next to him. Yelena met his gaze. “You’re really worried about the bounty on me?”

  Valek traced the recently healed cut along her side with a finger. Purple bruises ringed the bright red line. “I know you can handle an assassin.” He quirked a smile. “Or two, but with fifty golds at stake…a gang of wannabe bounty hunters could come after you together and split the money.”

  “All right, I’ll stay in HQ until you’ve dealt with The Mosquito,” she promised.

  A weight lifted from his shoulders. He pulled her close. She snuggled against him and fell asleep almost immediately. He smoothed her long black hair back from her beautiful oval face. The knowledge that he’d do anything to keep her and the baby safe comforted him, since it required no thinking, no weighing the consequences of his actions and no hesitation.

  Valek had once felt the same uncomplicated feelings for the Commander, but not anymore. Even if the Commander’s behavior had been caused by Owen’s magical hold on him, Valek could no longer return to that place of blind loyalty. His new magic complicated everything, of course. However, that would just be an excuse. No. Yelena meant more to him than his own life and happiness, and much more than the Commander’s.

  Valek woke a few hours later and slid from the bed without waking his wife. An automatic smile still spread over his lips every time he thought of Yelena as his wife. Not many people knew of their marriage, and even fewer were aware of the baby, but the fact that they had exchanged vows continued to thrill him, as if he’d won the biggest tournament in the entire world.

  Going down one level, Valek stopped in Fisk’s office. The stark room contained a desk, a couple chairs and a table. The young leader of the Helper’s Guild bent over his desk. The fingers of his right hand ran through his light brown hair, leaving behind rows of spikes, while his left clutched a stylus. He frowned at a sheet of parchment spread over the desk.

  Valek tapped on the open door, and Fisk glanced up. Dark smudges marked his light brown eyes. The poor boy appeared years older than seventeen.

  “When’s th
e last time you slept?” Valek asked.

  Fisk blinked at him. “Sleep? What’s that?”

  “Not funny.”

  Fisk dropped the stylus and rubbed his face. “Wish I was joking.”

  “Bring me up to date, and then take a break.”

  “But—”

  “It’s not a request. Exhaustion will only lead to fatal mistakes. I’ll collect the information from your guild while you rest.”

  He grinned. “Half of them are terrified of you and won’t report.”

  “Then they can wait until you’re awake. What’s the latest intel?”

  Fisk filled him in. “We think Hans Cloud Mist is a member of the Cartel. He’s been spotted at the Moon garrison twice, and we’ve confirmed Danae Bloodgood and Toki Krystal as members.”

  Valek considered this for a moment. They were all influential businesspeople who thought their accumulated wealth and business acumen meant they could do a better job of running Sitia than the appointed Councilors. “I’m beginning to suspect there are eleven members, one for each clan, with Bruns designated as their leader,” he mused.

  “Sounds like something they’d do to justify their actions.”

  Interesting comment. “What do you mean?”

  Fisk leaned back and spread his arms. “They decided that the Sitian Council was not doing a proper job of keeping Sitia safe from the Commander. Plus the Council also failed to rein in the Sitian magicians, letting them go about their business willy-nilly.”

  “Willy-nilly?”

  “Yeah, you know.” Waving his hands, Fisk elaborated, “Selling null shields to anyone, using their magic for selfish reasons. I think the Cartel feels they can do better than the Councilors, but they still honor the structure the clans have established long ago. So they’re not really usurping the Council—just replacing them.”