The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(5)

Esha tugged at the door. After steadying her breath, she reached out to hold the large gold lock in her shaking hands.

How had the soldier done it?

A twist to the right, a tug forward. Had the next step been clockwise or counterclockwise? She chose the latter but the lock didn’t budge.

She suppressed a curse.

The soldier had given her the information she needed—she only had until midnight. She had been briefed on the Fort rituals before she left and she knew that the commander ran training exercises and drills in the evening and the early morning hours.

It wasn’t a lot of time, but she had no choice. There was too much at stake for this mission, especially with the new cease-fire. Worse than failing, if she was caught, it could jeopardize everything. She had to keep her head about her.

Esha focused her breath until it steadied. The anxiety she felt now—she had felt it a million times. In every mission she had run, there was a moment when all felt lost. When the military plans had been impossible to steal, the blockade impossible to break.

This was her biggest mission to date. She focused on transforming her fear into excitement.

This was her chance, aside from all other obligation, to take the first step toward her revenge. One she had been dreaming about as frequently as she had tossed and turned from nightmares.

She took a deep breath and looked around her. The red stone walls in front of her were slabs, thick and sturdy. The walls around it were made of the same smooth, tall stone. Impossible to climb.

She tried the lock again, to no avail. By the third time, her palms were sore and frustration tore at her throat.

A faint shuffle of feet on the other side of the door shot her back to attention, and Esha shoved herself into the wall shadows. She tried to make herself as small as possible as the footsteps became louder and more clear.

A young soldier pushed through the door she had been trying to open, walking outside with an unsteady stance and a darting gaze. He moved toward the cliff and began to relieve himself, breathing heavily and barely keeping himself upright.

Esha held her breath and waited. The door wasn’t open enough for her to sneak in and he hadn’t moved far enough away, only about twenty paces. She kept her eyes on him as he moved back toward the door.

She moved forward to get a better look and stepped on the sharp point of a rock. Esha bit back a yelp of pain as quick as she could, but the soldier’s hand stilled, and with a firm motion he threw the door shut.

He whirled around, a curved short sword in each hand, the metal shining like malicious smiles in the moonlight. Though he swayed slightly in the breeze, his eyes were alert and he stalked closer to where Esha stood, hidden in the shadows.

She berated herself—this wasn’t a normal mission. Soldiers at the Blood Fort were second best to the elite Senap Guard. They weren’t sell-swords or conscripted farmers but highly trained, skilled warriors.

Esha went deathly still, the only sound in the air the faint traces of laughter and loud cheers from inside the Fort. She was almost out of time.

She crouched to the ground as the soldier drew closer to her corner, reaching toward the strap around her thigh for her knife.

The soldier stopped a breath away from her spot in the shadows.

Esha grabbed a stone and chucked it far behind him, away from the door. He started and turned, looking at the stone with bewilderment.

A small movement, but the distraction she needed. Esha lunged out of the shadows, smashing the hilt of her knife into the back of his head. He groaned and caught her arm, her bad one. She winced in pain but moved to hit again as he aimed his fist at her stomach. But he hesitated when he locked eyes with her.

Good.

She clocked him in the head and then kicked him in the kidney for good measure. He tumbled over, but as he fell he grasped her ankle, pulling her with him. She fell with a grunt and fury rose in her chest. Esha gripped the hilt of her knife as she kicked him.

One slice and he would be dead.

The thought beckoned at Esha, but she chose stealth over bloodthirst. She grabbed a stone nearby, swinging it at the soldier’s head to knock him unconscious.

If he never woke up, it would be the will of the gods. She had given him a chance.

Esha scrambled to her feet and tugged the unlucky soldier toward the Fort. He was heavy, and she huffed as she pulled him upright against the stone wall. She took the flask of liquor at his hip and dumped its contents on his head. She hoped anyone who found him would simply smell the pungent scent of alcohol and think no more of it.

Esha stared at him, and to be sure, slapped his cheek once, hard. Nothing.

Her hands ached, but Esha didn’t stop to wrap them and ran to the entrance. She followed through the motions and this time, the door opened.

Esha fell against it in a moment of gratitude, her palms flat, her forehead welcoming the cool touch of the smooth red stone.

With careful precision Esha pushed into the darkness of the Fort, taking care to move quieter than the wind and not let a single sound escape. She had left enough of a mess already.

She was in.

Esha slipped into the general’s room as the soldiers streamed out for midnight exercises below. She had almost been caught a few times, having taken a wrong staircase or two, but her memory of the palace—now turned fort—kept her from getting too lost. At last, she reached the highest floor of the Blood Fort, a towering spire that rose into the sky.

The general would be in his room, alone. Her contact had told her that the midnight trainings were run by the commander, as the general liked to turn in and rise early.