Sirens and Other Daemon Lovers

“None taken,” their leader said; and then her sword was out and coming down on Brax. She struck hard and fast, but Brax was already under her arm and pushing her off center, taking only enough time to break the other woman’s arm as she went down. The other seven moved in, Brax scrambled up with blood on her sword, and then they were on us.

I wasn’t ready for the noise of it, the clattering of metal on metal, the yells, the way that everything reverberated in the closed space of the hallway. I could hear the bolts slamming into place in the doors behind us, and knew that at least someone was alerted: No one but Andavista or Gerlain would get inside now. Lucky was shouting but I couldn’t tell what or who it was meant for. Then I saw Ro shaking his head even as he turned and cut another soldier’s feet out from under him, and I understood. “Go on,” I yelled. “Get help! We don’t know how many more there might be!”

For a moment Ro looked terribly young. Then his face set, and he turned up the hall. It was bad strategy on the part of the assassins to arrive in a group, rather than splitting up and approaching from both directions; but they’d had to preserve the illusion of being ordered to the post. Two of them tried to head Ro off: He gutted one and kept going, and Brax stepped in front of the other. Three horrible moments later she made a rough, rattling sound and they both went down in a boneless tumble. Brax left a broad smear of blood on the wall behind her as she fell.

Lucky and I were side by side now, facing the four that were still standing. Out of the side of my right eye I could see Brax lying limp against the wall. Lucky was panting. There was a moment of silence in the hall; we all looked at each other, as if we’d suddenly found ourselves doing something unexpected and someone had stopped to ask, what now?

“Blow them down,” I told Lucky, and we swirled into them like the lightning and the wind.

I’d never before fought for my life or another’s. These people weren’t Tom; I couldn’t drop my sword and call stop. And these were our own we were facing, people we’d eaten with, insulted and argued with, and whose measure we had taken on the training field. Some of them were people I had taught, muscle to muscle, skin to skin. Now I reached for them in rage, and my touch was voracious. I went in close to one, up near his center, my arm fully extended under his and lifting up, taking his balance, thrusting my weight forward to put him down. It was sweet to feel him scrabbling under my hands, pulling at my tunic, trying to right himself, and then my sword was at his neck and I cut off his life in a ragged line. His trousers soiled with shit and he fell into a puddle at my feet. My body sang. I took the taste of his death between my teeth, and stepped on his stomach to get to the woman behind him.

I woke in our rooms. Ro was there, watching over me.

“How are you?”

“Don’t touch me,” I said.

He waited. “Brax and Lucky are going to be fine.” I put a hand up to my head. “It was deep, to the bone, but it’s not infected. They had to shave your head,” he added, too late.

“Saree came around. Those two quads were hired to win a place in the guards and wait for the right moment. The one they took alive didn’t last long enough to tell them who did the hiring. Poor bastard.”

I felt empty and dirty, and I couldn’t think of anything to say.

He swallowed, moved closer, but he was careful not to touch me. “Mars, I know it’s the first time you’ve killed. It’s hard, but we’ve all been through it. We can help you, if you’ll let us.”

“You don’t understand,” I said.

“I do, truly.” He was so earnest. “I remember—”

I held up a hand. “Blessing on you, Ro, but it’s not the killing, it’s—I can’t. I can’t talk about it.” I swung my legs off the other side of the bed, stood shakily, looked around for something to wear. My head hurt all the way down to my feet, but I wasn’t as weak as I’d expected to be. Good. I found my tunic and overshirt, and a pair of dirty leggings.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to get out. I’ll be fine,” I added, seeing his face. “I won’t leave the palace. I just want some time to think. I’m not looking for a ledge to jump off.”

He managed a tight smile. I did not come close to him as I left.

I really did want to wander: to get lost. I had the wit to stay away from the public halls, and I did not want the company and the avid questions of other guards, so I steered toward the lower floors: the kitchens, the pantry, and the enclosed food gardens. I found a stair down from the scullery that led to a vast series of storerooms, smokerooms, wine cellars.

I thought about the killing.