Alex Lidell - The Cadet of Tildor

“That is far enough, all of you.”

Renee turned toward the speaker. Her heart pounded.

The Madam stood at the far end of the barren chamber, a bound and gagged toddler balanced on her hip. Beside them, a metal ladder rose to a trapdoor in the ceiling. The woman’s wrist flicked, smoothly releasing a blade from her sleeve into her palm. She rested the knife against Claire’s throat and met the eyes of Savoy, Renee, and Fisker in turn.

Renee drew a sharp breath. The girl was struggling against her binds, her little wrists rubbed raw on the rope and long lashes damp with tears. A few paces away, Jasper rocked over a deformed ankle, likely another victim of the devious entrance. Renee pushed aside their pain to focus on their lives.

Renee, Savoy, and Fisker kept still, their blades at the ready.

“Jasper.” The Madam’s voice dripped disdain. “Quit whimpering, climb up the ladder, and open the door.”

Renee shifted her weight.

The woman pressed the knife into Claire’s neck until a trickle of blood ran free, dripping to stain the Madam’s loose shirtsleeve. The child bucked wildly, a wail escaping around the gag.

Renee froze.

Jasper struggled upright. Face contorted and pale, he brought his healthy foot under him, rocked once, twice, and tried to rise. The injury took his weight and he cried out, falling to the floor. “I can’t.”

The Madam snorted and weighed the ladder with her gaze. Without Jasper to climb first, she would have to open the trapdoor herself. A simple act except for the squirming toddler in her arms and the necessity of leaving her son behind. The latter must offend her sense of security if not morality.

Savoy cleared his throat. “Take your time, Madam. I’ve nowhere to be.”

“Cat, if I recall?” The Madam smiled, flashing white teeth against red lips.

“Commander Savoy.”

“So I’ve heard. ’Tis a shame we lacked earlier introduction.” She shifted her stance. “I hope my offspring has not damaged you beyond repair?”

On the floor, Jasper’s head sank into his shoulders.

“Draw your blade and test me yourself,” said Savoy.

She chuckled. “A professional curiosity I may satisfy later. I fear I’m an assassin, not dualist, by trade.” Circling the ladder such that she could watch her opponents while she climbed, the Madam gripped the bars and climbed up. Claire’s dangling feet banged against the metal steps.

“Mother!” Jasper reached up toward the woman.

The Madam, now by the ceiling, looked down at her son. Her face still, she released the toddler into the empty air, in the same motion throwing the knife in her hand at Jasper.

Claire shrieked. Dropping her sword, Renee lunged forward to catch the falling child. The girl’s weight caught her shoulder, sending them both to the ground. Renee twisted in the air to put herself at the bottom of the falling heap and felt her charge bounce against her as the stone struck her back.

Grunting, she rolled to her feet. The little girl sobbed but pulled against her binds. Alive. Renee turned, steeling herself to see Jasper pierced with his mother’s blade. But, he wasn’t. Savoy rose from atop Jasper—he had pushed the boy clear. The Madam’s knife, intended for her son’s heart, skittered harmlessly across the floor. Above them, the trapdoor in the ceiling banged closed, its edges glimmering with sparks of blue flame.

The Madam was gone.

Fisker grunted in frustration.

Renee retrieved her sword and slid it into its sheath before untying the small hostage. Once free, Claire scrambled across the floor and curled up in a corner, tear-streaked face hidden inside her arms. The face of another girl flinching in fear floated in Renee’s mind. This could have been Sasha. Almost was. Bloody gods. It almost was.

Savoy’s foot caught Jasper’s side and rolled the boy over like a log. “What did you do to the child?”

“Nothing.” His voice trembled. “I swear. I did nothing.”

Savoy looked down at the boy. The commander’s nostrils flared. A shadow darkened his face. And then he twitched, as if something only he saw unfolded before him. Something that had nothing to do with a sobbing toddler.

“Commander?” Renee called out.

Savoy showed no sign of having heard her. Bending, he gripped Jasper’s throat and hauled the mage boy to his feet.

Jasper gasped and struggled against the grip, like a kitten twisting for freedom.

“Can’t concentrate in pain, can you, mage?” said Savoy. The cold hatred in his voice chilled Renee.

“Savoy.” She forced her voice steady, afraid to nudge a stone balancing on a cliff’s edge. Savoy could kill Jasper. Would kill him if given a hair more cause. “Release him. Please. It’s over.”

Savoy’s muscles bunched beneath taut skin and Jasper’s eyes shot open. The gurgles ceased.

Claire shrank deeper into her corner.

“He’s fifteen,” whispered Renee. “He’s scared and he’s hurt.”

Savoy’s jaw tightened.

Renee stepped closer. She laid her hand on Savoy’s forearm and felt it tremble. “You saved his life minutes ago. Don’t take it now.”

Savoy’s face twitched. He loosened his hold, letting the boy slide to the ground.

Jasper gasped for air, rubbing his neck and staring at the floor.

“Begging your pardon, Commander.” Fisker stood beside the waist-high step from which Renee had fallen into the room. He ran his hand along its edge and frowned. “There is something amiss here. Do you still have the amulet?”

“There is no mage work there.” Jasper’s voice trembled.

Renee rubbed her temple. The boy would do well to keep from attracting Savoy’s attention.

Savoy turned the point of his sword on Jasper. “Horse shit. What’s in that step, mage?”

Jasper scampered back, the seat of his pants rubbing the floor. “Nothing. I swear, Cat. Nothing.”

Savoy looked from the boy to the guardsman. Jasper was shaking his head like a wet dog while Fisker held up his hand, ready to catch the stone. Savoy tossed the amulet to Fisker.

A triumphant smile touched the guard’s face. The back of Renee’s neck tightened. She cried out a warning, but the guardsman had already turned and pointed the amulet at Savoy. The wristbands came alive at the amulet’s order, twisting Savoy’s wrists behind his head and pulling him to the metal ladder.

Fisker drew his sword. “Even more useful than I imagined.” He pocketed the amulet and turned toward the restrained Savoy.

“What are you doing?” Drawing her sword, Renee barred his way. A drop of sweat escaped her matted hair and stung her eye. She scrubbed her arm roughly across her forehead. Her heart sped.

“You know what he is.” Fisker’s face was dark, his lips set in a sneer. His shadow fell over her. “Did you not see the charcoaled bodies of those in the arena who died to buy him a few minutes of distraction? He is a corruption that poisons the Crown’s blood. He and his kind always have been.”

Renee adjusted her stance. The top of her head just reached the guardsman’s shoulder. “The Family started that fire,” she said, weighing Fisker with her gaze. She could do this, she’d dealt with large men before. “Commander Savoy knows nothing of his relation.”

“His ignorance of his uncle does not change it. People died regardless. They will continue dying unless I cut him down. Him, and then the rest of his vile bloodline.” The four fingers of Fisker’s free hand flexed. “Step aside, girl.”

Behind Renee, Savoy growled. “What bloody uncle?”

“Savoy is a Servant of the Crown.” Renee moved across the floor, circling Fisker. “Do you put your judgment above King Lysian’s?”