The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(118)

I’d fought against Imperial soldiers, but the ones sent to enforce the Tithing Festival were young, inexperienced. They seldom encountered any resistance, so why send hardened soldiers? This construct moved in a way I was unfamiliar with, long limbs flowing with the grace of an egret darting for prey. Even as the blade fell down the palace steps, the construct’s arms moved. I blocked two with my staff. The third seized the end of my staff and held it as the fourth sliced across my chest. I felt the cloth and skin part, the stinging of the rain as it ran into the wound. Mephi circled, searching for an opening. I couldn’t underestimate this foe. The Emperor’s war constructs were simple creatures. It seemed he’d put more work into this one. I had no idea of the commands written into this creature, what knowledge it had been given.

I jabbed experimentally with the end of my staff. The construct caught it before I could ram its belly. Mephi, as though reading my mind, darted in, teeth aimed at the other leg. Without even glancing behind, the construct flourished its three blades at Mephi, forcing him back. I pushed the thrum to the bottom of my feet, stomped.

The steps trembled. The construct tried to steady itself on its spindly legs. The injured one gave way, sending the construct to its knees. Both Mephi and I leapt forward. I struck another wrist. The construct snarled, its fingers still tight around the blade. I struck again. This time, the construct’s fingers opened.

I felt the impact before I felt the pain. A punching sensation struck my thigh. I glanced down to see the handle of a knife embedded in my leg. The construct yanked it free. There was the pain now, a symphony to the lone instrument of the gash across my chest.

Mephi let out a strangled cry. Panic pulsed through me. Mephi had seized another of the construct’s arms at the elbow, but the construct had been able to twist its arm, hooking the blade into the soft flesh of Mephi’s ear. It tore the blade free, leaving a bloody mess of the ear. Both of us drew back, alert, assessing the damage.

I couldn’t put much weight on my injured leg. Mephi’s ear hung limp against the side of his head. The construct only had two blades left. And then the creature grinned at me. It was an unsettling expression on a thing that was supposed to be only following commands written into its shards. I lifted my staff, preparing for an attack. But the construct whirled. I struck it on the back, too late.

It plunged both blades into Mephi’s shoulders.

Mephi’s cry tore my heart in two. The thrumming built in my chest like the rumbling of thunder from an approaching storm. My awareness of the water around us sharpened. Without even thinking, I reached. The rain around me stopped, mid-fall. I gathered the droplets, pulling them from the air and then the ground. All I could think was how this creature had hurt Mephi and I needed to end it. A wave of water formed, crashing into the construct with the force of the ocean against a cliff.

The construct fell away from Mephi, carried down the steps with the waterfall. I leapt after it.

When I knelt on its chest, my staff held against its neck, it held no more blades in its hands. “What happened to her?” I cried out. “You took her. What do you do with them?”

A cough erupted from the construct’s throat; a blood-tinged foam touched its lips. “I do nothing. I bring them here.”

I pressed harder. “What happens to them after you bring them? Tell me.”

The construct gritted its teeth. “If I tell you, you swear to let me go.”

“I swear it,” I said.

“They go to the Emperor for his experiments. This woman you seek – if it was seven years ago she was taken, she is long dead.”

I thought I’d accepted it; I’d thought I could move on from this. But hearing it, knowing now it was true unleashed a wellspring of grief. The rain around me seemed to fall harder. I would never see her again, and never was a longer time than I could ever comprehend.

I rose to my feet, my fingers clenched around my staff.

“You promised,” the construct said, trying to wriggle free.

I put a heel on its chest. “I am not a construct. I can lie whenever I choose.” I brought the staff down hard on the construct’s head and felt the crack of its skull. I collapsed, the weight of sorrow pressing like a heavy hand upon my chest. I’d come all this way, had left behind my family, had given up my career – and I would have done so much more, anything. But I was too late. I’d likely been too late by the time I’d found the silver coins across Emahla’s bedspread.

Mephi whimpered.

My friend was still alive. I still had responsibilities here, things I needed to do. When I sat up, I saw Mephi standing near the top of the palace steps, his head low, blood mixing with the rain and dripping from his jaw. The two knives jutted from his shoulders. He glanced at me and wheezed. “Not good.”

I went to him and pulled my tunic over my head. Carefully, I pulled the knives free as he hissed, then tied my tunic tight around the wounds. I scratched him under the chin. “Can you walk? We need to get you some help.”

“I can walk. Slowly.” His nose found the wound in my leg. “You?”

“Slowly,” I said. I surveyed the empty palace grounds, the lack of guards at the door. “Something’s not right here. No people, no constructs except for that one.”

My staff tight in my hands, I climbed the steps with Mephi and tried the door. It swung open at my touch, revealing an empty entrance hall, the lamps unlit. I stepped inside, conscious of the rain and blood I dripped onto the floor. Scenes of peacocks and mountains were painted between the pillars against the walls. A faded mural graced the wall above the steps, men and women hand-in-hand. Their gazes seemed to be fixed on me.