Django Wexler - The Shadow Throne

“What happened to Cora?” Raesinia said, the pit in her stomach yawning wider.

“They took her,” Ben said. “The Concordat. I was across the street when they got here, a dozen men. They broke the door down, smashed the windows, and started chasing people out of the place. They must have been here for us. They just let everyone else get away. A couple of them were searching, smashing everything, and then they brought Cora outside and put her in a wagon. I wanted. .” His fists clenched. “I wanted to help her. But there was nobody on the street then. And I wanted to warn you, and the others-”

“It’s all right,” Raesinia said. Her stomach felt sick-not a sensation she encountered much anymore-but Ben was clearly on the point of hysteria and needed reassurance. “We’ll find her. Ben, listen. I have an idea. Once things calm down-”

“Actually,” said a voice behind them, “you’ll see her much sooner than that.”

There were two men in the shattered doorway, in shabby trousers and slouch caps. They looked like University students, but the one in front carried himself in a fighter’s crouch, and his compatriot held a cocked and loaded pistol. Raesinia froze.

“What?” said Ben, slightly slower on the uptake. “Who are you?”

“They’re Concordat,” Raesinia said. “I imagine they were waiting for us.”

“Very good.” The leader inclined his head slightly. “I am Andreas, and I do indeed serve His Grace the Minister of Information. You are Benjamin Cooper, I believe, and you are the mysterious Raesinia with all the bright ideas. Please don’t try anything heroic. My companion is an excellent shot.” His face was blank, but there was something hot and bright in his eyes, as though he wished they would try something. Raesinia risked a glance over her shoulder and saw another pair of figures through the window, waiting in the alley outside.

“What do you want?” Ben said.

Andreas shrugged. “His Grace would like you to answer a few questions. If you’ll come with us, I assure you that you will not be harmed.”

Fuck. Raesinia ran through scenarios in her head. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Andreas obviously hadn’t recognized her on sight, but if she was taken to the Vendre, it would only be a matter of time. A quick escape might work, but it would leave Ben behind. And Sothe is halfway to the Vendre herself by now. She spit a silent curse at herself for ignoring her maid’s advice. Of course Orlanko would leave someone to watch the place. Oh, saints and martyrs.

Now what?

Her eyes flicked to Ben and she found him looking back at her. Raesinia’s heart gave a sickening lurch as she realized he was about to do something stupid.

No, no, no, I’ll think of something. Don’t -

“Raes, run!”

Ben threw himself forward, head lowered like a bull. He covered the distance to the doorway surprisingly quickly for someone of his bulk, but not quickly enough to prevent the Concordat agent from pulling the trigger. Raesinia saw blood spray from Ben’s back, but the impact wasn’t enough to stop him, and he crashed into the gunman with all the momentum he could muster and slammed him against the opposite wall, sending the pistol clattering to the floor.

Andreas spun sideways, slick as an eel, still blocking the corridor leading to the front room. Raesinia forced herself into motion, hard on Ben’s heels. She bounced off the corridor wall, faked one way, and darted the other, trying to slip past the Concordat agent’s outspread arms. He followed her easily, and as she tried to squirm by he grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her back toward him. His other hand went to her elbow, palm out, forcing her arm into a painful lock and pushing her to the floor.

At least, that’s how it would have worked on any normal human being. Raesinia let him pull her around, gritted her teeth, and kept coming. Something in her elbow went crunch , and then the bones of her forearm broke with an audible snap . The second of surprise this bought her was enough to deliver a quick kick to the back of Andreas’ knee, folding his leg up around the blow and sending him toppling to the floor. Raesinia met his jaw with one of her knees on the way down for good measure. She heard the clack as his teeth met, and his hands slipped off her shattered arm.

Ben was still on his feet, barely, with the other Concordat agent slumped against the wall in front of him. The front of his shirt was slick with blood, as though someone had hit him full in the chest with a bucket of red paint. She grabbed his arm with her good hand and pulled, and he stumbled into motion, but the movement sent fresh waves of red into his already sodden clothing.

The common room of the Mask was shattered and empty. By the time they reached the front door, Ben was weaving, and his legs gave out after they’d taken a few steps into the cobbled street. Raesinia tried to support him, forgetting that she had only one arm to do it with, and they both went down in a tangled, gory heap. Raesinia pushed herself up one-handed, letting Ben roll onto his back.

He gasped for air and tried to speak, but his voice was so thin she had to bend close to hear.

“Run,” he said. “Raes. . run. .”

Instead she shouted for help. A few eyes had already turned their way, but it took a moment for the crowd to realize what was happening. Then a woman screamed, high and shrill, and people surged forward in an effort to find out what was going on. Raesinia looked up at the Mask and thought she saw Andreas, framed in the rear door of the common room. He was gone almost at once. They won’t dare, she thought. Not in the crowd, not tonight. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have listened to Sothe. Oh, Ben. .

“A doctor!” she said, to the first young man whose attention she managed to catch. “I need a doctor. Now!”

But, turning back to Ben, she saw it was obvious that he had passed beyond the help of any earthly medicine. Blood pulsed from the hole in his chest with every heartbeat, but the stream was weakening into a trickle even as she watched. His lips moved, and she bent close to hear.

“Raes. .” His breath was ragged. “I. . I l. . lov. .”

“I know.” Her eyes were rimmed with tears. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it, Ben. Who did you think you were fooling?”

She leaned across his body, gore squishing in their clothes, and pressed her lips to his. His mouth was full of the warm, coppery taste of blood.

By the time she straightened up, even the trickle from his wound had ceased. Raesinia climbed wearily to her feet, her own shirt dripping and ruined, her face smeared with red. She straightened her arm and felt the binding going to work, broken ends of bone snapping together like a pair of magnets, the ruined joint rebuilding itself as muscles reknit around it.

She was surrounded by a ring of nervous onlookers, not wanting to get too close to the gory spectacle but pressed near by the mass of those behind who wanted to see. Raesinia touched the butterfly pin at her shoulder, leaving a smear of blood over the colors.

“This man was just murdered by a Concordat agent,” she said. Quietly at first, then again, louder. “This man was just murdered by a Concordat agent!”

I’m sorry, Ben. Whether or not she’d returned his love, he’d been her friend; one of her only friends, if she was being honest. Though, in an odd way, she thought he would approve of being used as a symbol. He would understand that we need to keep moving forward. Later, in private, there would be time to mourn.

“Who is in charge here?” she said, shouting to be heard over the babble that had broken out. She raised one red-stained hand to point a finger, scanning round the circle. “Who’s in charge?”