Commander Dessen leered down at her with dark eyes, one hand caressing the whip at his side. “I thought I saw you go this way. Inspecting your handiwork?”
“It was a good kill, Commander.” She immediately stood taller beneath his attention. Feet together, shoulders back—a good soldier, just like he expected to see. He needn’t know that he repulsed her nearly as much as the pile of carcasses.
“Come now, Kasira, I’ve told you before. It’s Harker when we’re alone.”
They weren’t alone. Jevin and another Malik stood at the tree line at his back, but their eyes were set on the woods beyond in a clear message:We see nothing.
Dessen swayed where he stood, but his eyes were steady on her, pupils blown wide and black. His hand tightened on his whip. “That said, no matter your reason for coming here, you are still breaking curfew. That’s two infractions in one day, criminal.”
Kasira was painfully aware of her lack of weaponry. She had a single knife, her sword left behind in her tent, though this was notthe sort of problem steel could solve. Next, Dessen would illustrate how delicate her situation was before pressing what he really came for—her.
“Come here.” He crooked a finger. She didn’t move. His face darkened. “I don’t care how many beasts you slay. You remain here by my good graces alone, and I can just as easily return you to where you came from.” To Belvar, to her jail cell. To the four-by-four room of stone walls with no window, no light, no air.
“You’re making a mistake,” she warned. Her voice was calm, but her mind ticked through possibilities. Dessen was too drunk to be dissuaded with logic and just conceited enough to go through with this. She had been preparing for this moment ever since he’d arrived, his attention too quick to settle on her, but her contingency plan wasn’t ready yet.
Dessen emitted a low sound of frustration. “The mistake is yours. You are disobeying a direct order from your commanding officer.”
For most, that meant ten lashes, atop the ten for breaking curfew. For her, it would mean returning to Belvar. But obeying meant losing what little strength she had left.
Some part of her had wanted this confrontation. To be backed into a corner so tight she had no choice but to fight her way out. It was the same part that knew what she had been doing the past four years was a poor imitation of living, that even if she made it to the end of her ten-year service, there would be nothing left of her.
That was Dessen’s true mistake: He didn’t know what she was willing to do to survive.
Satisfaction bloomed across his face when she strode toward him. He expected her to bend to his will, to yield to the power he held over her.
He did not expect her to drive a knife into his leg.
His scream tore through the clearing, and she jerked the blade free, swinging for his neck. Some semblance of Malik training must have kicked in because he seized her by the elbow and wrenched her arm, forcing her to drop the knife.
She caught it with her other hand and drove it back into the same leg.
His guards reached them then, dragging her away as Commander Dessen clutched his thigh. His leathers would have taken the brunt of the damage, but he didn’t seem like the type who handled pain well. He didn’t hold it close, a familiar companion.
“On her knees!” Dessen shrieked.
“Sir, your leg—” began Jevin.
“Now!”
They forced Kasira to her knees with her back to Dessen, Jevin hissing in her ear, “About time someone put you back in your place, Kott.”
She only stared into the trees.
Con artists had many skills, from a knack for reading people to a talent for remembering details, but Kasira had never excelled at anything more than lying. To her marks, to her friends, even to herself—she crafted fallacies so intricate she sometimes lost herself in them, but she never let anyone see the truth.
Guard your heart, Loraya’s voice whispered, ever the teacher.Never let them see your fear. They will only use it against you.
Jevin and the other Malik drew her arms out to her sides, and she fought the reflex to brace for the first blow. She had been lashed before. The first time, she had struggled so violently they had made a mess of more than her back. After that, she had learned to stay still.
It came without warning, the whip tearing through her tunic and into the scarred skin of her shoulders in a searing line that took her breath away. Dessen struck again and again in quick succession, and she knew he would not stop until her back was a bloody, ravaged thing; that he had no intention of letting her survive; that if by some miracle she did, he would leave her here for the beasts. All she could think was that at least it was not the cell, the darkness so thick she didn’t know where it ended and she began.
At least, perhaps, she would see Loraya again.
“Stop!” The word cut through the roar of blood in Kasira’s ears. She felt the brush of the whip as Dessen snapped his hand back intime to restrain the blow. The voice spoke again, then the Malik shifted her around. A hand found her chin, holding her face up to the pale blue glow of a balestone.
The glare obscured her blurred vision so she couldn’t see their face. An order was given, and she was lifted over one of the Malik’s shoulders. Some part of her railed against the darkness encroaching on her vision. It wanted to kick and scream and tell whoever this person was that they had no right to interfere. But her body felt numb and distant, her eyes too heavy to hold open, and the darkness won.
KASIRA CAME TOin Commander Dessen’s tent to the murmur of voices and the scent of crackling wood.
