But Valek remained in place. “You go on without me.”
Everyone stared at him.
“But—” Pasha started.
“Stay together and act as if I’m still with you. I’m going to need a couple days, so lead them on a merry chase.”
Understanding smoothed her features.
“What do we do when we arrive in Sitia without you?” Adrik asked.
“Find Yelena. She’ll make sure you’re not arrested or harmed.”
“You can’t beat him,” Qamra said.
“No, but I have to try. It’s Sitia’s only chance.”
“What should we tell Yelena?” Pasha asked.
“That I’m doing this for a peaceful life. She’ll understand.”
* * *
Valek returned to the castle. He knew every inch of the building, from the dungeon’s abyss to the rooftops. First he needed a place to hide. He had regained some of his strength while recuperating in the infirmary, but he had to get back into fighting shape before he faced the Commander.
Five days later, he was ready. Well, as ready as it was possible to be, considering his circumstances. Plus only four days remained until the Commander attacked Sitia. To conserve his energy, Valek decided on a frontal assault versus climbing over the rooftops. Stealth was no longer needed.
After the Commander retired for the evening, Valek strode up to the two men guarding the entrance into his apartment. He hoped his reputation would scare them away, but he was prepared to fight dirty to save energy.
When he approached, he cursed under his breath. Just his luck—Sergeant Gerik was on duty. Valek wondered if the Commander had informed the man that Onora still lived. Gerik growled and pulled his sword when he spotted Valek. That would be a no. The second man also brandished his weapon, but he appeared a bit shaky.
“I should have let you fall to your death,” Gerik said, sliding his feet into a fighting stance.
Gerik had been covering the wall the night Valek had visited the Commander. “Onora is alive and well.”
That deflated some of the menace from Gerik. Not all, but it was a start.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” the sergeant asked.
“Because your sister trusts me.”
He jerked in surprise. “She told you?”
“Yes. Thank you for saving my life. Now get lost.”
The other man took a step back, but Gerik put a big hand on his shoulder, anchoring him in place. “We can’t,” he said. “The Commander would hang us as traitors. And, no offense, Valek, but if Onora couldn’t kill him, you can’t, either.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Valek drew a knife with one hand while he yanked a couple darts with the other. Before the men had a chance to react, he hit them both in the neck with Leif’s sleeping draft.
Gerik yanked his out. “What’s this?”
“It’s supposed to make you fall asleep,” Valek said.
An awkward silence ensued. Finally, Gerik’s companion swayed on his feet and leaned back on the wall. The guard struggled to keep his eyes open and failed. He toppled to the ground.
Showing no signs of drowsiness, Gerik glanced at his companion. “Supposed to?”
“Leif warned us that it doesn’t work on everyone.” And it was just his luck that he’d found someone who was immune. Valek didn’t have the time or energy to spare to fight Gerik. Perhaps he should hit him with a second dart.
Shoving the dart back into his neck, Gerik stretched out on the floor.
Touched by the big man’s gesture, Valek said, “Thank you again.”
“It was nice knowing ya.” Gerik closed his eyes.
Valek unlocked the door into the short hallway that contained only two doors that faced each other. Valek’s suite was on the right and the Commander’s on the left. He paused as sorrow swelled. Twenty-four years together, and they ended up right back where they started.
The Commander’s door was unlocked. Keeping the knife in his hand, Valek entered without knocking, then drew the second blade. Ambrose sat in his favorite armchair by the hearth, sipping brandy. Valek’s knives rested on the table in front of him.
Not surprised to see Valek, the Commander smiled instead. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He gestured to an empty glass. “Drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“All right, then.” The Commander set his drink down and snatched the daggers from the table in one fluid motion. He stood. “Shall we?” He inclined his head toward the right side of the living area. The Commander had cleared away all the furniture.
“Can I convince you not to invade Sitia?” Valek asked.
“No.”
“Then we shall.” Keeping the Commander in sight, he moved to the cleared area. “I wish to reclaim my knives.”
“Oh, you’ll get them back soon enough.” The Commander attacked.
When they had sparred before, the Commander preferred to remain on the defensive for the first series of exchanges, testing Valek. Not this time. Ambrose lunged, aiming for Valek’s throat with the intent to kill in his cold hard gaze.
Valek shuffled back and blocked. The impact reverberated through Valek’s bones. The grim knowledge that this fight wouldn’t last long coiled around his heart and tightened, evicting the fear and doubt that had been dwelling there. Pure determination pulsed inside him as the Commander increased the pace, striking with unrelenting quick jabs—a brutal street style that Valek hadn’t expected.