“Nobody cries.”
The door at the far end of the room swung open, and Reynald slipped in. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. He’d lost the cloak. He wore a dark gray shirt and dark pants, loose enough to move in but without much slack. His sword rested in his fingers, pointing down, almost an afterthought.
“Everyone sleeps,” Murt intoned.
Reynald moved across the room, silent as a ghost.
“And then everyone gets to keep their pretty teeth in their mou—”
It was so fast, I didn’t actually see it. Reynald had moved, the big guard fell mid-word, and Reynald wiped his sword on his sleeve.
I bolted out of the bed and shoved my feet back into my boots. Kaiden was looking at Reynald like he had seen a god in the flesh. Clover sat up in her bed, her face shocked. The little girls froze, not sure whether to cry.
I had to get the kids out of here. Clover was still sitting on her bunk.
“Get the kids.” I cleared the distance to the nearest child, the smallest girl, scooped her out of her bed, turned, and saw Talpot at the bottom of the stairs with a lantern, his eyes wide.
We hadn’t heard the door open. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He had snuck in, the slimy bastard.
Reynald sprinted toward him.
“Guard!” Talpot screamed, fumbling for the knife on his belt. “Gahh!”
Reynald’s blade slid into Talpot’s chest, once, twice, so fast, like a scorpion stinging. Reynald turned his back to him and walked away.
Talpot dropped his knife. His mouth gaped open. He struggled to say something, but no sound came. Pink foam bubbled up on his lips. A faint hissing noise came from his chest. A collapsed lung. The air was rushing into Talpot’s chest through his wounds with every breath, compressing his lungs and his heart. He would die slowly, in pain.
Talpot sagged to the floor. His neck veins bulged out, the skin gaining a slight blue tint. Fear squirmed in his eyes, raw and sharp, the terror of a man who knew he was dying and could do nothing to stop it. The dead boy’s face flashed before me.Good. Die, you scumbag. Be afraid and die.
Footsteps thudded, and two men charged into the room from the other door, cutting off our escape. They must’ve been in the kitchen and heard Talpot scream.
Reynald stepped toward them, his broad back to us. I backed away from him into a corner. Clover lunged for the stairs, holding two children by their hands, but I grabbed her and yanked her back, next to me and the boy.
“No! The safest place in this house is right here. Don’t distract him.”
She pulled the girls closer to her and wrapped her arms around them.
Reynald waited, his blade down.
The two guards advanced. Derog liked to hire beefy intimidating goons, the bigger the better. Reynald was about six feet tall, and these two towered over him. They were both larger and heavier than him by at least thirty pounds. The guy on the left was the scarred guard who had let me and Darotha in, and his coworker on the right looked like a seasoned brawler. No fat, just muscle, big arms, thick legs, and a mean look in his eyes.
The brawler hefted a wooden club, swung it, and roared, “He’s in the pen!”
The girl in my arms flinched. I hugged her to me and said, “Don’t be scared. This is already over.”
And once it was done, Reynald would walk us right out of here and go back in to paint the walls red.
The brawler charged, swinging the club. Reynald sidestepped as if he were floating and slashed across the brawler’s stomach. The other guard stabbed at the blademaster from the side, aiming for his neck. His blade pierced only air. Reynald slashed at the man’s extended arm, opening a gash above his wrist. The guard dropped his sword and howled, red drenching his hand.
The brawler fell, clutching at his gut.
It was insanely fast. They’d clashed in a blink, and now one of them moaned on the floor and the other stumbled away, clenching his arm. Clap your hands once, and the clash was over.
Another guard ran down the stairs, a giant of a man, brandishing a huge sword. He had to be close to seven feet tall, broad, with long troll arms thicker than my legs and huge shovel hands. Where the hell did Derog even find this guy? What was he feeding him?
I held my right arm out and backed a little deeper into the corner, herding the kids behind me.
The injured swordsman grabbed his sword off the floor with his left hand. His right arm hung useless, dripping blood. The giant glanced at him.
