“Do you know the location of the underground shelter you spoke of?”
He nodded. “Follow me.”
He’d not been there himself, but he’d heard the others talk about it. He, Zandora, and five other Zandalee readied their bows and pulled the bowstrings taut as they took the steps down to the cellar. When they came to the back pantry room and it was empty, he motioned toward the chest. Still holding his bow, he slowly lifted the lid with his boot andflung it upward. Seven bows pointed down the empty shaft.
Tiern climbed down first, with Zandora behind him. They both unsheathed their daggers and kicked the panel door open to see a long, dim, empty room. They walked inside through the beds and disarray. The other Zandalee joined them. And then Tiern’s eyes landed on an open chest at the end of the room. He ran to it.
Once again the seven of them pointed their bows down into a shaft with a ladder. Tiern looked at Zandora.
“I didn’t know about this one. There must be tunnels out of the castle.”
Zandora exhaled and shook her head. “He has escaped. We must send warning.”
“If it’s not already too late,” Tiern said.
Paxton could feel the prince’s power, that zing of heat along his skin. If he could feel the prince, he was certain the man could feel him too. Paxton couldn’t believe his luck that he might find the Kalorian leader without his guards. This would be his one and only chance to kill the man.
Nearby burning houses sent shadows leaping and falling along the ground and trees and smaller cottages on the outskirts of town. He held his bowstring taut and tried to steady his ragged breathing while he searched. As he neared a cottage, the feel of Lashed power became even stronger.
He’s hidden within, Paxton thought. He wondered what makeshift weapon the devious man might have crafted forhimself. He thought of the last house, and how the prince had escaped through the window. Paxton snuck around to the back of the cottage and found a window the same size as the other had been. He nodded to himself and went back to the front.
He felt at his waist for the black powder smoke bomb Harrison had given him. He backed away from the house, lit the wick between his fingers, watched it burn halfway down, then launched the thing straight through the front window’s shutter.
Paxton sprinted around the cottage to the back and crouched, arrow pointed. It was much darker back there without the firelight. Within seconds the window was being pried open by thin hands and the prince’s coughing face was peering out. Paxton waited with his heart in his throat. His instinct was to shoot, but he needed to find out where the young prince was being held.
When Prince Vito’s feet hit the ground, Paxton stood and rushed forward. The prince spun, as if suddenly sensing Paxton’s presence, and he backed against the wall, brandishing a glinting dagger that could imbed itself in Paxton’s chest with a flick of the man’s wrist.
Vito snarled. “You!”
“Aye. Me.”
Apparently feeling more confident, the prince pushed away from the wall and grinned. “Why not come a little closer and we can battle like true Lashed men?”
Paxton pulled the bowstring taut. “I’m a hunter of beasts. I do not use my magic to kill for sport.”
“How many men have you killed?” Prince Vito asked.
“You will be my first.”
The prince chuckled. “Silly commoner. I am the prince of Kalor. This isnothow I will die.”
Paxton knew there was no way this man would give him information about Prince Donubhan. Their only hope was to kill him and capture his lackeys for information.
Sounds of battle were close. Paxton wanted to look over his shoulder, but didn’t dare take his eyes off Prince Vito. He weighed his chances; the prince had excellent reflexes. If he shot his arrow, Vito’d likely throw his dagger at the same time. But to have the man dead would be worth his own life.
“You are a waste of Lashed blood, peasant. I should keep you alive, cage you in my room, and let you have the pleasure of watching me with your queen—”
Paxton shot, diving to the side as prince Vito threw his weapon. Both men shouted in pain. The dagger had sliced Paxton’s shoulder, while his arrow planted firmly in the prince’s thigh. Vito was now weaponless. Paxton snagged another arrow and nocked it. The prince was breathing raggedly, leaning back against the cottage wall. He let out a groaning snarl.
“You will pay for that! I will shoot arrows at you in your cage. Then heal you when you’re about to die, and do it all over again. I will bring you to the brink of death over and over until you are begging to die.”
“Enjoy your last morbid dreams. You’re nothing but an imposter.”
Vito gritted his teeth, shaking. “I. Am. The most. Powerful. Man.Alive!”
Prince Vito lunged for Paxton, who let loose his arrow. It lodged straight in Vito’s throat as the prince’s deadly fingers grazed the front of Paxton’s tunic. He jumped away.
Paxton’s heart gave a great jolt as he watched Vito fall to his knees at his feet, feeling the protruding arrow with trembling hands and bulging eyes. Pax stepped back farther. It was the first time he’d ever watched a creature suffer without putting it out of its misery, but he didn’t dare touch him. Paxton watched Prince Vito struggle and thrash on the ground until the man’s spirit finally fled, alone, behind a cottage, with no glory. And though it gave Paxton no joy, it did provide him a moment of peace. Vito was no longer the most powerful man alive.
