Dare (The Blades of Acktar Book 1) Read online

  Renna—the healer—picked up the small knife she’d set on the tray next to her. “Your shirt is stuck to your wound. I’ll need to cut it off.”

  Leith tensed. She could use that knife to cut more than his shirt. A stab to his stomach, a slice across his throat, that’s all it would take. His fingers clenched, but he didn't have his knives to defend himself.

  He peeked at her through slitted eyes. Should he remind them what'd happen if they killed a King's Blade?

  He felt a tugging on his shirt, a rush of air against his skin, as she sawed through the fabric. Her fingers brushed the base of his throat as she gripped the neckline of his shirt and sliced downward. He gripped the blankets spread beneath him and fought the instinct to knock her hand away.

  She wrung out a cloth, the water dripping, and pressed it against his wound. He gritted his teeth, locking the moan inside his mouth.

  A cloth dabbed at his forehead. Brandi’s voice bubbled above him. “What’s your name?”

  Renna tugged at the fabric stuck to the wounds. Leith couldn’t help moaning this time. Weakness. Vane would laugh if he saw Leith now.

  Small fingers touched his forehead. “It’s all right. You need to stay still so Renna can help.”

  Leith tried to focus on the cool cloth dabbing his forehead and cheeks. Brandi started humming. It wasn’t a tune he’d heard in the taverns he’d scouted.

  He fought for breath, and his voice strained through his teeth. “Leith. My name’s Leith Torren.” They ought to know. Maybe they’d take the time to carve it into a board for his grave.

  Who was he fooling? If he died tonight, he’d end up a body abandoned to the snow drifts, as unmourned as his father had been.

  “There.” Renna peeled the last shred of his shirt from the wound.

  Leith sensed Brandi leaning over him to get a better look at his wounds. “Oh, that looks bad.”

  He could hear Renna’s sigh. “I’m going to work on getting that arrow out now.”

  He managed a nod and braced for the rush of pain. She touched the shaft, and the arrowhead shifted. Agony rioted all the way to his toes.

  Blackness closed around him.

  3

  Renna felt his body go limp. His chest rose and fell. He still lived, unfortunately. At least it would be easier tending him while he was unconscious.

  She gritted her teeth and examined the arrow. It had a slim shaft like the arrows the local men used to hunt small game on the surrounding prairie. What had the Blade been doing in Stetterly to get himself shot? The possibilities turned her stomach.

  She couldn’t think about it now. She set to work removing the arrow. She couldn’t push it through without hurting him further. Instead, she used her knife to dig the arrow out.

  After several minutes, the small broadhead came free. She poured alcohol over the wound to clean it, stitched it closed, and laid a poultice over it. When she was finished, she wrapped the bandage around his waist and placed a blanket over him.

  She swiped her hair from her face with the back of her wrist. “Brandi, you should go to bed. It’s late.”

  “I’m not tired.” Brandi tossed her long, red-blond hair over her shoulder. “Besides, we never ate supper.”

  Renna slumped against the hearth. She’d forgotten about food. And she did need to explain to Brandi that their patient was a Blade. They’d have to be careful about what they said and did in front of him. “All right. Help me clean up, then we’ll grab something to eat.”

  Brandi hummed a psalm while they cleaned up the mess. Renna’s stomach clenched. Had the Blade recognized it? If he had, he’d know they were Christians. He’d guess they attended one of the secret churches. He’d tell King Respen…and Renna and Brandi would be arrested.

  “Brandi.” Renna gripped her sister’s shoulders, pulled her from the room, and closed the door. Her breath frosted silver in the unheated corridor. “I need you to listen carefully. This is really important.”

  Brandi's blue eyes darted to Renna’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  Renna waved at the door. “He’s a Blade.”

  Brandi’s mouth formed an O as wide as her round eyes. “And we just fixed him up?”

  “It was the right thing to do. God tells us to love our enemies.” The words grated on her tongue. She was trying to mean them. “But we’re going to have to be careful. He could get us in a lot of trouble. He reports directly to King Respen.”

  “What are we going to do?” Brandi paled and bit her lip. As much as she hated the fear in Brandi’s eyes, Renna needed Brandi to be afraid.

  “Be careful. Don’t mention church. Don’t mention Uncle Abel is the minister. Don’t mention our Bibles. Don’t hum psalms. Don’t…” Renna wanted to lay out a few more rules, but Brandi’s eyes were already as wide as they would go. “Just don’t do anything…Christian.”

  Brandi nodded. Did she understand how serious this was? One mistake and he’d report them to King Respen.

  With her lecture out of the way, Renna re-heated some stew for supper. If Uncle Abel was there, he’d tend the fires through the night. That responsibility now fell to Renna. She didn’t want to run between three rooms, so they’d have to sleep in the kitchen…with the Blade.

  They dragged a large mattress from one of the bedrooms and plopped it in one corner of the room. Renna would’ve preferred to sleep closer to the fire, but their unwanted guest was currently passed out there. Considering all the blood he’d lost, he needed to be near the fire to keep his body warm.

  Brandi curled up under the blankets and promptly fell asleep. Renna watched her for a while, soaking in her sister’s stillness. Brandi’s mouth hung open, a line of drool inch-worming down her cheek, a snuffling snore pouring out. Only her sister could make drooling and snoring look adorable.

  Renna leaned over their patient, added a few more logs to the fire, and perched on the edge of the mattress next to Brandi. They had a Blade in their kitchen.

  What if the Blade found their Bibles? It wouldn’t matter that they didn’t participate in the Resistance. King Respen would assume they did. He’d have them tortured and killed. The Blade lying in front of their fire might even carry out that order.

  Their Bible. She shot to her feet. They had a Bible hidden in the kitchen. She should move it before the Blade woke up.

  Tiptoeing across the room, she eased one of the cabinets open. Several sacks lined up on the shelf. She reached past the first row and pulled out a bag of beans from the back. Digging into it, she drew out the book hidden in the seemingly innocent bag.

  Returning the beans to the cupboard, she hesitated, the book heavy in her hands. Where should she hide it? A drawer in a room would be no safer than here if the Blade gained enough strength to search the manor. None of their other Bibles would be safe either.

  As the pages fanned in her hand, she caught a glimpse of her favorite verse. The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

  Renna gripped the book tighter. An ache gnawed at her stomach. Someday King Respen would deem her and Brandi a threat to his throne. They were only cousins to the royal family, daughters and not sons, ineligible to inherit the throne. But if they ever married, if they ever had sons, King Respen couldn’t allow them to live.

  “What’re you reading?”

  The voice startled her. Her heart leapt from her throat to her mouth. The Blade blinked at her, his green eyes shadowed. Renna hid the Bible behind her back. She’d hesitated too long. Had he gotten a good look at it?

  Setting the Bible on a bench out of the Blade’s sight, Renna tried to remain calm as she walked across the room and knelt beside him. “You’re awake.” Maybe if she distracted him, he’d forget about the Bible. “How are you feeling?”

  He stared at the bench, his eyes narrowed, before turning his gaze to her. “Like I got shot with an arrow.”

  She could hear the strain in his voice. He still could die from the w
ounds, and he knew it. In a way, that was a relief. She wouldn’t have to lie to him like she did some patients.

  His eyes pierced her. “Water?”

  Renna couldn’t deny him water. Besides, she needed to give him laudanum to send him back to sleep so she could sneak the Bible from the room. And it would dull his pain, something that should’ve been her first concern as a healer.

  She dipped a tin cup into the water bucket on the wooden countertop and returned to his side. Lifting his head, she held the cup to his mouth. “Small sips.”

  He drew in a sip, holding it in his mouth as if savoring it before swallowing. He managed three more sips before Renna laid him down. “I’ll give you more in a moment, but first let me get you some laudanum.”

  Renna fetched the vial from Aunt Mara’s cabinet of supplies and measured the drug onto a spoon. Raising his head again, she poured the spoonful into his mouth and helped him wash the taste away with more water.

  As she laid his head on the blanket, his eyelids fluttered closed. His breathing slowed, much steadier than it had been several minutes ago.

  Renna blew out a breath. This time, he really would sleep for hours. She’d given him enough drug to keep him under until morning. She clasped her hands. There was one thing—a rumor—she had to check. If she dared.

  She gripped her hands tighter until her knuckles showed white. She should do it now, while he slept.

  Holding her breath, she eased the blanket back from his shoulders. He didn’t stir as she tugged the right side of his shirt off his shoulder. The firelight played over parallel lines of scars marching down his arm. Renna started counting but stopped once she reached twenty. She couldn’t bring herself to count anymore. He must have over thirty marks.

  Her breath scraped in short gasps. Only a high-ranking Blade could have that many marks.

  Her hands shaking, she tugged his shirt from his left arm. No marks. He’d never failed. Never.

  They were going to die. Renna sat back on her heels, shaking from head to toe. What had she done in healing him? Had she helped kill her own family?

  4

  The first thing he felt was a clawing pain deep in his stomach. Leith fought to draw in another lungful past the agony. Next to him a fire crackled. A waft of heat brushed across his face.

  He heard movement in the room near him, clanging dishes, chattering voices. Forcing his eyes open, he glanced around. The two girls sat at the table, heads bowed over slices of bread.

  Leith felt a shiver not caused by the pain. They were praying. Not out loud, but he could guess at what their posture meant. Last night, he’d caught sight of the Bible Renna had been holding. She’d been terrified the moment she’d realized he was awake. No wonder. He was a Blade. He’d report what he’d seen to King Respen.

  As Renna raised her head, Leith closed his eyes to slits. She glanced at him, and the tense set of her shoulders relaxed.

  When she turned back to her bread, he let his eyes close all the way. They deserved to eat their meal in peace. He dozed. The fire popped. The blizzard wind whined across the chimney.

  The chairs scraped on the wooden floor. Water splashed. Pewter dishes clanked together. Leith opened his eyes once again. The girls had their backs to him, laughing and splashing each other with bubbles as they scrubbed their dishes.

  He studied their slim figures. Renna’s braid swung against the back of her worn, blue dress. She stood a few inches taller than her sister. Brandi’s hair gleamed against her faded, green dress as she bounced on her toes. Were the girls servants? Yet he hadn’t seen or heard anyone else. Could they be the surviving ladies of Stetterly?

  The laughter shriveled the moment Renna turned around. She straightened, her mouth flattening into a hard line. “Brandi, can you take care of the chores?”

  “Right now?” Brandi’s whole body heaved with a sigh. She set down the dish towel and slumped to the pegs by the door.

  She took her time bundling up in her scarf, mittens, boots and cloak before she unbarred the door. The blizzard blasted in, whipping snow around the room. She shoved outside, yanking the door closed behind her.

  As soon as she was gone, Renna twisted her hands together in front of her. Leith noted the whiteness around her mouth. Fear was her weakness. All weaknesses could be exploited.

  She pulled her shoulders straight. “Which Blade are you?”

  Why did his rank matter to her now? He glanced down at himself and caught sight of his bare right shoulder, his first mark peeking over the blanket.

  She'd seen his marks and counted the number of scars lining his arm. He met her gaze. “I’m the Third Blade.”

  “Third Blade.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, hunching over. “We’re going to die, aren’t we? The King’s Third Blade.” She squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners.

  “I might still die.” Leith sucked in a breath past the pain in his gut. While the wound felt better without the arrowhead grinding deeper, his pain went too deep for an easy and assured recovery.

  He clamped down on his fear. He couldn’t give her more weakness. She’d seen enough last night. “That’d solve your problem.”

  “No, it won’t.” She swiped at her eyes and shuddered. “We’re dead either way. If you don’t die, you’re bound to see things you’ll report to the king. If you do die, the king will send men to investigate. He won’t calmly take the death of one of his Blades, much less his Third Blade.”

  Leith closed his eyes. King Respen would investigate her village regardless of Leith’s recovery or death. A Blade had already died.

  Leith could stop an investigation. He could protect this girl, neglect to tell the king the things he’d seen. But Leith had never withheld information from King Respen before.

  Leith met her blue eyes. She’d taken him in, cared for him, yet his presence rewarded her kindness with danger. He should tell her things would be fine. He owed her that much. But he couldn’t lie to her. “I’m sorry.”

  What had prompted her to tend him? Most of her problems would’ve been solved had she placed him back on his horse to let him freeze or bleed to death, whichever came first. A frozen corpse found after a blizzard wouldn’t point to her family.

  Leith glanced down at his shoulder once again. “Not all of my marks are killings.” The words slipped out before he could reconsider.

  Why had he defended himself? He had thirty-four successful marks. No failures. He’d earned his place in King Respen’s Blades. He didn’t need to defend his actions. Yet, her hunched shoulders begged for something from him.

  She backed into the opposite wall. “Most are, aren’t they? Were my parents one of those marks?”

  “Who were they?” His chest tightened. In this manor, the odds were high he’d recognize the names.

  She bowed her head, remaining silent for several moments. With a breath that heaved her shoulders up and down, she lifted her chin and met his gaze. “My parents were Laurence and Annita Faythe, Lord and Lady of Stetterly.”

  Leith’s breath caught in his throat. Those names carried blood-stained knives, frantic screams, heart-wrenching tears. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t kill your parents. The Second Blade killed your father, the First Blade your mother.”

  He turned his face toward the fire. Should he tell her the rest of it? If he did, she'd refuse to help him. But he'd seen the look in her eyes. She'd already guessed too much to be fooled with a lie. “I kept your father’s men from saving them.”

  She made a sound, something in between a cry of pain and a sob. She probably hadn’t known all the details of that night. She would’ve been about thirteen, an innocent girl spirited away by her father’s sister while her parents kept the Blades busy.

  Leith held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t ask the next question. He was the Third Blade, one of the original eight Blades who’d helped Lord Respen take over the kingdom. The night Lord Respen had overthrown King Leon, Leith had the task of killing the king’s second son.


  He met her gaze. He could see the question building in her eyes. He didn’t want her to ask. He didn’t feel guilty or anything like that. Of course not. Still, the idea of telling Renna—the girl he owed his life—that he’d killed her cousin made him…uncomfortable.

  She turned away and stared into the fire without asking, though the pinched lines around her eyes told him she’d guessed enough.

  Leith pressed his hand to the bandages around his waist. She wouldn’t continue to help him now. He’d helped kill her parents. He’d killed her cousin.

  Perhaps he should climb on his horse and ride into the blizzard. Maybe he could find somewhere else to rest until he recovered or died. It'd save these girls from King Respen’s investigation and pay the debt he owed them.

  He braced himself and tried to sit up. Pain stabbed through his stomach. Collapsing onto the blanket, he squeezed his eyes shut, sucking short breaths through his teeth.

  Footsteps padded across the room. A cold hand touched his forehead. “Lie still. Don’t try to move.”

  Leith fought the black dots bursting behind his eyelids. He didn’t understand the kindness in her voice. By any reason on this earth, she should hate him to her core. “I should…leave. It would…spare you.”

  Her hand stilled. She looked away, tendrils of hair flinging around her face. Thoughts played across her eyes, though Leith couldn’t read their meaning. He half-hoped and half-dreaded she’d agree with him.

  Her hand pressed against his blanket-clad shoulder. “Don’t move. You’ll tear the stitches.”

  “Why try to save me?” By right, she should enjoy his pain, small payment for the years of pain he’d caused her. The lack of understanding itched at him. No one gave anything without expecting something in return. His father taught him that lesson years ago.

  “I can’t in good conscience refuse to help you or ask you to die in the blizzard.” Her voice and face strained. She buried her face in her hands.