Anna Stephens - Bloodchild

‘Assassination, rebellion, insurrection. The usual,’ she said flippantly, but Vaunt wasn’t taken in by her act.

His face paled. ‘Assassination? Corvus?’ he guessed and she blinked acknowledgment. He ran distracted hands through his hair. ‘That’s a big ask, Carter.’

She waved it away. ‘First things first: what do you know?’

He looked ready to argue, then slumped. ‘Not much. I haven’t been out of this room since they caught us at the King Gate, even though the rest labour from dawn to dark every day repairing the walls and gates.’

‘All right, listen up. You’re the only captives who haven’t been sold as slaves yet,’ she told him. ‘You and any soldiers still alive in the north barracks, but as I have no reason to go there, I can’t find out who’s left. Everyone else, every other civilian, now belongs to someone. You belong to the city itself, or the Mireces as a group, maybe. I don’t know why they haven’t sold you, but it can’t be out of a sense of fair play. So they’ve got something planned. I’m trying to find out what, but no luck so far. I’ll keep digging.’

‘And you?’

She tapped the heavy metal collar around her neck. ‘Oh, I’m special, I am. I was a gift to Valan the king’s second himself. Hence the need for a husband, though he’s … got a sort of honour, in a way. Hasn’t touched me yet, anyway.’

‘Carter—’

‘I’m your wife. Get used to calling me Tara. And don’t worry about it.’

Vaunt was grim, but he didn’t press and she was glad. ‘What else?’

‘The East Rank has been sent up the Tears and the Gil to subdue the towns and villages and take a tax in food and goods to send here. So that means there’re only Mireces guarding this place. That could give us an advantage.’

‘You want to start a riot?’

‘I want to start a fucking war,’ Tara snarled and then interrupted herself with a string of endearments and a giggle she could tell by Vaunt’s face he never expected to hear from her. The footsteps outside the cell paused and then carried on. More than one guard now, ready with their fists and clubs no doubt.

‘My orders are to kill Corvus and Lanta too, and for that I’m going to need a distraction. I’ll ready the palace slaves to fight and if we co-ordinate with an uprising among you lot, we can take this city back and kill every Mireces Raider we find, those two included.’

‘Shitting hell, Cart— Tara. You want to ghost Lanta and Corvus? That’s insane. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a decent plan, but the risk is huge,’ Vaunt said; then he pressed a finger to her lips and listened hard. Tara held her breath until he shook his head slightly and gestured at her to continue.

‘I think we’re past worrying about risks. Besides, no one knows I’m a soldier,’ Tara said with more confidence than she felt. ‘I’m in a good position as Valan’s property. There’re a lot of logistics to work out, but it’s doable. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. But it’s not just my orders. That Blessed Bitch Lanta has apparently come up with some insane plan to bring the Dark Lady back from death, a plan that involves Corvus’s sister Rillirin, who’s at large somewhere in Rilpor. Yes, I know how it sounds. The woman’s touched by the moon, madder than a frog in a skillet, but she believes , so if it comes down to it, I reckon she needs killing more than Corvus does. He’s just a man, after all; she’s got the power to resurrect a goddess.’

Vaunt scrubbed his fingers through his short beard. ‘Maybe I’m the one who’s gone mad,’ he muttered, ‘because that’s the craziest bloody story I’ve ever heard.’

‘Try being on this side of the slave collar,’ Tara muttered and then threw Vaunt back on to the bed and followed him down, a leg over his hips. A sudden rattling of the door, shaking it hard enough to dislodge the blanket, and faces crowding the window.

Vaunt shouted a curse and tucked Tara behind him against the wall as if to shelter her. His acting was good, and she felt a sudden urge to stay there with him and let him protect her for real. Just for an hour. Just a little while. Please, gods. Please.

Colonel Dorcas’s voice rose loud from the next room – cell – along, and the guards drifted reluctantly from the door again. Vaunt replaced the blanket, threading it between the bars this time to hold it firm.

He came back to the bed and managed a smile. ‘Good ears,’ he whispered approvingly, ‘I’d no idea they were there.’

‘You learn to sense it,’ she said and an involuntary shudder rippled down her back.

Some of the gleam went out of Vaunt’s face. ‘Are you really all right? Have you been hurt?’

‘Yes, I’m all right and yes, I’ve been hurt. What did you think would happen, I’d be showered with gifts? I’m a thing .’ She waved away his concern and her own scalding bitterness. ‘Sorry, ignore that. It’s nothing I can’t handle.’

Again, he didn’t press and again, she was grateful. ‘All right, I’ll let this lot know we’ve got someone on the inside and to be ready to fight. With luck and the Dancer’s grace, they’ll get word to the soldiers in the north barracks too. Anything else?’

‘Code words,’ Tara said. ‘Something to identify friendlies. It needs to be—’

Three metal-on-stone taps on the wall from the next room interrupted her and this time it was Vaunt who jumped on her, pinning her to the cot and forcing her legs apart with his knees.

Tara heard a mumbled ‘sorry’ against her mouth before his hand was inside the neck of her gown and fumbling at her breast band. She stiffened, hooking her fingers into claws to drive at his eyes, when the lock rattled and the door swung open without so much as a knock.

‘Godsfuckingdamnit, sir!’ Vaunt roared, leaping up off Tara and leaving her thoroughly dishevelled, one breast peeking from its restraint and her skirts halfway up her thighs. Vaunt stalked towards the guards smirking and staring and poked Bern in the chest with his finger. ‘One hour, you said. One hour of privacy for myself and my wife. Get the fuck out of my quarters immediately!’

Tara scrunched against the wall next to the cot, tidying herself and not having to fake the shock and anxiety on her face. She held out an imploring hand. ‘Tomaz, darling, don’t. They’ll hurt you.’

‘Listen to the little wifey, soldier,’ Bern snarled, ‘or you’ll lose that fucking finger and more besides.’ The flat of a dagger slapped Vaunt between the legs and he grunted, twitched and took a halting step back.

‘Hour’s up,’ Bern added and Tara slid off the bed.

‘No, it bloody well isn’t,’ Vaunt snapped and this time the guard sheathed his knife and then slapped him so hard across the face it spun him around. His eyes narrowed to murderous slits and Tara stepped quickly past him.

‘Your will, honoured,’ she said quietly, eyes downcast.

‘It isn’t,’ Vaunt insisted, but Tara turned and put her palms on the sides of his face.

‘Hush now, don’t make them angry. I’ll be back soon.’ She kissed him, and even meant it this time, wanting something of warmth and softness to remember. Something real. It seemed Vaunt wanted the same, because he wrapped his arms around her and his mouth parted under hers and his tongue flicked, gentle as a butterfly’s wing, over hers.

And then he pushed her away. ‘Stay safe, Tara,’ he murmured. ‘Do as you’re told and no harm will come to you. I love you.’

‘I love you too. I’ll visit again soon, I swear it.’

Vaunt kissed her knuckles. ‘I’ll be ready,’ he promised, his eyes telling her they all would. She stepped back, nodded once, and then walked to the open door and the waiting Mireces.