Reign Shadowfell's Arc

Chapter 23 of 29

The lamps had burned low. Lyla and Lux slept curled together in the far bed, her arm over the imp's small shoulder. Vixen sat by the window with a whetstone across her knees. Reign was cleaning his palm at the basin when the knock came. Three soft raps. Then a voice through the wood, low and easy. "Come outside so no blood gets spilled in the inn." Boots moved off down the hall, heavy and unhurried. Vixen was at the window before Reign finished drying his hands. She pulled the curtain a finger's width. "Three in the street," she said. "Plus the one walking down the hall." She looked back at him. Her yellow eyes caught the lamp. Reign smiled. He felt the hunger wake under his ribs, clean and quiet, like a dog lifting its head. "Good," he said. "I was getting hungry." He lifted the red stone from his shirt and tucked it back under the cloth so it would not catch light in the street. He woke Lyla with a hand on her shoulder. She sat up at once, red hair loose, eyes already sharp. He did not need to explain. She reached for the small knife under her pillow and slid off the bed without a sound. Lux stayed asleep. Vixen touched the imp's horn, murmured something, and he curled tighter and did not stir. "Let him sleep," she said. "He earned it." Reign nodded. He went to the door and drew the bolt back slow, one notch at a time, until it cleared the plate without a click. He stepped into the hall. The man in the corridor was broad, leather-clad, a short blade already in his hand. He had turned at the sound of the bolt and had not expected Reign to be that fast. Reign closed the gap in two strides. He caught the wrist, twisted the blade down into the floorboards, and put his other hand under the man's jaw. He did not bite. He held. "Who sent you," he said. The man's eyes rolled toward the stairs. That was answer enough. Reign broke his neck against the wall and lowered him quiet. Behind him, Lyla shut the door on Lux and followed. They went down the back stair. Vixen took the alley mouth. Lyla took the doorway. Reign walked into the street alone with the amulet warm against his skin. The three men saw his face and saw his eyes and one of them said a name under his breath that was not Reign's. It was hers. Merida's. Reign heard it and knew, before a single blade left its sheath, that these men had known his mother. He let the first one draw. Then he moved. When it was done, two lay in the gutter and the third knelt with Vixen's claws at his throat, alive, ready to talk. Reign wiped his mouth. First light was still hours away, and he had a prisoner who had spoken his mother's name.