Sea of Quills (Tales of the Black Raven Book 2) Page 2

  Something cracked against the back of his skull. Ahren staggered, trying to catch himself as everything went black.

  #

  Throbbing pain greeted Ahren as he awoke on the floor, his vision blurred. Moonlight still shone through the office window. How long was I out? He started to rise when he heard a woman’s giggling whisper.

  “Hurry up.”

  Ahren froze. Rustling cloth, followed by a soft creak, came from the divan beside him.

  “No one saw us,” a man soothed. A metallic buckle clinked.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  Quick, soft kisses followed another groan from the sofa’s wooden frame. “I'm sure.”

  Holding the knot on the back of his head, Ahren took a long breath. Slow, rhythmic squeaks filled the room. As his vision cleared, Ahren rose and quietly stepped around the two lovers completely enraptured in each other’s embrace. With one quick motion, he opened the door and stepped outside. A shrill scream burst from the dark office as he shut the door behind him.

  Ahren darted down the hall, toward the music issuing from downstairs. Looking around to make sure no one was nearby, he stopped at a mirror and carefully pulled at the papier-mâché mask still covering his face. A quick rip of tearing adhesive at his temples, and he removed the white and silver façade, leaving a burgundy half-mask beneath. He dropped the old mask in a large vase standing in the hallway as he walked out onto the balcony overlooking the party and nonchalantly followed the staircase down.

  He searched the costumed guests below, desperate to find Karolina among them. But he knew better. She was nowhere in sight. Baron Skerkyv stood beside a polished column prattling with several young dandies in sickeningly violet and lemon costumes. Ahren cut through the crowd, straight to him.

  “Good Baron,” Ahren said with a slight bow. “I hope you are faring well this evening.”

  The hefty man gave a weak smile, barely concealing a questioning look. “I am; thank you.” He squinted through the gilded eyeholes. “My apologies; I have the most dreadful time recognizing anyone tonight.”

  “I understand,” Ahren chuckled. “Lord Preschet. We met at one of Count Prystin’s hunting parties last year.”

  “Of course, of course. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lord Preschet.”

  He was a terrible liar. The group of young men whispered among themselves, like gossiping maids. They obviously didn’t remember meeting Ahren before.

  “Pardon the interruption,” Ahren continued. “But I was hoping to have a dance with your beautiful lady. However, I can’t seem to find her anywhere.”

  “Ah, Natasha.” The baron shrugged. “I apologize, but she has already retired for the evening. She succumbed to a pain in her head, and I sent her home in my carriage.”

  “I see. Please give her my wishes for a quick recovery.” Ahren bowed then walked away.

  Curses flooded Ahren’s brain as he left the party. Stepping outside into the cold air, he spied the rows of luxurious carriages lining the pathway to the house. Fires burned in a pair of basins on either side, where coachmen gathered for warmth. The servants all turned in attention as Ahren emerged, but their interests left the moment they realized he was not their master, and they returned to their murmured chatter.

  He needed a mount. The unguarded carriages would be too slow to catch Karolina. He strode down the front steps and toward the stables when the sounds of hooves clomped up the flagstones. A man in golden brown rode up to the house and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. With an annoyed scowl, he dismounted and hitched his mount to a wooden post, removed a white mask from his saddlebag, and marched up to the door.

  Before any of the servants could see to the man’s steed, Ahren hurried up and untied the braided leather reins from the post. He slipped his foot in the stirrup to swing himself up when an angry shout came from behind him.

  “What in Saint Vishtin’s name are you doing?”

  Ahren turned to see the golden-clad rider storming down the steps toward him, his gloved hand resting on the rapier hilt at his waist.

  “How dare you,” the angry man scowled. “Stealing my horse.”

  “Your horse?” Ahren slurred. He looked at the man and then back at the animal. “This is my horse.”

  “No, sir.” The man stepped closer.

  Ahren shuffled drunkenly to the animal’s head and gave an exaggerated look of surprise. “This isn’t my horse. A thousand apologies. I am mistaken.” He laughed. “I am Lord Preschet, and I believe I have had too much wine.”

  The man’s grip loosened on his hilt. “I am Lord Pitor Voratski.”

  “My sincerest apologies, Lord Voratski.” Ahren staggered closer. “Can you imagine when word reached court that I was nearly a horse thief?”

  “I’m sure they’ll hear of it.” The young noble removed a silver box from one of his saddle bags.

  “As they should,” Ahren laughed. He extended his hand. “Again, my humblest apologies.”

  The distrust in Lord Voratski’s eyes seemed to ease. “Wine can have that effect sometimes.” He reached a hand toward Ahren’s.

  Ahren grabbed the rapier handle at the man’s side, brought his foot up, and drove it into the noble’s stomach. Lord Voratski stumbled back, unsheathing the sword in Ahren’s grasp, and fell on the stone steps behind him. Ahren whirled around and swung himself atop the horse. He pulled the animal around and slapped the flat of the sword blade against its rump with a loud, “Yah!”

  Shouts and curses erupted on all sides as Ahren sped down the lane and out into the city.

  The empty streets blurred past as he rode toward the Northern Gate. Cold air whipped through his clothes and numbed his lips. Ahren tore the half-mask from his face and threw it behind him. Baron Skerkyv’s manor lay several miles from the city. Ahren only prayed that’s where Karolina was truly headed.

  The gate guards merely stared dumfounded as Ahren flew by. The clangs of horseshoes on cobblestone gave way to the muted thuds on packed earth as he raced down the empty highway. Fields of freshly reaped wheat yielded to dark trees lining the road.

  Why had he been so careless? Had he only stolen the message when he’d planned, none of this would have happened. But instead, like an idiot, he revealed himself to Karolina. She was correct; the Tyenee did not accept failure. And now, his reputation, if not his life, was in her possession. Squeezing the sword handle harder, he drove his heels again into the horse’s sides, spurring it faster.

  Beams of pale light poked through the gaps between the tangled branches above as the moon raced beside him. The autumn leaves carpeting the road scattered in his wake. The serpentine trail broke free of the woods and crested a low hill. In the distance, beyond the farmland below, the flickering, yellow lights of carriage lamps retreated into the shelter of another wooded valley.

  Ahren crouched lower in the saddle and sped after them.

  Galloping faster, his horse closed the distance between them and the coach. Sweat trickled down Ahren’s face despite the biting cold. He plunged into the cavernous hole in the forest’s side where he’d last seen his quarry. The trail wove between the towering trees, forcing Ahren to slow in the faint light out of fear of hitting one. The road straightened, bringing the carriage into sight as it crossed a wooden bridge. Jabbing his heels into his mount, he charged after it.

  The horse’s hooves pounded across the bridge like a drum. The coachman ahead turned to see Ahren rushing toward him, his raised sword glinting in the moonlight. The driver cried out, cracking his whip and sending his horses into a full run. The carriage pulled away. Ahren slapped his reins, trying to force a last jolt of speed from his already tired steed.

  They coursed through the wooded highway. Every turn when the carriage slowed, Ahren inched closer. He’d made it just a few feet from the back of the coach when the woods opened into freshly cut fields. The road straightened out as it rose up a slight grade.

  Ahren kicked into his horse again and again.

 
; The coachman snapped his whip in reply, desperately trying to keep his lead.

  The hard-packed highway turned at the crest of the hill. Slowly, Ahren crept up to the rumbling carriage. He moved up along the right side of it when the driver yanked his reins hard to the side without slowing for the turn. Ahren drew back before the coach could slam into him. The luxurious carriage jerked around the curve, leaning heavily onto its right wheels, nearly tipping before the driver regained control.

  He won’t try that again. Seizing the lull while the coach had slowed, Ahren spurred his horse again, moving it up along the left side. The lace curtains in the carriage window moved aside, and Karolina watched him ride past. He stood in his stirrups and set one boot onto the saddle seat.

  The coachman’s whip cracked inches from Ahren’s face. His horse shifted beneath him, trying to escape. Ahren pulled the reins still in his hands and guided the terrified animal closer. The driver stood in his bench and lashed this whip again. Ahren raised his sword into the oncoming strike, and the leather cord wrapped around the blade.

  His opponent yanked back on the whip handle. The entangled whip jerked against Ahren’s sword, nearly pulling him off balance before ripping free. Ahren leapt onto the carriage’s roof. Dropping to his knees, he managed to catch himself from slipping off the smooth, rumbling wood.

  Forgoing his whip, the coachman tore a slender blade from his waist. The decorative weapon resembled more of an elongated dagger than an actual sword. He swung the weapon at Ahren, crouched before him.

  Ahren parried the blow and sprung forward. Bringing his rapier up, he punched the swept hilt into the driver’s gut, sending him flailing off the bench. Screaming, the man tumbled from the coach and into the fresh-cut field blurring past.

  Ahren slid down into the driver’s seat. The blue cord reins had fallen during the scuffle and rested precariously on the painted pole running up between the four charging horses. Quickly, Ahren grabbed onto the seat, leaned out, hooked the loop of rope, and pulled it up before it could fall.

  "Whoa." Easing back on the reins, Ahren slowed the coach to a stop. Mist plumed from the panting horses' nostrils. He tore the velvet cloak from his neck as he leaped to the ground. Karolina still had the night ruby. He had to be ready. Ahren yanked open the carriage door and swept the cloak out to catch her if she were invisible.

  “Spectacular entrance,” she said, her voice smiling. “Did you really think it necessary?” Karolina casually sat on one of the indigo cushioned seats inside. Her auburn hair hung over one shoulder, curling beside her corseted breast. “If I were going to escape, I had a least a dozen opportunities while you were chasing me.”

  Ahren aimed his sword tip toward her. “How’s your headache?”

  She smiled. “Much better now.”

  “Where’s the message and key?”

  “Would you like some brandy?” She removed a slender decanter and gilded flute from a railed shelf against the wall. “Most of the glasses broke, but this one is fine.” Glistening shards of gold and crystal littered the carriage floor.

  “Where is it?”

  “Safe.” Karolina patted her bound bosom then unstoppered the decanter.

  “Give them here.” He extended his hand.

  Karolina poured the liquor into the small glass. “No. Not until we’ve enjoyed a drink and each other’s company.”

  “No games, Karolina.” Ahren narrowed his eyes. “I need that letter.”

  She offered the drink, held between two delicate fingers. “Wouldn’t you prefer to take it from me?”

  He said nothing.

  “I’m not going to poison you, my love,” she laughed. “If I were going to kill you, I would have. Trust me.”

  Relaxing his grip, Ahren hesitantly accepted the crystal glass. He raised it then knocked it back while keeping his gaze firmly affixed on the sultry assassin. The smooth alcohol warmed as it coursed down his throat.

  With a devilish smile, Karolina slowly unhooked the top of her corset. Her fingers glided along the curve of her partially exposed breast then slid beneath the folds of her silk chemise. “Was that so difficult?” She removed a square of crumpled parchment and handed it to him.

  Ahren felt a heavy disk inside the paper. He flipped the fold open with his thumb to verify that it was truly the letter and cipher inside. “No.” He handed her back the small glass, which she promptly refilled. “So now that we’ve played your game and are no longer at the party, what shall we do with this evening?”

  She sipped the liquor. “What indeed?”

  #

  Ahren drove the carriage to The Lysreg, a roadside inn a few miles off the highway leading to the baron’s home. The scraggly-haired owner sprung to attention upon seeing their elaborate coach and rich clothes. He fluttered around like a hummingbird, fetching his guests dinner and wine. When Karolina requested a hot bath, the lanky tavernkeep shooed his sons away, insisting he personally bring the wooden tub upstairs and then carry up steaming buckets of water to fill it. Once he had finished, Ahren paid him four gold bishkas under the condition of privacy and that no one ever speak of their visit.

  Karolina nuzzled beside Ahren in the lumpy bed. Orange candlelight danced across his chest. “That’s new.” She traced her fingers across a dark scar above his hip.

  “That was a little memento from a crossbow in Nadjancia,” he said with an air of bitter amusement.

  “I hope you paid the shooter back for his gift.”

  “This scar is all that’s left of him.” He kissed her; his rough sailor hands slid down her side. “So tell me, why did you really steal the message from me?”

  “The Tyenee wouldn’t send you after anything unless it was valuable.”

  “And jeopardize all your work with Baron Skerkyv?”

  Karolina ran her fingers through the dark, soft curls of his chest hair. “Boredom I suppose. I was never any good at staying still for long no matter how comfortable I was. Seeing you woke that desire. The hunt. The chase.”

  He simply smiled.

  “Love?” she asked, “Aren’t you a little afraid I might steal it again?”

  “Who said I’m not? Do you worry I might take the night ruby from you? A treasure such as that is priceless for people like us. And it was mine to start with.”

  “I’m not worried,” she lied. The dubrald rested under the edge of the mattress beside a small blade, both accessible at any moment. “I let you live when I took it. Then when you caught me, you allowed me escape with it. You understand that it’s mine.”

  Without warning, Ahren was on top of her. Karolina’s heart pounded. She looked into his cool, blue eyes inches above her. “I risked my life stealing it for the Tyenee. You drugged me and took it. Why shouldn’t I have it?”

  Karolina’s hand moved to the edge of the bed, but Ahren grabbed her wrist, pinning her. “Because you let me keep it.” She heaved her weight and rolled on top of him, pressing him down into the straw mattress. “Because you know that had you given it to your masters, they’d have hoarded it away, as they do so many treasures, or sold it to whoever could afford but not deserve it.”

  Ahren grinned. He raised his lips toward hers, but Karolina pulled away, denying his touch by a finger’s breadth.

  “We’d be unstoppable together,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his. “Just the two of us. Maybe ransom me back to the baron, take his treasure and the count’s gold, then vanish. If you’re worried about the Tyenee, we could fake your death.”

  “You don’t want that.” He twisted his grip against hers. “You’d tire of me, just as you tired of life with the baron.”

  She drew back. “That’s different. We’re the same, Ahren. Creatures like us aren’t meant a long life. Why keep playing this game?”

  Ahren ripped his hand free and pulled her down against him. “Maybe one day, we’ll stop.” He kissed her. “But not yet.”

  They kissed passionately. Ahren’s arm held her tight as she melted against his skin. />
  #

  Karolina lay still in Ahren’s embrace. The warmth of the heavy blankets accentuated the darkened room’s chill. His soft breathing hadn’t changed in over an hour. He had to be asleep.

  Carefully, she pulled out from under his limp arm.

  He stirred and rolled onto his back. Within seconds, his rhythmic breaths continued.

  Karolina licked her lip then slowly slid her foot out and onto the frigid bare floor. Quickly, she slipped out from under the covers, careful not to let any of the cold air inside. Her naked skin goosebumped against the chill. She gathered her clothes into her arms and retrieved the night ruby from under the mattress edge.

  A quick shock shot through her body as she slipped the inch-wide gem into her mouth and became invisible. To her own eyes, she appeared only as wisps of dark smoke dancing within the space of her unseen form.

  Karolina circled around to Ahren’s discarded clothes and opened his leather purse. She removed the folded parchment inside containing the metal disk then glided silently to the door. Ahren still slept. Karolina blew a small kiss then stepped out into the hall.

  The inn lay quiet. Karolina hurried downstairs to the main room. A lanky dog lay sleepily beside the dying coals. It looked up and gave a half-hearted woof before laying its head back down. Quickly, she pulled on her dress and shoes. A rabbit fur-lined cloak hung on a peg beside the door. She threw it on and stepped out into the quiet night.

  The icy moon had fallen low in the night sky. With her corset and skirts still wrapped in her hands, she walked briskly to the barn and saddled one of the tired horses inside. Twice, she heard a rustle outside, but they proved to be nothing more than the wind. Once done, she walked the animal fifty feet from the inn before spurring it and fleeing down the wooded road. Even if Ahren had heard her ride off, she’d be a mile away before he could begin pursuit. She’d scouted the trails and roads in the area in case need required she make a hasty departure from the baron’s home. In a few hours, she’d rest at a burnt-out windmill then head west to Frobinsky.

  She rode for an hour before slowing. The dark skies paled to the east as the first hints of sunrise chased away the stars. Smiling to herself, Karolina removed the gem from her mouth and set it carefully into one of the saddlebags. She removed the folded parchment. Hopefully, its contents might prove more valuable than the baron’s treasure she’d forfeited. She opened the letter and caught the silver disk that fell out. Karolina flipped it over in her hand twice, fingers tracing the etched vine work. Damn it. It was part of the decorative tack from the carriage horses. She unfolded the parchment, her heart faltering as she read the scrawled signatures from the tavern’s registry. You sneaky bastard.