Leybound Chapter Forty-Six | Shade (Patreon)

A steady human tide streamed out of the citadel after word spread quickly of a duel between an arcanist and a high faelen. Night was falling, and many carried burning torches with them, bringing a festive atmosphere to the air. 

The Faelen guards who had been stationed outside Myam-Taels mansion had abandoned their posts to watch, and Price shook his head as he strode inside. 

That the Faelen had managed to conquer so much of the continent was a disgrace. They had their destructive red darts, but aside from that, they were ill-disciplined wretches commanded by pompous fools.

Fortunately, he had gathered his own small force, recruited from the gangs that inhabited the wharves and shadier parts of the city. They were easily bought with Faelen gold. 

Natalia Quinn sat in the banquet room, bound to a chair, and he was glad to see even her normally unbreakable composure flinch as she caught sight of his ruined face.

“Natalia Quinn,” Price selected a sweet cake from the platter on the table and popped it into his mouth. The Faelen appetite for luxury was insatiable, and it made them weak. He could use them, if he wanted to, to become powerful here. But it would mean giving them Quinn, and she was far too powerful a weapon to hand them. “I did not expect you to be an agent of the Wikkan. What could they have offered you, I wonder? Something significant to bend your pride, not money or power. Revenge perhaps?”

Natalia Quinn made the chair look like a throne even with her wrists tightly bound to the arms, but she blinked at the mention of vengeance and her teeth clenched momentarily. Price smiled. Vengeance, the purest of motivations. 

“What do you want with me?” Natalia asked. 

“Where is Riot?” 

“At the tower, you’re too late to stop him.” 

Defensive, proud. Proud of Riot? Price smiled again. Her reputation was impressive, but she had clearly been compromised. 

“Miss Quinn, have you debased yourself with the rank and file?” He made a tutting sound. “I have no wish to stop Sergeant Riot; I wish to blind Sergeant Riot in one eye. He did this to me,” Price indicated the empty eye socket. “And I would seek redress before leaving this place.”

“Thats all?”

“I had planned to kill him, but he fought well enough, and he has reminded me of what a good enemy is." Price pulled the hedron out, twisting it between his fingers, and Natalia's eyes followed it, like a cat tracking a bird. "If you help me, I will discuss this with you.”

“If you want my help, then return the hedron to me and let me go.”

“So that you can destroy the tower?”

“Why do you care? It means nothing to you.”

“Why would I help the Wikkan achieve their aims? Unlike you, I have self-respect.” 

“Self-respect enough to serve the Faelen?”

“Until yesterday, I was their prisoner. Now I find myself in a position of modest importance; their thirst for redress suits me, and their gifts flatter me.”

Price drew the sword and laid it on the table. The echo-forged steel that belonged to Tarir-del. The floral guard was gone now, and the precious jewels cracked from the hilt that was now bound in supple leather. 

“Riley is dead; Ritta Kerne will be next. If the Faelen wish to aid me, then so be it; they are the enemy of my enemy after all.”

“You don’t need them for that.” Natalia’s eyes narrowed, and Price felt that it was him that was being appraised. “There is more that they have offered you.”

Price remained silent, but he gripped the hilt of the sword. In the east, they called her a shade. An assassin, but she knew things too—things that made even the wikkan and the arcanum wary of her.

“Riot and Kerne are petty slights and betrayals. You have another enemy, though, don’t you? A group that you have failed to identify, let alone destroy.”

There were no lies on her face, only a death mask of determination. No, obsession.

“And who is this mysterious foe?” His mouth was dry.

“The ones that created the leybound.”

“You will tell me about them, and you will deliver Riot to me, and I will give you this.”

She told him then a story of cruelty, and suffering endured by hundreds. It made sense that a legacy of pain should be responsible for what they had done to him. When she had finished, Price felt his spirit seething with anticipation, and the Faelen and their war faded into nothingness.

“Alric Rook?” Price asked, his hatred for the name making his voice tremble. 

“Rook was one of them; he was killed by an Erudoran boy at Ivansrook. They made him a sergeant to keep him quiet, and the regiments call him the last man.”

“Bring him to me,” Price ordered. 

“Sent one of your men outside and look for a filthy little man in an archanist's robe,” Natalia instructed. 

Price cut the ropes that bound Natalia, and she helped herself to the food and wine as they sat in silence. Outside, came the collective roar of hundreds of people outside the city walls and moments later, the scruffy wretch was hauled into the room, cringing as Price towered over him. 

“M-m-istress,” he jabbered, throwing himself to the floor. 

“Odred, I need you to do something for me.” Natalia said. 

“Anything,” he replied, breathlessly.