“No!”
I’m screaming, but it’s too late. The girls on the stage scatter, their fathers dragging them to safety as the Brute Squad swarms onto the platform, coming between Logan and the Commander. Logan drives his shoulder into the first guard who reaches him, sends the man flying off the stage, and whirls to block the sword thrust of another.
The Commander stands above me and laughs.
I slide my hand into the slit I cut in the side of my skirt, find my sheath, and pull my knife free.
Someone calls my name, and I see Sylph break away from Smithson’s hold and rush toward the stage.
“Go back!” I yell and struggle to my feet, my knife ready.
Smithson catches her around the waist before she can reach me, and she slaps at him. I turn away, praying Logan isn’t already dead.
He isn’t. He fights like a man possessed—swinging, thrusting, and attacking with terrifying speed and force, disarming and disabling every opponent who comes at him. I had no idea he had this in him, and it’s clear I’m not the only one.
The Commander stops laughing and draws his own sword.
Raising my knife, I calculate the angle I’ll need to drive the blade through his back and into his heart. Before I can thrust the weapon forward, I’m body slammed from the side and sent sailing off the platform and into the crowd of eligible townsmen still milling at the base of the stage, unsure what their role in this unprecedented display of violence should be.
Hands reach for me, steady me, and try to hold me back. I punch, kick, and swing my knife until they back away. I can’t save Logan unless I’m on the stage. Anyone standing between me and him is dead.
I race toward the steps, beating away the few that still reach for me, but before I can mount the stage, a guard jumps in front of me. I drive my knife through his stomach, twist it to the right, and yank it free while he’s still in the act of telling me to halt.
Crimson splashes onto my pretty blue skirt. I look away from it and concentrate on reaching Logan. I’m on the stage driving my knife into the back of the guard blocking that exit before he even knows what hit him. Not stopping to see if he’s dead, I vault over his body and try to see Logan.
He’s trapped center stage. Eight Brute Squad. Another dozen guards. And in the center of it, the Commander.
I race forward, and the Commander screams for his guards to fall back. Logan is bruised, battered, and bleeding, but holds his sword steady. Not that it will help him now. There are too many. He can’t take them all.
I can’t either.
I look to the crowd, hoping for swords and friendly faces, but there’s nothing but mass confusion and panic. Logan is a dead man walking, and so am I.
Except I’m not. Because I alone know where to find the Commander’s precious package. Maybe he forgot that in the heat of the moment. Maybe he figured there would be others he could hurt to make me bend to his will. Maybe he’s arrogant enough to think I’ll be too frightened of him to disobey, even without the threat of Logan’s death hanging over my head. Maybe the lives of others mean so little to him that he can’t imagine a single death that could significantly alter his plans.
He’s wrong.
Logan and the Commander circle each other as the guards fall back.
I creep behind the guards, looking for an opening.
The Commander thrusts. Logan blocks, but it’s clear he’s been injured and lacks the strength to keep up the fight for long.
He won’t have to. I know how to change the game. How to take away the one advantage the Commander is banking on.
Logan whirls and swings, flinging drops of blood. His sword goes wide, and the Commander steps into the gap, using Logan’s momentum against him. In seconds, he has his sword against Logan’s neck, and his vicious smile twists his scar into an ugly, knotted ball of prickled flesh. The guards behind Logan grab his arms, fling his sword to the floor, and pin him in place for the Commander.
“You drew a weapon against your leader. Killed multiple guards.” The Commander’s voice shakes the Square as he chops each syllable into jagged shards.
I see my opportunity and slide into the circle. Logan meets my eyes, and his expression begs me to leave. Run. Escape this hell of a city and never look back.
“The penalty for this is death.” The Commander turns to Logan.
“And what is the penalty for killing innocent citizens? For terrorizing a young woman? Who holds you accountable?” Logan is shouting, the same brilliant rage that burns through me spilling out of him.
The Commander’s smile dies slowly, extinguished by the look of pure hatred he gives Logan. “I am the law. I am justice.” He’s spitting the words in Logan’s face. “I am the one thing that keeps this city safe. You dare question me?”
“You aren’t justice. You’re a misbegotten monster too drunk on his own power to be trusted with it anymore.”
Purple flushes the Commander’s face, and he raises his sword arm.
“I, Commander Jason Chase, for the crime of treason and murder, do hereby sentence you to death,” he says, and aims his blade at Logan’s throat.
“Wait!” My voice carries across the Square and freezes everyone in place for the split second it takes me to fall to my knees where the Commander can see me, but no guard can reach me in time.
The Commander laughs. “Come to beg me to save him?”
My smile feels just as vicious as his. “He isn’t the one who needs saving.”
“Rachel, no,” Logan breathes.
I ignore him.
“What are you going to do, girl? Kill me?” The Commander’s voice is full of malice.
“No,” I say. Raising my knife, I aim it at the soft spot just below my sternum and take a deep breath.
The Commander’s sword, still pointed at Logan’s throat, wavers. “What are you doing?”
“Taking away the one thing you really want.” I say and dig the tip of the knife into my flesh, feeling a flash of pain and then the warmth of blood running down my skin.
Guards surge forward, and I scream, “Stop, or I’ll do it!”
The Commander sweeps his hand up, palm out, and the guards stop.
“Rachel, please,” Logan says softly. “Not this.”
I don’t look away from the Commander. “You want what only I know how to get. If you or anyone else in this city lays another hand on Logan, I’ll kill myself and you’ll never find the package.”
His jaw is clenched, pulling his scar taut. “Yesterday, I wouldn’t have said you had this in you.”
“The girl you dealt with yesterday is gone.” My voice is cold, my words rising from the terrible grief he carved into me with Oliver’s death. “Give me your word before all these citizens that Logan will remain unharmed for the duration of my journey, or the knowledge of where to find the package dies with me.”
His eyes are fierce pits of hatred as he slowly lowers his sword. “He will be unharmed as long as you return with what I need.” He makes a gesture to the guards holding Logan, and they begin dragging him from the stage.
“Wait!” I leap to my feet. “Where are you taking him?”
“You didn’t honestly think I would let my insurance policy wander around freely while you were gone, did you?” The Commander smiles. “He’ll be in the dungeon until you return.”
I lock eyes with Logan as the guards pull him past me, and I reach up to wrap my hand around his mother’s necklace.
He says softly, “Remember my promise, Rachel.”
I reach a hand toward him, but he’s already off the stage, being pulled through the crowd, which parts like water around him.
“You leave at dawn. Melkin goes with you.” The Commander is next to me, his sword still grasped in his hand. “I suggest you hurry. I doubt even a young man like Logan can withstand the hospitality of my dungeon for long.”
For one brief, glorious moment, I imagine turning, thrusting my knife through the Commander’s crisp blue military uniform, and watching with pleasure as he learns just how vulnerable a flesh-and-bone man really is.
But I’d never get to Logan before the guards deliver the death sentence I would’ve caused. I let the moment pass and turn to stare straight into the Commander’s dark eyes as I silently promise myself I’ll retrieve the package, secure Logan’s freedom, and deliver justice before the Commander realizes the girl whose loyalty he purchased in blood will be his final undoing.