The Diplomat (41 page)

“I have to kill.” Bannon shifted irritably. “It’s been too long since I slit a throat. If a man doesn’t kill regularly, he gets soft, and I have too many enemies to lose my edge. Your neck or Betany’s. I’m letting you make the choice.”

“And I’m giving you a third choice: neither. For once in your life, take the nobler way.”

Bannon exhaled a soft breath that was, perhaps, a sigh. “I left the nobler way a long time ago. Far too long ago to remember how to find the path again.”

Rema began to run—surely she had the advantage of distance—but she hadn’t anticipated Bannon’s speed. His feet were almost soundless in pursuit, and in seconds his fingers pressed hard against the flesh of her arm. Her scream was caught short by his other hand. Sickened by the taste of the sweat on his palm, she fought in vain to free herself, powerless against Bannon’s might.

“Don’t struggle,” said Bannon. “It’ll just wear you out.”

Rema clawed at his arm with her free hand. Her blunt fingernails scraped ineffectually against his skin. Bannon began to tug her backward with frightening ease, and terror ran wild through her body. She flailed, caught a handful of his hair and pulled as hard as she could. Bannon grunted, his grip loosening, and she tore free. He tripped her as she lifted her feet to run, and she stumbled into a wall. She reeled, her face throbbing and wet with blood, and screamed again. Bannon’s hand clenched tight around her jaw.

“I warned you. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Rema wanted to kick, resist, scream, but her head was aching, her vision swimming, and the darkness and Bannon’s inexorable strength were overwhelming. She gave no resistance as he dragged her through the corridors. Long tongues of moonlight and shadow stretched past her, merging into something incomprehensible: a vision of life and death. She closed her eyes to the chaos, tormented by the burning pain in her arm and jaw. Cold crept around her, then heat, and a door opened.

A familiar laugh rang out.

“Betany.” Rema opened her eyes, hatred returning her strength. Bannon had hauled her to Betany’s chambers, where Betany herself was standing at the far end of the room, enveloped in flickering lamplight. She was wearing a nightgown, but it was obvious from her alertness that she hadn’t been sleeping.

“Well done,” Betany said. “She looks subdued. Push her forward.”

Bannon released Rema’s arm and shoved her. Rema tottered a few steps, unable to distinguish between her left and right feet. She steadied herself and looked into Betany’s triumphant face.

“I love the irony that this monster is only here because you brought him with you,” said Betany. “It seems nothing but death and disaster awaited you in Danosha. I know all about you and the princess.”

“If you knew it all, you’d blush as you said that,” said Rema, trying not to sway as she stood.

Betany’s thin lips moved in something less than a smile. “You ridiculous thing. Strutting about in your trousers and coat, so cocky and proud of your mannish ways.”

“I’m not mannish.” Blood trickled past Rema’s ear. “I’m no less a woman than you. You just can’t understand that strength isn’t only for men.”

“You talk so much nonsense. You always have. You should have died with the others.”

“Do tell me why my life so affronts you.”

“You know why. I begged him! I said to him, ‘Ormun, for your love for me as a sister, execute her. She’s your father’s most loyal servant, she’ll never forgive you and she’ll never cause us anything but grief!’” Betany sneered, a remembered fury kindling in her eyes. “He laughed and said, ‘Kill her? My Rema? She’s more my sister than you will ever be.’ I couldn’t have been more shocked had it been a slap to my face.”

“What do you expect? You ignored his suffering, whereas I saw the transformation happen, and I comforted him as his mind was extinguished. The whole time, you cared about nothing but your own little schemes.”

“You stole my father too.” Betany clenched her fists. “He treated you with more affection than he treated me, the daughter of his blood. You entered my household and replaced me! And now you scheme ways to destroy us, and Ormun turns away his indulgent eye.”

“Indulgent? How many times has Ormun threatened and beaten me? I never recall him laying a hand on you.”

“That’s because I mind my tongue. If you weren’t Rema, his dearest darling, you’d be dead a hundred times over for the things you dare say to him. He hits you because he’s an animal. He has half a mind, or a fractured mind…but he’s my brother! Not yours!”

“Your ranting is tiring me,” said Bannon. “Order me to finish it already.”

“Mind your manners, ogre! You’re a henchman and you should focus on henching.” Betany took a tentative step forward. Rema bared her teeth and hissed, and Betany leapt back.

“Poor Betany,” said Rema. “So much hate, yet not a shred of courage.”

Betany hid her shaking hands behind her back. “Ormun couldn’t bring himself to kill you, but I can think of nothing more pleasurable. Your body will be found in the gardens, bloodied beyond recognition. A few tears will be shed and then life will go on much more smoothly.” Excitement tightened her voice, raising its pitch and giving it a quivering edge of mania. “Oh, and before I send Bannon away, I’ll have him garrote that singer of yours. An appropriate way for her to die, don’t you think?”

The threat hit Rema like a fist to her gut. “No. Betany, she’s never done a thing to you. Leave her be.”

“It’s touching you still care for her even after you’ve abandoned her for your new trophy. Perhaps I should have her strangled slowly instead, so that the last thing she sees is Bannon’s remarkable eyes. A dying song warbling from her little throat.”

“Bannon.” Rema’s voice shook, and her stomach churned. Her own life was one thing, but Jalaya…Gods, no, it couldn’t end that way for her. “I want to reconsider my position. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bannon. “It’s far too late in the game for that. You played your hand badly, Rema. At least this employer has the bloodlust to keep me occupied.”

“I’m tired of her.” Betany ran a finger across her throat. “Finish it.”

Bannon nodded and drew his sword. The sight of its honed iron edge sent Rema’s heart into spasms. How could it all end here, ingloriously cut down at Betany’s feet? She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. At the very least she’d not give Betany the satisfaction of seeing fear.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The door opened, slamming against the marble wall so forcefully that the room’s paintings shook on their fixtures. Bannon spun, his sword still raised, and the anxiety scaling Rema’s stomach reached new heights. Elise and Jalaya were standing in the doorway, their faces whiter than the moonlight that drenched the hall behind them.

“How the hell did you find us?” said Bannon, swinging his sword to point at Rema again. “Don’t run, or she dies.”

“Elsie felt something was wrong,” said Jalaya. “We thought we heard a scream, and then we found blood…” Her eyes were immense in the dark, and horror trembled in her voice. “Whoever you are, don’t hurt her. Please.”

Betany laughed in wild delight. “Look, her lovers have arrived to save her! Now we can kill three deviants at once. How efficient.”

“Betany, how could you?” Jalaya’s fear seemed to have sobered her. “You hateful thing.”

“Why don’t you sing a song while she dies? A touching little dirge.” Betany laughed again. “And look, the foreign bitch can’t even talk, she’s so frightened. You should watch closely as she dies, you chubby slut. Maybe you’ll learn something about the price of infidelity.”

Elise remained motionless in the moonlight, her pale face framed by the unruly cascade of her black hair. Her eyes shone with an unnatural radiance both bright and forbidding.

“Come on, say something,” said Betany. “Or don’t you speak Annari? Should I grunt instead, in the manner of your people?”

Elise stepped forward, her long shadow stretching almost to Betany’s feet, but her gaze was fixed not on Betany but Bannon. “Heed me well, Calan’s butcher. I’ll not let you harm the woman I love. Release her or die under an agony even your baleful mind can’t comprehend.”

“How absurd,” said Betany. “What is she going to do, smother you?”

“The little one,” said Bannon. “Get inside and close the door. Or else I kill her.” Jalaya quivered as she pulled the door shut and pressed her back to it. “Now, what’s this about me dying in agony?”

“Release my lover.” A commanding power inhabited Elise’s voice. “You’ve caused her pain, and now I feel your dark heart beating close to mine. I have the hand of death, Bannon, and I will close it tight around you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bannon spoke with a shade of uncertainty. “If you’re going to threaten me, you need to do better than to give me spooky looks.”

Betany clapped her hands. “Bannon! Get on with it!”

Bannon blinked, and the doubt left his eyes. He advanced on Rema. Before he could strike, Jalaya shrieked and leapt at him. She pounded her tiny fists on his back and pulled vainly on his arms. “Rema, run!”

Bannon turned and struck Jalaya across the face. She stumbled, holding her cheek. Bannon lifted her with a single hand, gripping her by the neck, and dashed her against the wall. Her small body spasmed as it struck the stone, and she fell crumpled to the floor.

Tears burned in Rema’s eyes—it couldn’t be, not her Jalaya, anyone but her—and she screamed as she threw herself at Bannon, ripping his face, kicking his legs, punching his chest and tearing at his fist in an attempt to free the sword from his hands. Bannon retreated, fending off her frantic, useless attacks.

Rema pulled again on his arm, and he struck her across the face with the hilt of his sword. Pain obliterated her thoughts. Another powerful blow caught her stomach, and she reeled and wheezed, falling to her knees and disappearing into a fog of nausea, breathlessness and consuming pain. Bannon’s sword raised high above her, a line of moonlight defining its killing edge.

Rema closed her eyes and waited for the blow. Impossible seconds passed, yet she still lived. A slow gurgling broke the silence, and she opened her eyes. Bannon had frozen in midswing, his muscles tensed and his neck bulging. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“What is this?” said Betany. “Bannon! Kill her!”

Elise was standing behind Bannon, her eyes closed and her hands pressed together over her chest. A single tear ran down her cheek, and her lips moved without sound. As she continued her silent murmuring, her hair rose and writhed through the air, the black strands moving like feathered serpents.

Bannon twitched, and the sword dropped from his hand. Rema and Betany both flinched as it hit the marble with a sharp, metallic crack. A second tear slipped from Elise’s lashes, and Bannon doubled over and coughed up blood, so much blood that Rema’s stomach rolled.

“Make her stop,” said Bannon, his voice raw with suffering.

“I’m sorry,” said Elise. Her whisper somehow filled the room, and it was as if many other voices were contained within it, some mournful, some furious, others triumphant.

Bannon’s face had become paler than his eyes, which he turned toward Rema, bemusement and fear frozen in their dying depths. He dropped to one knee, shivered and fell forward into the pool of his blood. A long groan shook his body before he shuddered into the stillness of death.

“Get up!” Betany retreated to the wall of her chamber, pressed herself against the stone and stared at Elise. “Bannon, get up and take care of this sorceress!”

Rema pushed aside her pain and ran to Jalaya, who still lay motionless in the corner. Rema lifted her and held her close, pretending not to see the blood on her head or to feel the limpness of her body. “She’s hurt,” Rema said. “Elsie, help her.” She sobbed as she pressed her cheek against Jalaya’s hair. “Jalaya, my love, please be alive. I love you, please come back…”

Elise drifted toward them, an inhuman apparition, and Rema shrank away. Elise’s eyes were silver from edge to edge, and her hair was spread as wildly as if she’d been touched by lightning. “Her heart still beats,” she said, her voice lit by spectral power. “I can feel her spirit still radiant within her, a soul like no other in this world. I’ll save your little songbird, Rema. I promise.”

“Hurry.” Rema brushed away her tears and opened the door. Elise carried Jalaya out of the room and into the shadowed hallway. Rema stared for some time at the dark opening, paralyzed by concern and confusion, before the thought of Betany broke through her trance. Her fear and grief hardened into a cold hunger for revenge.

Betany was still standing against the wall, her face contorted. “Mark my words,” said Rema, picking up Bannon’s sword as she advanced across the room. “I’ll cut you into ribbons, Betany, if you’ve killed her.”

Betany wept—self-pity, and fear for her own life. As Rema drew closer, Betany squished against the marble as if she hoped to sink into it. Rema pointed the sword at her breast. “Tell me, why shouldn’t I finish you and leave your body in the gardens?”

“You should. I would, if I were you. But you won’t, because you’re weak.”

“Jalaya would say that sparing a life is braver than taking it, but I don’t have her depth of forgiveness. If you’ve slain her, I will harbor a vengeance to make your own hate seem like the petulance of childhood. There is no sea or mountain range that will protect you from me.”

Betany stared at the tip of the sword. “If you take what is mine, then I’ll take what is yours.”

“Don’t threaten her again, or I swear I’ll impale you against this wall.”

“Look at you.” Betany spat at Rema’s feet. “Holding a sword to a defenseless woman. There’s a little bit of Ormun in all of us, isn’t there?”

Nausea rose in her stomach, and Rema turned away. She walked slowly across the room and stopped to stare at Bannon’s body sunken in blood. Death had followed her from Danosha, but it would end here. She tossed the sword aside, and it clattered in the corner.

“Get out of my chambers.” Betany’s voice had regained its haughty calm. “If you’re not going to kill me, then leave me be.”

“Every time I look at you, I see the physical resemblance.” Rema rested her hand on the doorframe, not turning to look at Betany as she spoke. “If only you had similarly inherited your father’s compassion. Instead, your brother vanishes into madness while you burn with hatred. The only solace I can find in Togun’s death is that he never lived to see what his children have become.”