Daughter of Dusk (32 page)

It was Adele who spoke first. “Flick tells me that we need this prisoner if we want to stop Forge from sending soldiers into the forest. We will guard him for you. You have our word that
he will not escape,” she said.

“Your word?” said Tristam. “And what’s that worth?” Kyra had to look away at the raw animosity in his voice. If she’d had any doubt as to how he felt about
her kin…

“We’re skilled at watching prisoners, and we’re skilled fighters,” said Pashla. “This, you should know, since you’ve been one of our captives, and
you’ve seen how easily we can kill your kind.”

Kyra looked to Pashla in disbelief. Was she deliberately goading Tristam, or did she simply not realize what effect her words would have?

Tristam took a step toward Pashla, drawing his sword. “I stood by while you murdered two of my comrades. I will not stand by while you mock their deaths.”

“No!” Kyra reached for him as Pashla took a step back. The Demon Riders to either side of her untied their belts.

“Stop now!” Flick could be deafening when he wanted to be, and his shout reverberated through the trees. Everybody froze, and he planted himself between Tristam and Pashla.
“We’ve got the same goals here and enough at stake so that we can’t afford to fall apart amongst ourselves.”

Tristam’s sword hovered a finger’s width from Flick’s throat. Adele’s features blurred and re-formed as she looked between the two of them.

Kyra finally found her voice. “Tristam,” she said softly, almost apologetically. “I think Flick’s right. The Makvani could do a better job of guarding him than I could by
myself.”

Tristam’s face was still tight with anger. “Can I have a word, Flick?” he said.

“Aye,” said Flick, resigned.

Tristam lowered his blade, and the two walked into the trees with the wariness of men about to start a duel. Kyra wondered if she should step in. Both Tristam and Flick knew how high the stakes
were. They wouldn’t come to blows over this, would they?

“Your friend holds long grudges,” came Pashla’s low voice at her ear.

Kyra could feel a headache starting to form right in the middle of her forehead, and she found she didn’t have the patience for caution or tact. “You killed two of his friends,
Pashla. That’s more than a grudge to get over.”

“They were killed in battle,” said Pashla calmly, as if that settled the matter.

Flick and Tristam were arguing and gesticulating, though Kyra couldn’t make out the words. At one point, Flick gestured in their direction, and she got the clear impression that he pointed
to her rather than the Demon Riders near her. A short while later, her friends returned. Tristam’s eyes still flashed, and Flick had the look of someone who’d just weathered a hard
storm.

“Everything all right?” Kyra asked. She’d have her own words with Flick later, but right now she just wanted to keep everything from falling apart.

“We accept your help,” said Tristam to the Demon Riders.

“We are, in fact, grateful for it,” added Flick. Tristam’s expression remained stony. “And I have clothes for the guards to change into. Seems it would be prudent not to
let”—he jerked his head toward the cave—“know about, uh”—he gestured toward the Makvani.

Things progressed quickly after that. Kyra set up a guard schedule with the Demon Riders while Tristam questioned Robert further. The messenger didn’t give him any useful information, but
Tristam didn’t seem surprised.

“He needs some time to think. They always do,” Tristam said to Kyra as he prepared to leave. He’d calmed down since the confrontation earlier, and Kyra had seen him thank Adele
for the Makvani’s help.

“I certainly needed some time,” said Kyra, thinking back to her interrogation and imprisonment at the Palace.

Tristam’s eyes went cautiously over her face, and only after searching her features did he relax and meet her eyes. “You know, I still feel guilty about how I treated you,” he
said.

She smiled wryly up at him. “Why ever for? We’ve been through enough together. No reason to dwell on past misunderstandings.”

They looked at one another, sharing for a moment the memory of when they’d faced off over the interrogation table. And though they had hated each other at the time, thinking back on it now
brought Kyra comfort. It was a reason for hope, she supposed, that two people at odds could come so far.

Finally, Tristam looked down. “I should go,” he said. “I’ll be back when I can. Keep him well fed and sheltered. We need him to believe us when we say we can protect
him.”

Kyra let out a long, slow breath as she watched Tristam walk away. When he finally disappeared, she covered her eyes with the heel of her hands and arched her back, trying to loosen up her
muscles. Footsteps crunched in the snow, and she opened her eyes to see Flick walking toward her, for all the world looking like a dog who’d been caught ransacking the family kitchen.

“So,” he said. “Are you ready to yell at me now?”

That was all the encouragement Kyra needed.

“What were you thinking?” She rounded on him, venting all the tension and betrayal she’d been feeling. “They could have slaughtered each other in front of that
cave.”

Flick bore her words, making no attempt to interrupt her.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked, throwing up her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked back toward the Demon Riders by the cave. “And have you become
bosom friends with Pashla, too?” She finally admitted it. She was jealous of her friend, who picked up allies wherever he went, while it seemed she herself only found more enemies.

She ran out of words and settled for glaring at Flick, who stirred when he realized she was done.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he said, subdued. “I knew Tristam wouldn’t agree if I asked him beforehand, and if I’d told you, you’d have been
forced to decide whether you wanted to hide it from him. This way, the blame fell squarely on me.” He took a breath. “I don’t know Pashla well at all. Adele was the one I asked
for help, and she found the others.”

“And you just decided this was the right thing to do?” Kyra said.

“Can you think of anyone else who could have helped us?”

She couldn’t, really, but she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. “Just because things didn’t explode today doesn’t mean they won’t tomorrow.”

“I know. But it’s worth it.” Flick spoke with surprising conviction, and Kyra wondered at it. He sank down onto a fallen log. After a moment, Kyra grudgingly followed his
lead.

“Why?” she asked.

Flick stared down at his hands, massaging the knuckles of his right hand with his left. “Call me foolish, I suppose, but I think it might do some good to work together with these people.
I’ve had a few run-ins with the Makvani now. Truth is, they do look on us humans as something below their regard. But I’m realizing that it’s different when they see you
face-to-face. That’s why I don’t think those folk by the cave will hurt me, even if their clanmate was wounded by a soldier this morning. I’m no longer a nameless human to them.
And I wonder, if more of them actually spent time with us, maybe something could come out of it.”

“You think we could avoid a war?”

Flick sighed and absentmindedly broke a twig off the fallen tree. “I don’t think Adele’s eager for a fight, and some of the others aren’t either. I mean, I’m not
naïve. I know this will only make a small difference. But it’s better than nothing, in’t it?”

His face had such an optimistic cast that Kyra found it hard to hold her grudge. “I hope you’re right,” she said. “And I hope Tristam can get over what happened today and
trust us again.”

“Tristam, in particular, needs to get over his fears.”

There was a layer of meaning in Flick’s tone that caught Kyra’s attention. “Why? What do you mean?”

“Oh.” For the first time, Flick stumbled on his words. “I just mean…”

And Kyra remembered how Flick had pointed at her when he argued with Tristam. The pieces fell together, and she looked incredulously at Flick. “You’re not trying to put me and
Tristam together, are you? You’ve been against it from the beginning.”

“I was wrong,” Flick said. “I admit it. Tristam’s a decent fellow. He’s not my da, and you are not my ma. I probably should have realized that sooner, and I worry
that something I said might have swayed you against him.”

Kyra put a hand to her temple. Of all the times for Flick to come around…“You
were
wrong about him,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. He’s still a
nobleman, and he has duties to his family.”

“That might be true,” said Flick. “But he in’t married yet, and who knows what might happen? Things are changing, Kyra. I don’t think we can take anything for
granted anymore.”

Kyra wondered if the fight with the messenger had muddled Flick’s brain. But then she followed Flick’s gaze to where Adele stood arm in arm with Mela, and she finally understood.

She jabbed her elbow into his rib cage. “Someone’s changed your mind, Flick. And it wasn’t Tristam.”

He saw where she was looking and gave a sheepish smile. “I suppose one’s view on forbidden romance changes when it no longer concerns other people.”

Even though Kyra had suspected something, it still surprised her to hear Flick confirm it so readily. It hadn’t been that long since they’d met, had it? “Is it…mutual
between the two of you?” she asked.

He shrugged, eyes still on her. “I’m only now learning their ways. I don’t even think they all ‘take mates,’ as they call it. She’d need the permission of the
clan leader. But she enjoys my company, and I’ve grown rather fond of hers. She’s been bringing her friends to meet me. It’s been…quite an adventure.”

“What will you do?” Kyra asked.

He shrugged. “Who knows what will happen tomorrow or next week, with things the way they are. But we’ll live things out day by day. It’s all we can do, really.” He had a
gentleness to his voice that tugged at Kyra’s heart.

As if sensing Kyra and Flick talking about her, Adele turned and gave a slight smile. Flick waved.

“In that case, I wish you two the best,” said Kyra, giving Flick’s shoulders a quick squeeze. Kyra stood and dusted off her clothes, then turned a mischievous eye back toward
him. “I do have one question though.”

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re not smitten with Adele simply because you saw her without her clothes? She does have a lovely figure.”

“All right. That’s it.” Flick rolled up his sleeves and lunged for Kyra, ignoring her squeals as he caught her in a bear hug from behind. “I think you need some lessons
in respecting your elders.” And he methodically began to turn her upside down. Kyra yelled something about things dropping out of her pockets, but she was laughing too hard for any coherent
words to come out. She scrabbled at Flick’s legs behind her head, wondering at how the trees looked so much taller from this angle, when she saw the Demon Riders making their way toward the
commotion.

“Everything’s fine,” said Flick. “This is how we show love in our family.”

And Kyra didn’t have the breath to contradict him.

T W E N T Y - S E V E N

T
ristam tried not to worry as Robert held out, but the calendar was not on his side. As the date of the offensive ticked closer, units started
taking position outside the city, and news of clashes with the Demon Riders came in daily. On his third trip to the cave, Tristam noticed that some of the Demon Riders had dyed the skin of their
fingers red. When he asked Kyra about it, she coughed uncomfortably and told him that it was their tradition to do so before battle.

“That bad?” said Tristam.

“They’re expecting a war,” said Kyra.

The one good result of the approaching Demon Rider offensive was that Malikel resumed his duties with the Council. The magistrate’s reasons for reinstating him had more to do with the
city’s need for wartime leadership than with his own investigations, but any change that got Malikel back on the Council was a good one in Tristam’s book. On the first day of
Malikel’s return, Tristam hung near the Council Room, hoping to speak with the Defense Minister, but Malikel’s movements were still closely monitored, and he couldn’t get a word
with him alone.

Three days before the Demon Rider offensive, Robert finally folded. “I serve the Whitt house,” he said. “I’ve been carrying messages between Lord Whitt and Head
Councilman Willem.” His well-tailored clothes had become wrinkled and dirty after his days in the cave, and his hair and beard were unkempt.

It took some effort on Tristam’s part not to let his relief show. “And what do they discuss?”

“They tell me very little,” said Robert. “I simply carry the letters.”

He might have been lying. He might have been telling the truth. But Tristam was running out of time. The Whitt household was one of the smaller houses of Forge, halfway to Edlan. They certainly
would have had plenty of reason to encourage a Demon Rider sweep. “Will you testify to the Council that you ran messages between Willem and Lord Whitt?”

Robert didn’t answer right away, and Tristam allowed the silence between them to stretch. It was like a game of cards, interrogating a hostile prisoner, always trying to hide one’s
own hand while guessing the opponent’s.