Defiance (Rise of the Iliri Book 3) (12 page)

Chapter 13

Getting through the city gates of Dorton was easy.  Not a single guard stopped Sal to check for weapons, which was odd with the hilts peeking above each shoulder.  She pulled her worn cloak tighter around her, the faded material masking her immaculate armor beneath.  In one hand she carried her helm, the other entwined with Jase's. 

"Make sure you tell the mutts they're full Blades?" she asked, last minute concerns flickering across her mind.

"Nah, I think that'll be yer job.  Breathe, kitten.  Ya know ya got this."

She nodded and, with him at her side, pushed through the crowd.  Just before they reached the Palace doors, he pulled her into a nook between two buildings.  Sal stripped off her worn cloak and passed it to him.  He tossed it casually over his shoulder, his twilight eyes staring into hers passionately. 

"Do ya remember that first night ya kissed me, Sal?"

"Yeah.  You called to my body like a flame, and I couldn't think about anything else no matter how hard I tried."

"I'd wanted ta kiss ya for so long, and when it happened, I did na know what ta do."  He smiled at her sadly, his eyes searching hers.  "Are ya scared, kitten?" 

"I am.  Not a lot, but a bit, yeah."

His answer was to wrap her in his arms and kiss her deeply.  It was frantic and desperate, but exactly what she needed.  When their lips parted, he pushed his sleeves to his elbows and looked at her again.  "Ya have yer steel knife on ya?"

She nodded, confused.

"Ok, lemme have it.  Ya will na be using it t'day, and worst case..." His shrug took the place of words.

"I'd rather it ends up with you than with some metal-hungry guard?  You're right." 

She slid the knife from its sheath, but before she could turn the blade, he caught her hand, closing her fingers tightly on the hilt.  She paused, looking up at his eyes.  He didn't look away.  Without a hint of submission, Jase moved the steel to his forearm.  The corners of his lips twisted higher – then he cut.  Sal felt flesh part easily beneath the sharp edge, and Jase sighed.  She watched his eyes change, the pupils contracting to mere slits at the taste of the pain.  So close, she could smell the sharp tang of his excitement and her body reacted.  A surge of desire raced over her skin like tingles.  She wanted more.  Needed it.  He was so close and always willing.  Without thinking, she leaned in, but he held her back.

"Taste it, kitten.  I wanna taste my blood on yer lips."

Intoxicated by the bloodlust, she couldn't help herself.  She lifted his arm to her mouth and let her tongue slide along the cut, closing her eyes at the natural perfection of him.  One of his strong hands palmed the back of her neck, and he pulled her face up, forcing her to look at him.  Slowly, torturously, he brought his mouth to hers and flicked his tongue across her lips before delving inside.  With their mouths locked together, his mind entangled hers as tightly as his hands in her hair.

All she could do was cling to him.  A moan slipped out and she clawed at his shoulder, needing him closer.  Her nails pressed hard against the back of his neck.  One of his hands slipped to the dip of her back, sliding across the intricate rings like glass.  Too soon, he broke the kiss – and pushed her against the wall, wrenching her hands from his body.  She gasped with her need for more.

Panting just as hard as she was, his voice came out rough.  "I'm na a fool, kitten.  I'd never make it through those doors if I had yer marks on me, but I understand how this works.  If ya wanna sink those pretty teeth inta my body, ya'd better lay those swords b'fore the King."

His thumb brushed her cheek once, and he stepped back.  When she tried to follow, he pushed, again shoving her into the wall.  This time, his eyes were cold, not filled with the passion she needed so badly.  Then he turned and walked into the Palace without another word.  Sal growled, resisting her desire to follow him, to take him.  As she clenched her fists against the frustration, she realized what he'd done.  The maast took all fear.  It sharpened her senses.  It turned the world crystal clear.  Looking down, she found her steel knife still clasped tightly in her hand, his blood dripping softly from the edge.

She was ready.

The passions coursed through her veins, but she forced herself to relax in the darkness of that alcove, feeling her heart race for a reason besides fear.  That one cut changed her from a nervous soldier to the predator she had to be.  His blood and pain were the advantage she needed to live through this.  Lifting the edge to her mouth, Sal ran her tongue across it, tasting the hint of human sugar in his blood. 

Then she sheathed the blade and grabbed Jase's mind forcefully.  Her needs were shifting to anger. 
Don't you dare let me kill him, you bastard.

Ya may be Kaisae, but believe it or na, I
am
stronger than ya, Sal.  Ya will na kill a single man.  Na today, kitten. 

His tone had changed.  The submissive lover was gone, replaced with authority and defiance.  She could feel Jase against her mind, and she found his new strength alluring.  It made her want to rush in after him, but she couldn't.  Not yet.  She had to wait until the Marquis of Valmere had been made a king.

In her dark corner, time passed slowly.  She checked her weapons, making sure each blade was sheathed with the edge the way she wanted.  When that was done, she fit her helm over her pale hair, leaving only her white eyes visible beneath, and made one last check of her gear.  A few buckles needed adjustment and straps got checked.  Full armor, two swords and one steel dagger – if she lived through this, she was going to make one hell of an impression on this archaic country. 

Ok, kitten, yer on.  The crown's on his head,
Jase told her as she heard the cheers of the crowd from the palace. 
Move.

Her fear was gone, the maast having replaced it with with a desire to do more and do it better.  Sal stepped from between the buildings, her feet shoving against the ground, but she held herself to a walk.  At the door, a guard saw her and called out, but Sal refused to change her pace.  Three men raced to secure the entrance, their pikes held to block her path. 

Her lip lifted and a growl rumbled in her throat as she allowed her instincts to take control.  Think fast, Blaec had told her.  He had no idea what that meant when she was in the grips of the maast.

Sal grabbed the guard closest to her and flung him out of her way.  She turned to the next before his mind could react and snatched the pike from his hands.  Using the butt to knock his legs out from under him, she ended the swing in the diaphragm of the third.  The men crumpled to the ground like forgotten toys.

Less pretty, damn it,
Jase snapped. 
They know yer here.

She dropped the pike and ran as her eyes dilated, adjusting to the darkness of the interior.  There was a door at the end of the hall.  That was her first goal.  From the side, a man rushed her.  She crashed into him, rolling easily across his back, and continued on.  The next came at her with a sword.  This time, she slid along the ground, using her hands to propel her forward again as she rose.  More guards rushed behind her, their tromping feet loud in her ears, but they were already too late.  As she reached the door to the Petitioner's Hall, a man cried the alarm and reached for her.  She grabbed him by the neck and shoved her elbow into his face.

Forward!
Jase screamed in her head.

She dropped him, but her feet had barely slowed.  The Petitioner's Hall was filled with citizens.  She could feel Jase slipping through the crowd, making for the Throne Room.  Sal ducked between the bodies and glanced up.  The balcony was littered with archers, each nocking an arrow.  Their faces followed her movements through the citizens.  Desperate to get out of their sight, she ducked low and slid between bodies like the assassin she was.  Her dark armor made her nearly impossible to spot with a human's pathetic vision.

The crowd stops at the last column.  I count ten men within reach,
Jase updated.

Searching for that spot, she moved to the side, breaking through the line of guards from an angle they hadn't expected.  The man to her left was brazen enough to grab her.  Snarling behind her helm, she threw him into the men on the other side, knocking a few from their feet as she pushed forward again. 

One of the guards swung his weapon behind her.  She heard it cut through the air, hopping slightly to avoid it but never slowing.  On the far end of the hall, a large window marked her destination.  It's light cast a halo on the throne beneath it.  She was almost there.

Archers.  Eyes up, kitten.

Now in the open, she was a fast moving but easy target for the snipers along the balcony.  Bows twanged as the arrows were released, and she changed directions drastically.  The shafts clattered to the stone, allowing her to resume her mad dash to the King.  A sharp whine was the only warning she got; one archer had loosed his arrow late. 

Sal threw herself down, feeling the sweet touch of pain as the tip sliced across the gap at her throat.  Her shoulder slammed into the ground and she looked up.  Steel grey eyes stared back before she rolled to her feet.  Running as hard as she could, she reached to check the wound on her neck.  A few more millimeters and she'd still be laying on the floor.

Damn it Jase, watch the grey-eyed one!
she snapped.

I am.  Now run damn it,
he commanded.

Blood trickled down her neck, under her armor, as she ran at the guards ahead of her.  They stood ready, a line of shieldmen with pikes ready behind them, all pulled back in a tight circle around the dais.  Sal smiled behind her helm.  The fools were making this too easy. 

When she got into range, a pikeman swung at her, and she ducked. But her feet reached higher.  One foot landed on the pike, pushing it to the ground as she moved faster.  The edge of a shield became her next step, and then the shoulder of a man.  At the top of the human pile, she pushed as hard as she could, the maast making her muscles surge with power.  She jumped, her body flying over the heads of the guards below, and Sal pulled her knees out of reach.  Her eyes found her target as she descended toward the humans below her, and her instincts flared – her prey was in reach.

You will not harm him, kitten.  You can na this time. 
Jase's voice carried a soft power that cut through her frenzy.

She landed behind the guards, her offhand securing her balance, and she pushed herself back to her feet in one smooth motion.  The men behind her struggled to catch up, but Sal stormed forward, knowing they would never reach her in time.  Five steps.  With her eyes locked on the King's, she reached up with both arms and slid the blades from their sheaths. 

Resin glinted in the sunlight, sending pale bars of light back to play across his armor.  The King's eyes widened in fear, making her smirk as he pulled himself back in his throne, away from her.  Just when he was ready to scream, she knelt, calmly placing the blades at his feet, the pale hilt stained from the blood on her own hand.  But the guards were still coming. 

There was one thing that always made humans pause.  Sal reached behind her back.  The steel dagger sang as she pulled it, it's color unique in the hall.  For a moment, she held it up for the King to see, letting the light glint on real metal.  Then she released her fist, letting the blade clatter to the floor.  The metallic ring silenced the humans.

"I have run the gauntlet, Your Highness.  I claim my rights to the position of Sergeant at Arms and swear to defend your life with my own."  Her voice was only loud enough to reach the man cowering before her on the throne.

"Seize him!" a noble screamed from the side of the hall. 

The King looked into her pale eyes and raised his hand, stalling the movement of the guards closing in behind her.  He leaned forward, curious, and no longer afraid.  "Do you swear fealty to me – and to Anglia?" he asked, his voice just as soft.

"I will swear to you, Highness, but I cannot swear to Anglia.  I will swear to honor Anglia so far as it does not jeopardize my loyalty to the Conglomerate."

He nodded.  His face was young, but his eyes were far wiser than she'd expected.

"Why?"

"Sire," she said softly, "the iliri need you, and I'm the best you can get."