Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(14)

“Temra is fading,” I say. “She doesn’t have time for a second chance. We need to try this.”

“If we attack them, things will get very loud,” Kellyn says. “And we’re unarmed, with no way to go back for our weapons now.” He thinks a moment. “We need a distraction. You two hide. I’ll lead the guards away.”

“What?” I ask. “That’s a terrible idea!”

“It’s the only chance we’ll have of getting Serutha out of here unseen.”

“No.”

“Temra is fading,” Kellyn reminds me, throwing my own words in my face. “I can do this. Don’t wait for me. Run for the portal as quickly as you can. Get the healer through. Save your sister.”

“Kellyn—”

Petrik puts his hand on my shoulder, turns me. “He’s right. Let him help. This is the best way.”

I don’t know what else to say. Petrik takes my silence as compliance. He darts behind one of those drapes again.

There’s a tug on my arm as I start to join him, and then I’m being turned around.

Warm lips press against my own; the pressure is fierce, searing against my skin. I feel my stomach drop beneath the ground. When Kellyn pulls back, I want to look anywhere else, but he demands my attention. “Don’t wait for me,” he repeats. “I’m sorry Temra ever got hurt.” Then he gently nudges me toward where Petrik is already hiding.

His back is to me before I can say anything in response. I lose sight of the mercenary as he ducks into the small hallway.

“Guards,” he says in a cocksure voice. “I’m looking for that fancy healer. Is she down here?”

His question is met with silence.

“You shouldn’t be here,” someone says.

“I’m injured. Broken heart. Hoping she can work some magic.”

“Identify yourself,” another guard demands.

Kellyn sighs dramatically. “I was hoping you would hand her over. Fine. I’ll just be going, then.”

Hands clamp over my upper arms and haul me behind the drapes. The fabric settles into place just as I hear running footsteps fly by, followed by so many more. Where the end of the drapes meets the wall, there’s the smallest gap, and I watch Kellyn barrel down the hallway, five men in pursuit.

“Come on,” Petrik says, gripping my arm.

They left one guard behind with a spear, and she raises it at Petrik and me.

Our weapons are still up in the attic.

She rushes me, and I just barely dodge out of the way. On instinct, my hands wrap around the spear shaft, trying to wrest the weapon from her.

Petrik comes over to help me, but the guard kicks out at him, and the wind goes out from his lungs.

I have her beat in strength, but I’m untrained. I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared to make too much noise. I yank at the weapon, pull the guard across the hallway, smash her back into the opposite wall. Then I shove the shaft toward her neck, cutting off her air supply.

It’s horrible, standing there, hurting someone. At least with my weapons, it’s over quickly, and I can move on before I have too much time to think about it. But here, I watch the guard’s eyes roll back into her head, feel her body go limp in front of me, watch her slide to the floor.

A whimper escapes me, and no amount of blinking will make the scene in front of me change.

“Ziva!” Petrik’s breath rushes into him all at once. “Search the walls. Look for any grooves or anything at all!”

I remember the task at hand, even though my hands shake, and my mind is a complete mess. Smoothing my hands flat against the wall, I pray for something to materialize beneath my fingers. Nothing happens when I move my hands side to side, but when I start to reach toward the ceiling—

“Petrik!”

Fabric comes up with my fingers, and then I’m yanking, pulling, until a long cloth detaches from the wall. When I catch it in my fingers, it still bears the same pattern as the stone wall surrounding it, obscuring the door hidden beneath.

I wonder for just a moment if Ravis has gotten his hands on another magical cloth weaver, before I toss the fabric to the ground and pull the pins from the door as I did in the attic. This one locks on the outside, clearly trying to keep someone from escaping.

My heart is in my throat when I finally get the last pin and pull. There’s a noise, but I hope Kellyn’s distraction is enough to keep anyone from noticing.

A woman, who I assume had been lying on a divan, is now bolted upright. She’s in a nightdress, her hair loose around her face. It looks as though it’s been recently brushed. The curls are somewhat flattened, but the volume is intense as it falls nearly down to her waist. Her eyes are a warm brown, her skin just a bit lighter. More amber-colored than Petrik’s deep brown.

“Serutha!” Petrik says.

“Petrik?” She blinks, as though not trusting her eyes.

“We’re here to rescue you.”

The woman holds her arms around herself. “You shouldn’t be here. The last people who tried to save me were beheaded. I know because Ravis left their heads in here for a week. I couldn’t breathe for the smell.”

All I need is confirmation that she’s who we’re looking for. The rest can wait until later. I get behind the healer and push her in the right direction.