33
Toran
Toran woke in the middle of the night.
He hadn’t been asleep. But he hadn’t been awake, either. He sat under the windowsill in his bedroom in the Siren’s Hair, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of Nes and Loriana to notice the time passing him by.
Hand braced on the windowsill, he stood on shaky legs.
From what he could see, no lanterns were lit. No light to be seen in the streets. Nes should be asleep by now.
He sucked in a heavy breath. His chest was tight, and behind his lids, his eyes stung from exhaustion. He rubbed them. He shouldn’t have told her about his feelings for Loriana. Whatever there had been between them, he’d screwed it up. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if he and Nes had always been destined for ruin.
He wished he could talk to Quint. He needed a friend. But Quint was all the way on the other side of the city in the guards’ barracks.
So he was left to his thoughts. A dangerous thing on any occasion.
He crossed to the window on the opposite wall and blinked down at the dark street. It was, for the most part, empty. Stalls were boarded up, tarps draped over tables while flags hung limp over doorways. A few figures crouched in alcoves or under window ledges, huddled in on themselves. He didn’t know if they were asleep or dead.
He did want to help these people. Of that he’d been honest.
A sound floated up the staircase and down the hall to his open door. Someone downstairs was awake. He crossed the room to the doorway and stuck his head out, listening for movement. It came again, softerthis time. It could be anything. Someone searching for a midnight snack or a wanderer trying to get out of the cold. But something inside urged him to investigate.
He headed downstairs, avoiding the creaky steps. On the first floor, his eyes honed in on the empty tables and stools. The front door looked shut tight. When he faced the bar on the far wall, he halted.
There was the still form of Nes, stretched out on top of the bar, and Fell crouched over her. Fell was whispering something in her ear and had…
That was a knife he pressed to her throat.
His heart seized. “Nes!”
Fell’s head snapped toward his voice, and Toran watched as Nes took advantage of the distraction to knee Fell in the balls. The captain winced but didn’t roll off her. Fell leaned forward and slid his knife along Nes’s exposed throat.
Even in the dark, Toran saw the blood. Black in the night, it rolled out onto the blade, hiding the shine of silver, and began to coat Nes’s neck like thick dew.
He raced forward, but he was too slow. He could do nothing as he watched Nes punch Fell squarely in the jaw then kick him off her. The knife flew from Fell’s hand, skittering across the floor toward Toran. Nes wiped her sleeve against her neck and advanced on Fell.
There were two things Toran could see clearly—how Nes’s hand shook and the fear falling over Fell’s features. He’d never seen such a look on the older captain. All at once, it was deeply satisfying and horribly terrifying.
Toran picked up the knife.
Terror still wide in Fell’s eyes, the captain launched himself at Nes, tackling her to the ground. He wrapped his hands around her bloodied neck. His muscles strained as he tried to squeeze the life out of her. She fought him, but it was clear to Toran she wouldn’t win.
He rushed for her. He didn’t know what he was doing until the knife was buried deep in Fell’s back.
Captain Fell grunted and gurgled, blood spilling from his lips. Knife still in his back, Fell collapsed on top of Nes. She scampered out from under him, her feet sliding against the floor in her haste to get away.
She gasped, ragged and wet, and when Fell did not, Toran knew the man was dead. His eyes warred with him, unable to choose who to stare at: Nes or Fell’s body.
At last, he honed in on Nes, on the neck she was wiping clean with the back of her sleeve. He recalled the way the knife had glinted then dimmed as Fell slashed her throat. He lurched forward, cursing.
“Are you all right?” he asked, reaching for her.
She nodded, her hands wrapping around her neck like a scarf. He tried to pry her fingers away, but they wouldn’t budge.
“He cut you,” he whispered, not sure if Nes was listening to him. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine.”
