Page 8 of Of Sword & Silver

“My name is irrelevant.” I turn back, leaning against the furthest wall, one foot propped behind me.

She puts her hands on her hips, clearly miffed. “You expect me to just call you the Sword? Or Sword? I’m not doing it.”

“Then leave me here.” I turn from her, watching the chaos unfold outside as best I can. She set most of the damned prison on fire just to get to me. She’s desperate.

I don’t have to wait long before she breaks.

“Fucking hells,” she snarls, temper flaring. “I swear it on Heska’s hearth, from Dryda’s Silver River to the wastes of Death himself. I swear it on Nakush’s unknowable power, on Sola’s whims, and Lojad’s laws. I swear I will do all in my power to help you claim vengeance, Sword.” Her eyes grow wide as the bond between us begins to form, and I swallow in surprise.

It’s no small thing.

“Then I swear it too, that I will help you break your blood curse to the best of my abilities, Silver Tongue. I swear it on Heska’s hearth, from Dryda’s Silver River to the wastes of Death himself. I swear it on Nakush’s unknowable power, on Sola’s whims, and Lojad’s rules.” The oath between us draws tight, and the magic of it allows me a glimpse at the deep well of the woman’s power.

Very interesting. Especially for a human. Especially for one of Sola’s followers, one with a curse of Hrakan.

“Wonderful,” she says briskly, though her face has gone pale at whatever the magic is making her feel. It shouldn’t make me feel gleeful to see her stumble slightly, not when she’s sworn to help me, but I can’t deny my amusement. “Now, let’s get out of here and get on with it.”

She produces a leather roll full of lock picks, and I look her up and down then let out a great sigh of annoyance.

I don’t move.

“Oh, please, yes, please be less excited about getting free of here. It simply thrills me to see what a wonderful companion you’re going to be.” With a roll of her eyes, she motions for me to hold my wrists out, and despite thinking vicious thoughts at the redhead, I comply.

Working with this woman is going to be a trial.

Unfortunately, it seems I’m out of better options—for now.

The locks around my wrists click open in a surprisingly short time and I grunt again, impressed in spite of myself. The cold air bites at the ruined skin around my wrists, and the woman crouches down, unlocking the manacles from my ankles.

Gods, it feels blissful to have the weight of the chains off me, and I stand there for a moment reveling in it.

Until the silver tongue ruins it again by opening her charmed mouth. “Don’t bother thanking me. I simply love breaking giant men out of prison. Do it every so often, just for fun.”

I’m glaring at her when a sudden flurry of movement catches my eye. I have just enough forewarning to shove her out of the way, my red-headed ticket to the next stage of my plan, and I throw the loosed chains around the guard’s neck.

The woman’s dagger slices through his neck, sending a thick spray of blood across the walls.

I give her a long look, silently commending the guard’s soul to Hrakan. “That wasn’t necessary."

"You were taking too long," she says.

“He didn’t need to die.”

She blinks. “A Death worshipper who’s worried about killing people? A murderer who is worried about killing people? Little late for that.”

“This man was innocent,” I snarl. The guard stares lifelessly at the ceiling. Crimson puddles on the grime-coated stone beneath him and I narrow my eyes at the silver-tongued woman, barely holding my contempt in.

“Lojad, forgive us,” I say, hoping the god of order and war is slumbering, as he has for a long time.

She sneers at the words.

Just like all of Sola’s followers, she lacks regard for anyone but herself.

Still, I need her. It will be worth it, in the end.

She crouches next to the guard, rummaging through his pockets. Disgust rises in me and she finally turns, triumphant, clutching a ring of keys and a small clanking bag of coins.

“Just what we needed.” She deposits the coin bag into a leather satchel at her waist. “Take his sword.”

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