The Traitor Queen (The Traitor Spy Trilogy #3)(129)

They’re losing. They’ve lost. Unless they’ve put something in place at the palace …

“Dannyl,” Merria said.

“What?” he asked, then felt a flash of guilt at the sharpness of his tone.

“Osen’s ring?”

Dannyl cursed, then apologised, as he fumbled in his robe for the blood ring. Taking a deep breath, he slipped it on his finger.

—Dannyl?

—Yes, Osen. It’s me. The conflict has moved into sight. The Ashaki formed a line at the entrance to the parade, but they’re now in retreat.

—Sonea, can you see?

—Yes, came Sonea’s reply. Her mental voice was clear, but he could sense nothing of her presence or thoughts. Below, the retreating Ashaki were fifty paces from Achati’s house and getting closer. Soon Dannyl would be able to see more than the back of their heads. See if Achati was still among them. A strike slammed two of them back into the men behind. Dannyl caught a glimpse of crushed, bloodied faces.

—The Ashaki are losing, Osen noted.

—They may have another force waiting at the palace, Dannyl replied.

—Can you see Lorkin? Sonea asked.

Dannyl dragged his eyes away from the Ashaki to the Traitors. He caught his breath. Hundreds of them were moving into the parade. They walked in columns, their orderly formation a telling contrast to the crowd of retreating Ashaki. As he watched, a few of the foremost Traitors stepped aside and let those behind take their places.

He had assumed it would be easy to pick Lorkin out as the one man among many women, but there appeared to be as many male Traitor magicians as women and they were all dressed the same. Male or female, they were dipping into the pockets of the vests they wore, then holding out whatever it was they’d removed. He caught a glint of light, then another, and realised what they were doing.

Stones. They’re using stones.

Then his eyes found a familiar face and he felt recognition and relief rush through him. Lorkin was standing at the centre of the Traitor line, behind and a step to the side of a shorter, older woman. Tyvara? No. None of the personal slaves at the Guild House had been that woman’s age. So who was the older woman?

—The queen, Sonea sent.

Looking at the older woman again, Dannyl noted her position at the centre and the determination in her face. Queen Savara, he thought. Who, unless the Ashaki come up with some last-moment winning manoeuvre, will be the woman I will soon have to kneel before and negotiate with.

The Ashaki … were drawing level with Achati’s house. They were a much smaller group now. He steeled himself as he looked down and sought a familiar face. A head turned to look up toward him, and all the fear and affection he’d meant to hide from Osen and Sonea surged up and paralysed him. Achati smiled as if he had known Dannyl would be watching from atop his home all along, then turned his attention back to the Traitors.

Dannyl couldn’t move. His heart hammered in his chest as the Ashaki continued backing towards the palace. He can’t die. King Amakira was flanked by Achati and one of his other advisers. More Ashaki fell. He won’t, he told himself. He’ll be fine if they get back to the palace.

“Oh.” Merria said. “Look.”

Tearing his gaze away, Dannyl saw she was pointing towards the grand palace building. People were pouring out of the entrance. At first he felt a surge of hope and triumph, thinking they were more Ashaki, then Tayend whistled quietly as he always did when impressed, and at the same time Dannyl realised he wasn’t seeing glittering Ashaki garb.

“The Traitors have already overtaken it.” Tayend sighed. “And the Ashaki haven’t even noticed.”

Looking down again, Dannyl felt sick as he waited for signs that the Ashaki had realised the truth. When they do, they’ll surrender. They have no other choice. The Ashaki were bunching together around the king. No more than twenty now. Some were looking back at the palace. The ones at the back stopped, shouting a warning. He saw the king begin to turn, then stop. Saw Amakira’s lips move, and Achati’s nod. The king and the other adviser continued to retreat, but Achati stopped. The strikes from the Traitors suddenly intensified, perhaps at the sight of their enemy’s leader moving out of sight. Achati staggered.

Then he made an impossible leap backwards, contorting in the air and crashed to the ground.

Dannyl’s heart stopped. He stared at the twisted, limp form of his friend in disbelief.

But … why? Why didn’t he retreat with the king? Why sacrifice himself then, when he didn’t have to. The king must have known they had lost. He should have surrendered. I should have done something. If I’d known he’d do this I would have done something …

Hands were restraining his arms. He looked down to see both Merria and Tayend holding him. He looked at them in surprise. Then he realised he was very close to the edge of the roof.

“I’m sorry,” Tayend said. As he met Tayend’s gaze he saw understanding and sympathy there. Merria had said something at the same time, and it took Dannyl a moment to realise what it was.

“Don’t what?” he asked.

She stared at him intently. “Try to save them.”

Dannyl stepped back from the edge and shook them off. “For a moment I thought you were worried about me,” he said bitterly. He flinched at the petulance in his tone. Then anger filled him, and something else. Something that threatened to overwhelm him. Suddenly he had to get away from them. Away from the sight below. He took a few steps toward the hatch they’d climbed through to get onto the roof.