Edward found Garrett standing inside the attendants’ entrance. “Where have you been?”
“Outside,” he offered as he continued walking.
“No shit. Are you daft, Edward?”
“They’re leaving now. I think I’ll get some ale.”
Garrett followed along behind him, but tried to keep his counsel. It wasn't as if he didn't worry about Katrina. They faced the same predicament.
As Edward poured ale into two tankards, Garrett finally had to say what was in his heart. “I don’t want you to die because you can’t keep your mouth shut. You’re meant to let them choose you, not the other way around.”
Edward wheeled to face his brother. “You think I don't know the fucking laws?”
“Of course you do.” Garrett set his hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Just don’t throw it all out the window because you fear for her safety.”
Edward sighed. “I had to make her understand why I spoke up. If she doesn't feel the same, and it appears she doesn't, I’ll go back to washing her laundry and keep my mouth shut.”
They both looked up as the door to the back quarters swung open. Isabella stormed in, her dark cloak swirling around her boots as she moved swiftly in his direction.
“Isa—”
“That’s Widow-Maker to you,” she snarled.
Edward kept quiet as she grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him roughly. He didn't even move as she devoured him; there was nothing but the beat of his heart in his ears and the feel of her tongue against his.
She let him go and strode out without another word.
“I think it’s safe to say she feels something for you.”
Edward couldn't even respond to Garrett’s wry comment. He dropped onto the nearest chair and stared at the fire. She’d come back in full warrior mode to kiss the hell out of him.
“That had to mean something,” he finally managed to say.
“I’m happy for you. Now we wait.”
Edward dropped his head into his hands. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“I know it’s past curfew, but you didn’t have dinner. Let me get you something to eat.”
Edward groaned; the reminder that the warriors had to go through the Winter Forest in the dark wouldn’t help his appetite. “I don’t think I can eat.”
“Come on; some soup, if nothing else.”
Garrett stopped talking when they heard a door creak down the hall. With a finger to his lips, he stepped up to the dark doorway and took a peek.
“Everyone else should be in their chambers by now,” Edward murmured.
“Do you know where they stationed the sentinels?”
Edward nodded and gestured in a circular motion. “All around the outer perimeter and a few in the great hall.”
“Care to see who’s walking about?”
“I don’t know that I do.”
“Come on.” Garrett moved down the hallway, silent as a wisp.
They shouldn't have been expecting anything out of the ordinary, and yet the hairs on the back of Edward’s neck prickled as he joined Garrett. “Why do I have the feeling it’s not one of the boys?”
They heard the creaking again and flattened themselves against the wall. Three cloaked figures were coming in their direction; the pair had to either act or hide.
It figured Edward would be out of his room past curfew in time to run headlong into something nefarious. He knew how to fight, how to defend himself, but it was harder to do without a weapon.
They were coming closer now. There was only one option left; to fight outnumbered in the darkened passageway.
Edward took a wide step and stood firmly in the middle of the hallway. He felt Garrett move to his side and slightly behind him.
“What are you doing out past curfew?” he asked in a stern voice.
“We could ask the same of you.”
He knew that voice. It was Marcus, an ensign. “You’re supposed to be halfway to Blackthorn by now. What are you doing here?”
Garrett nudged him in the back, and Edward slid his hand behind him to clutch the hilt of the dagger his brother offered. Shadows obscured the three people in their path, but with one of them being an ensign, there was a good chance the other two were also traitors. Something was very wrong if they were doubling back without the sentinels’ knowledge.
“Move out of our way, attendant.” He was right; that one was Alec.
Edward shifted to a fighter’s stance. “I don't think so.”
There was a low murmuring from the cloaked figures and then female laughter. “Are you going to protect the sword all by yourselves? A couple of slaves?”
Edward bristled at the term. Garrett shifted to the balls of his feet.
“Aye,” he said simply.
The sound of metal scraping against metal had the men on full alert. The trio rushed toward them, and they had to react swiftly.
Garrett shouted loudly enough to draw attention to them, and Edward threw his dagger at the nearest figure. The female screamed and the other two backed off to give her aid. There was the sound of running feet, and Garrett dashed to pick up a dropped sword. Jane was still wailing by the time a handful of sentinels came around behind the would-be thieves.
Trapped and outnumbered, the men nonetheless tried to fight. Edward could almost make out everyone’s features in the darkness by that time. He assumed the sentinels would have it covered, but he and Garrett remained in case they were needed.
As it turned out, it was a good decision. One of the sentinels turned on her comrades and began hacking at them with her sword.
“You fucking traitor!” Edward heard one of them bellow.
Marcus, the one who’s voice he’d first recognized, came rushing in their direction. He didn't have a weapon Edward could see, and he and Garrett easily trapped him between them. Marcus spit, clawed, and tried to throw punches, but Garrett held his arms down. After a minute, it became clear the sentinels had everything under control. Garrett handed off the bastard pretending to be a loyal ensign while attempting to steal the sword for himself.
“That was brutal. Are you okay?” Garrett asked.
Edward was jittery with adrenaline. “Aye, but I think I’ll have that ale, now.”
They went back to the common room and retrieved the ale Edward had poured earlier. He downed it all and poured more.
Viktorija came into the room and looked back and forth between the two men. A bruise was blooming over her left temple. “Edward, you killed Jane.”
“I did?”
She nodded, and he drank more ale. “Two ensigns, a mercenary, and a sentinel went rogue. You helped stop them before they could steal the sword and give it to The Forsaken.”
Edward raised his goblet in a toast toward Viktorija’s retreating back.
Garrett clapped him on the shoulder. “Time to celebrate.”
Edward groaned. “I can’t believe we did that.”
He knew he was drinking too much, but the encounter in the hallway unnerved him. Part of him said he should be on full alert in case there were more traitors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He drained his third cup and poured himself more.
The next thing he knew, someone was nudging his arm. He blinked at the weak sunlight streaming through the window. Raising his head, he looked up at Isabella. Her face was streaked with blood and dirt, but she was safe. She was alive.
One of her braids had come loose and hung over her shoulder; he stared at it. “Edward, I heard what you did here.”
He nodded. What had he done?
“You were incredibly brave.”
He nodded again and squinted in an attempt to bring her into focus. “You know what, Widow-Maker?”
She merely raised an eyebrow.
“You’re pretty and all, but I just really love ale.”
With that, Edward slumped forward and fell into a blessed stupor once more.
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