Morvir’s lips split into a grin. “And what will he think of an imposter?”
The truth was, she didn’t know what Allaster would do if he discovered she was a fraud. Mages caught breaking the Library’s laws were forced to return their magic and sent to their home nations for punishment. If he discovered her farce and banished her to Kalthos, Vera would send her straight back to Belvar.
She would not go back to a cell.
Perhaps, for once, the truth would save her. It was a risky move, but the only one she had left. “I work for Ambassador Vera,” she said, but no sooner were the words out of her mouth than she knew they were a mistake.
Morvir seized the front of her shirt, pulling her toward him. “What is that traitorous wretch planning?” If he’d been one of Vera’s, or even neutral enough to not want to involve himself in matters above his head, it would have worked, but this man seemed destined to destroy Kasira. He was one of the King’s men, and the King didn’t know what Vera was up to.
Kasira spit in Morvir’s face, and he recoiled. “I’ve convinced Allaster that I hate Vera. He won’t let you take me, no matter what you say. He’ll think it’s a ploy to weaken him.” She didn’t know if that was true, but neither did the nobleman.
Morvir’s eyes darkened, his grip on the knife shifting, and she realized too late that she had just given him a very good reason to kill her. He sprang forward, and Kasira kicked out with both feet, hitting him squarely in the chest. He lost hold of his knife as he flew back into his partner, and they crumpled to the floor.
Drawing a deep breath, she plunged into the web of magic and dragged it into herself. Her body resisted, her muscles screaming with pain, but she only pulled harder until something snapped. Power flooded her body, chasing away the dizziness and pain, and with one burst of strength, she ripped free of her bonds.
Both men were already back on their feet. Morvir had the sword drawn, the other, a pair of Jacari knuckle knives. She pulled a blade from her boot and seized Morvir’s fallen knife.
“I am going to beat my answers out of you, girl.” Morvir lunged, and she swung aside, sending him flying with a boot to his back before facing his partner. The man was quick for his size, but Kasira had magic flowing in her veins.
She dodged his strikes with ease, then slashed his forearms. He dropped his blades with a cry as she spun to avoid Morvir’s downstroke. His sword clanged against the stone floor, and she brought her foot down on his hands, knocking the blade loose.
Just like that, they were disarmed, and suddenly, all she could think about was what would happen if they told someone what they knew. If Vera’s plans were exposed to the King, he would put a stop to them, and Kasira would be left out to dry.
It wouldn’t be the first time she had killed to protect herself.
Hands seized her arms from behind, wrenching them back at a painful angle. She fought the man’s grip, but the magic that had moments ago been flooding through her had started to fade, exhaustion taking its place. Morvir grabbed her sword and thrust it toward her stomach.
It sank through flesh and muscle, down to the bone, but it didn’t touch Kasira. She crumpled to the floor where she had teleported to safety, leaving Morvir’s partner on the other end of the blade. The man let out a wet cough, blood spurting from his lips. Morvir, stunned but not deterred, ripped the blade free with a sickening squelch. The man fell and did not rise.
Morvir spun to face her, and Kasira switched her grip on the small knife. She fought to her knees and, with a flick of her wrist, sent theblade spearing through Morvir’s chest with inhuman strength. It clattered against the stone wall behind him, and he collapsed.
Kasira didn’t move right away. She felt for the wall behind her and, when she found it, buckled against it. Her body screamed in agony, her vision threatening to blacken, and she forced herself to take several deep breaths. Eventually, she swung up onto her knees and grabbed the sword, cleaning it on Morvir’s clothes before sheathing it.
The door clicked open, and the third accomplice peered cautiously inside. Kasira had the sword drawn and raised by the time she realized he was just a boy, his eyes bright with fear.
Shit, she thought.Shit shit shit.
The boy had to know the truth. It seemed unlikely Morvir hadn’t discussed it in front of him before grabbing her. And from the way the boy was staring at her, like he knew what was coming even as he refused to look at the bodies at her feet, made her sure of it.
To be a good con artist, you had to know which lines you were willing to cross before you reached them. That way, you never hesitated.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked hoarsely and prayed he would give the right answer, even if it was a lie.
A beat of silence in which his terrified face turned confused, then, “L-Lady Eirlana.”
“That’s right.” Relief unspooled in her chest, and she pointed to Morvir’s corpse with her sword. “What are you to him?”
The boy’s voice trembled. “His valet.”
“Not anymore.” She pushed off the wall, forcing herself to stand straight. “Tell no one what you saw here, or I will come for you. Do you understand?”
The boy stared at her, and she seized him by the collar. “Do you understand?”
“Yes!”
She released him and strode into the hall.
It was harder finding Allaster than she wanted to admit. Her body was drained from using magic, her thoughts muddied. Each step feltslower than the last, the urge to slump to the floor and let the darkness take her nearly overwhelming, but some faraway part of her knew that if she stopped walking, she wouldn’t start again.
