Page 41 of Heir

“Who the bleeding hells are you?”

“Ah,” Sirsha rasped, coughing. “I’ve come from—from the palace.” Guilt nibbled at her, but she needed out of here. The Empress probably had a million paths to escape. Besides, if she was running from the Empire at the first sign of trouble, she wasn’t much of a ruler. “I’ve an—urgent mission. The Empress said you must take me.”

As far as lies went, it wasn’t one of her stronger ones. Still, the captain nodded. “Show me the order and we’ll be on our way.” He put out his hand expectantly.

“You think she had time to write me an order in this chaos? Just take me on the fastest route out of here or else—or else all is lost.”

The captain peered at her. “You don’t even know where we’re going?”

Sirsha scoffed. “I couldn’t possibly tell you until after we left, in case there are spies among your crew.”

“Crew?” The captain narrowed his eyes and nodded to the aft of the shabka. “This ship is powered by a Mehbahnese ore engine. It doesn’t need a crew. Who—”

He went suddenly, deathly quiet. A second later, blood poured from his mouth. Sirsha saw the thin blade embedded in his throat just in time to duck as another passed over her shoulder and into the captain’s heart. He toppled forward off the gangplank and dropped like a stone into the shallow waters of the Southern Sea.

“Dilitali unsiva va tuus!”

Kegari. When Sirsha’s mother had her track a Kegari magicsmither years ago, she’d spent weeks in the mountains at the arse-end of the Southern Continent. Sirsha recognized the language, though she couldn’t decipher the meaning.

But as both raiders were running at her in full armor with teeth bared and swords flashing, she didn’t exactly need a translation.

“Va tuus, beh!”

Sirsha ducked below the ship’s rail and crab-walked toward one of the masts. She could take on a Martial soldier or three, and Roost rats were nothing. But she knew little about Kegari fighting tactics. Judging by the skin-curdling screams coming from the city, she’d rather not find out.

“Rue la ba Tel Ilessi!”

She flattened herself against the mast, just wide enough to cover her lean frame. Then blades flashed on either side of her like murderous falling stars, and she drew her daggers.

Some people, like Sirsha’s sister, could never get enough blood. But Sirsha didn’t much like killing people. She’d had her fill of it long ago.

Still, she’d deal with a bit of gore on her boots if it meant her life.

They were almost on top of her. From her hiding spot, she tried to suss out weaknesses in their armor.

When their boots hit the deck, Sirsha emerged and let three of her blades fly. Two of them bounced harmlessly off the bigger raider’s armor, but the third sank into his chest.

The smaller raider surged forward with uncanny speed. Sirsha yelped, barely ducking the silver whip that flashed toward her face.

“Rue la ba Tel Ilessi!” The woman leaped for Sirsha, teeth bared. She knocked Sirsha to the ground and the knives from her hand, closing her fist around Sirsha’s neck.

The woman’s wrist glinted with a crawling white substance that dripped down her skin like paint. It oozed toward Sirsha and wrapped around her throat with the cold slide of metal.

The woman smiled and released Sirsha, holding her down by her shoulders as the band grew tighter.

In terms of hand-to-hand combat techniques, Sirsha hated strangulation. It took so damned long—a few minutes, at least, and you had to be in your enemy’s face the entire time, watching the blood vessels burst in their eyes. But this woman appeared to enjoy it, grinning as the murderous metal she wore pulled with inhuman tightness. Lights popped at the edge of Sirsha’s vision. Every sound narrowed to a strange gurgling—her own desperate struggle for air.

She should have left the Empire long ago, money or not. Ankana was beautiful. Warm water, good food, handsome men. She’d always liked it, even if it was too close to—

A sound—a squelch, really—and Sirsha’s attacker stiffened and was yanked away, taking the accursed strangler with her. Sirsha gasped for air as a big hand grabbed hers and pulled her to her feet. She stared up into the face of a tall, broad-shouldered Martial wearing a fancy tunic and holding a fancier scim. His dark hair fell across his cheekbones, almost obscuring the yellow of his eyes, the thick black lashes.

“Are you all right?”

Sirsha responded by yanking him down to the deck as a hail of Kegari knives came flying through the space where his head had been. He nearly landed atop her, stopping himself inches away, forearms on either side of her head on the deck, muscles taut as the knives passed over them. Sirsha stared at his pulse racing in his throat and then glanced up to find his pale eyes on hers. Her heartbeat quickened and she felt oddly flustered.Probably because you’re about to die.She wrenched her gaze over his shoulder; a half dozen more Kegari surged toward the dock, chasing two other people.

“Bleeding hells,” she said to her erstwhile savior. “Did you bring the entire damned army with you?”

“You’re welcome.” He leaped up to meet the attackers with all the subtlety of a rabid bear.

---