“Who are you?” Deven challenged.
“Mwa?” replied the man with a slur in his voice.
Deven put his hand on his blade. “Go back, you drunken fool.
This is the queen’s chamber.”
Trynne felt her pulse quicken with worry. Fallon’s attention was riveted on the newcomer. She too dropped her hands to her swords.
“This is wha . . . ?” the man said with a slur. He careened into the wall and then staggered, dropping to one knee.
And that’s when Trynne sensed the second man in the shadows.
“You fool,” Deven said, shaking his head. “Get out of here.” He started to walk toward the man, to lift him to his feet and shove him back the way he’d come.
He’d be stabbed in the heart if he did that.
“Deven,” Trynne said in warning. The night-watch captain paused, turning to her in confusion.
The sound of Fallon’s sword scraping clear of the scabbard filled the air. Trynne drew hers only a moment afterward.
The man kneeling beneath the torch suddenly lunged to his feet, grabbing the torch and yanking it from the iron ring fastened to the wall. Trynne and Fallon both charged down the corridor toward him. The man with the torch swung it at Fallon’s face. Trynne raced past him, intent on catching the other man, who had turned to run.
She pumped her legs and arms, gaining ground. The man ducked around the corridor, and as she followed, she saw a small group of guards approaching from the far end with torches, talking in low voices amongst themselves. They also wore the queen’s tunic. The stranger was trapped between them.
“Stop him!” Trynne shouted ahead to them.
The guards had just enough time to draw their weapons before he reached them. The intruder attacked viciously, knifing one of the guards in the stomach and dropping him. The others tried to attack him, but he was far more skilled than they. His boot landed a kick to one of the soldier’s faces, propelling the soldier into the wall.
Trynne reached the scene moments later, summoning her magic to defend herself. The assailant turned and threw a dagger at her. It whistled past her ear as she dodged, and a moment later she was upon him, her sword arcing toward his side. The attacker stepped in so that her forearm struck him instead. He trapped her arm and his free hand shot up to her throat to crush it.
Trynne reacted instantly, kneeing him in the groin while she brought her other arm up to defend her neck. Shouts from the other guards filled the corridor, although most were sprawled helplessly.
She released her sword and tried to knee him again, but he pivoted his body and swung her around. They were both about to fall, him on top of her. That would be the end. Reflexively, she seized his belt, tugging on it just so, and she ended up on top of him instead of the other way around. Trynne jabbed his throat with the heel of her palm and he started choking. One of the soldiers managed to stab him in the chest with his longsword.
Trynne hit his face next, crushing his nose, and then jumped away from him as he twitched and convulsed on the floor. She was breathing fast and hard, terrified, yet in control. Another soldier stabbed him again, delivering the deathblow.
Soon Fallon appeared around the corner, his eyes wide with worry. When he saw her standing, he sighed with relief. The other sentries had backed away from the dead attacker, gazing at him in surprise.
“He . . . he was a kishion,” the man said, gibbering in fear.
When Fallon and Trynne returned to the corridor leading to the queen’s room, they found the queen herself standing next to Deven, her lips curled with anger.
“Two of them?” the queen said in outrage.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Deven said, still in shock from the sudden attack. “They came to kill you. I have no doubt of it. These new guards saved your life.”
The queen turned her gaze on Fallon and Trynne. Then her eyes locked on Trynne’s. “I felt something in the corridor. Sensed it.
It was you, wasn’t it? Come closer. Who are you?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hil el Lavender
The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Drag the carcass away, you two. You, remain here.” Her gaze was fixed on Trynne.
Deven promptly obeyed and hefted the dead man beneath the arms. Fallon shot Trynne a concerned look, his jaw clenching, but after a brief pause, he grabbed the dead man’s ankles and hoisted him up. The Tay al-Ard pressed against Trynne’s back—a tantalizing reminder that she could escape. But she wouldn’t leave without Fallon.
“Your Majesty?” Trynne asked in a submissive voice.
The queen stepped closer, studying her face. “What is your name?”