Page 178 of The Queens and the Kings
“Hmm.”
Einar stole higher, chasing their retreating voices.
Henrik followed.
The thin staircase ended at a doorless opening that spilled into a hallway. Windows marched along either side, revealing glimpses onto Stenberg. The brilliant, burning star of horrid arcane continued to shine. Arcane fell from the Temple above this story. They’d climbed to the fourth floor, but the arcane flow originated one higher. The permeating smell of brimstone wafted by when they passed it.
Vilhelm and His Glory flowed into a distant room, out of sight. No door closed audibly behind them. Henrik and Einar stepped out of the servant’s staircase. They hustled farther along the hall behind His Glory, then ducked into an empty room on the right.
Henrik pressed his back to the wall, held his breath. A painted black square occupied the far wall, and a basket of white chalk waited underneath. Littered leaflets and barren wicker chairs. A learning room.
Einar waited, ear cocked to the door, before he pointed his head down the hall near His Glory. No sound of pursuit thus far. Einar tilted his head that way. “We ambush,” he mouthed.
Henrik frowned, hesitating. Their resources were few. Having never been in the Temple before, they didn’t know exactly where they stood. Only His Glory’s soldats knew the interior and remained inside.
Which would explain why His Glory holed up within tonight.
An advantage.
Asmallone.
Not only was the layout unknown, but whatever arcane His Glory commanded. Was there more? Did he wield it, or did some Arcanist? Demmed Pedr, holding these cards too close to the chest. Henrik should have asked more questions.
He hesitated, glancing behind Einar’s shoulder. “Ambush?” he soundlessly repeated. “No good.”
Einar nodded with new urgency. “Ambush,” he repeated with one finger. A second popped up. “Feint and cut.”
Henrik frowned.
Was he kidding? No, Einar had never been more serious. Beyond Einar’s lust for revenge was a cool calculation. A steadiness that Henrik had seen before, in battle. In a position similar to this, when they had to scan for advantage, use what they had, and come out on top.
The islands could be a ruthless, cutthroat place to live. It ameliorated Henrik’s concern that Einar desiredlife. The soldat within had woken with a roaring vengeance, proving he wasn’t driven entirely by revenge.
“There will be more soldats,” Henrik muttered, low. “Not just Vilhelm.”
Einar nodded. “Ambush,” he reasserted. “Element of surprise.” He finished by mouthing, “It’s all we have.”
Truth.
They relied on sheer, dumb luck. On the surprise factor. On the fact that they’d decimated Oliver and five of His Glory’s soldats on the Unseen Island, and a newcomer like Vilhelm, withso little experience, now worked directly with His Glory. There were signs of breakage.
Were they enough?
“It’s a wild chance,” Henrik said.
Einar’s amusement grew to a wry smile. “I know.”
“There’s only one way it’ll work.”
“Feint and cut.” Einar grinned fully.
Henrik drank a deep breath. He didn’t like their odds. Not at all, but what options did they have? The longer they waited, the more Arvid and the other soldats fought hand-to-hand combat against five hundred friends and family members. Potentially arcane supported, too.
With every passing minute, islanders died. Pedr may have brought reinforcements, but with His Glory’s arcane at work, they wouldn’t make enough of a difference.
Henrik nodded.
“Ambush, feint, cut.”
