Night of Masks and Knives (The Broken Kingdoms Book 4)
Night of Masks and Knives: Book 2 – Chapter 22

Outside, I couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t because of the fetid air.

This was becoming too real, too soon.

The Wild Hunt would come to the different regions in different seasons. I’d never been permitted to go, but had watched from afar, and the Skítkast arena was nothing compared to the large game field in Klockglas with its soft grass, red track, and smooth stone benches for the spectators.

Here, clumpy dirt made up the center pit, no grass at all, and the stands were wooden and old. Most looked ready to snap if any more weight settled on the rickety benches. Dirtier, smellier, but the same thrill lived in the sound of pounding hooves, in riders tucked low with great horned helmets atop their heads as they raced for the final prize.

At the end, the grand hunter was awarded baskets of finery; things like spiced meats and sweet wine, silk tunics and woolen doublets, polished horns and steel daggers, and coin—heaps of coin.

The crowd packed in, shoulder to shoulder, cheering for their favorite rider.

Six formidable black stallions thundered around the arena. Posts with ribbons for the riders to snatch as they rode past were staked all along the track to symbolize the All Father, the gods, and underground folk riding away with unsuspecting mortal souls.

Riders were fierce, bulky brutes. How many more began the Hunt but fell out of the games after breaking bones?

In Klockglas, one rider lost his hand. Funny enough, he’d insisted he still wanted to compete and made enough of a fuss when officials wouldn’t allow it, he ended up in the Howl’s north prison for a season to think it over.

The lead rider wore colors like a midnight sky, inky blue with silver banners fluttering like wings from the sides of his horned helmet. His horse snorted. The beast had fire in its eyes.

Like the lead, each rider dressed in diverting costumes. Some had raven feathers on their cloaks; the horns on one helmet curled as if ready to tie in knots. Another rider had his long hair braided into a heavy rope down his back. One risked an eye patch over an eye to honor the father of gods.

He didn’t have favor from any god since he slipped into the third position, his horse foaming and panting.

Dagny nudged me through the sea of sweaty people. I held tightly to the cheer girl as we aimed for the box suites at the top. I’d already dodged at least five wandering hands from the audience, one was a councilman who snatched me by the arm, wanting a cheer girl on his lap. Without Dagny, I would’ve been devoured before reaching this point.

″The Kryv trusted you for a reason; you will be all right.” Dagny patted my cheek. “The Nightrender never does anything at random. He’d find another way if he didn’t think you could do this. Good luck.”

She opened the door, leaving me utterly alone in the shadows.

I dragged in a breath through my nose, balled my fists until my fingers hurt, and scanned the dark suite. It reeked like unwashed skin beneath a cloak of damp wood.

In the far corner, the same man from Mistress Salvisk’s memory rose from a velvet winged chair. The difference from the memory and now was Boswell Doft stood at least two heads taller.

″Let me see you,” he commanded.

I licked my lips, mouth sticky, and forced what I hoped was a sultry grin.

His shaved head reminded me of a pale moon, but Doft had hands capable of snapping my neck without trouble. I wrapped an arm around one of the posts keeping the roof from caving in, puffed out my chest, and stroked the furred tail, trying to lure him in as I imagined a seductive huldrefolk might.

Doft dragged his lustful eyes up my body. “You’ll do nicely.”

Now was the time to prove how well I could play a game. I needed him close, needed him to look at me beyond a warm body.

I bit the tip of my finger, playing rakish to hide how terribly my hands shook. “I can please in other ways, Herr.”

″What ways?” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled my back against his body. Doft’s bottom teeth seemed too big for his mouth, and when he grinned white frothed in the corners of his lips. The crook in his nose hinted it had been broken more than once and left him puffing his hot breath through an open mouth.

He pressed a kiss to my neck. I wanted to retch.

″You are the man of mesmer.” His hands paused on my waist. I didn’t know what I was doing, but he auditioned mesmer. If I could throw him off by requesting an audition, maybe I could take control in his distraction. “For the . . . the Masque av Aska?”

Doft dragged in a harsh, labored sniff through his crooked nose. Was he . . . smelling me? Then, he shoved me away. “I should’ve known the instant you stepped into the room. You are rank.”

″I want to perform. For you.”

He chuckled and traced the edge of my jaw. “You’d like to leave this place, wouldn’t you, child?”

″Yes, Herr.”

″What is your Kind?”

″Elixist,” I lied, and tugged on my skirt, pretending to reach for some ingredient for a potion. My hands shook, and I hoped when I returned with one of my twin knives, I’d be able to strike true. All I needed was to get close and take a bit of breath. “I can show you.”

The moment my hand curled around the hilt of one knife, a hot pain spread through my skull, and I was thrown back. Blood coated my tongue. My head spun.

Doft gripped my hair, drawing my face to his. “Auditions are closed. But there are still uses for you.”

I kicked at him, tried to reach the knives, but he straddled me, pinning my arms at my sides. His breath scorched my skin when he pressed his lips to my ear. “Stupid witch. I think I might take you, just to watch you rot at the Black Palace.”

His lips left wet tracks over my shoulder, wetter than I thought kisses should be. He nipped my ear. A bone-chilling cold stole through me. I thrashed and screamed. I bit his palm.

″Bleeding hells!” Doft raised his hand to strike me again but wailed in agony and crumbled to the side.

Floorboards shifted and Ash’s pale face popped into the suite. He stood on the beams below, half in the suite half not. His hands opened wide, and one of Doft’s fingers was now bent at a sickening angle.

Above me, a slat of the rooftop shifted and Isak dropped through, followed by black eyes.

I breathed a little easier, even smiled when Kase dropped in front of me. The way he regarded me with undivided attention for a few moments, he was more Kase than a man lost in shadows.

Doft moaned. I stayed on the ground, quivering with anger, thoughts of his ugly mouth on my skin. Fists clenched, I stood and pressed the heel of my boot on Doft’s neck, holding him there for the guild to destroy.

Kase lifted an eyebrow at the move and crouched next to the man.

When Ash slipped into the suite, I removed my foot, and hugged the boy to me as if he needed protection. Ash was nearly taller than me, but he didn’t pull away.

″You?” Doft muttered at Kase, then laughed. “I always wondered when we’d meet again. Such . . . exquisite talent.”

Kase took the revel master’s chin in his hand. “What’s wrong with you, Boswell? Not interested in the girl? Perhaps she frightened you.”

″I never thought you’d be trading your own kind, boy.”

Kase tilted his gaze to me. “Trading yourself?”

″I improvised.”

He chuckled darkly and looked back to Doft. “You must not be in cooperative mood. Let’s see if we can change that, shall we?”

″Go to the hells,” Doft snapped.”

″I’ve been many times; terribly ugly this time of season.”

″Crack your sharp tongue all you want. To me you’ll always be nothing but a skinny boy, crying for his girl.”

My chest squeezed hard enough I thought it might snap a rib. His girl.

The way Kase spared the briefest glance over his shoulder, told me what I needed to know. He’d cried out for me, and I never came.

As littles, I had Hagen. But Kase had me. Until he had no one, only the cruelty of men like Boswell Doft. I imagined young Kase, alone and terrified, and I wanted to dig my boot back into Doft’s throat.

Kase turned over his shoulder. “Isak, our friend is refusing. Persuade him.”

There was a flash of recognition over Doft’s face when Isak stepped forward. He knew them. Were Kase, Isak, all the Kryv, forced to showcase their mesmer for this fiend?

Isak did nothing, but in another breath, Doft clawed at his eyes, screaming about blindness.

″Get what you need,” Kase told me.

I released Ash and kneeled. “I didn’t think you’d come so soon.”

″I grew tired of him touching you.”

A frenzied heat filled my cheeks. I blinked away and cleared my throat. “It may take some time. Memories come easier when they’re deliberately thinking of them.”

″Your mesmer knows how to read him,” Kase said. “Trust it does.”

″What exactly am I looking for?”

″Any moments of his business for the Masque av Aska. Anything you can find in the time Isak can give you.”

″Isak,” I said. “What are you doing to him?”

Doft still scraped his face, whimpering as his broken finger bent more at the motion.

″He darkens the mind,” Ash said and flicked his hands. “Makes stupidly stupid folk think they’re blind.”

Despite what Kase said, there wasn’t time to marvel. I steeled myself and pressed my lips to Doft’s sour mouth. His gasps made the entire process easier, but the way he tried to bite back required more than one attempt. Doft groaned, then retched on the floor when I was through.

I clutched the sides of my head, focusing, desperate to find a clue anywhere in this wretched man’s mind. The living who willingly gave up their memories were simple to read, but those with memories taken by force—I’d only cracked a few. Salvisk was an exception, then again, Gunnar had forced her to comply.

Mesmer will know. I repeated Kase’s words until the smoke began to swirl and shapes formed in my head.

As I waded through Doft’s memories, I started to wish my mesmer would’ve left his alone. A brutal, disgusting man who’d spent the last few nights with cheeries. Every time he’d left them sobbing after he’d finished.

The repulsive scenes changed to something simpler. A coach parked outside a cheer house. Doft was dressed much like he was at Mistress Salvisk’s, but he wasn’t alone.

A second man with a fat herb roll in his mouth sat next to him.

″You understand what you’ve been entrusted with, Hans?” Doft said.

Holding up a long tube with a leather strap, Hans nodded. “Yes, My Lord. I will see to it Klaus readjusts these to be rid of any vulnerabilities.”

″I will be at the last ride to finalize the deals with the whores. We’ll meet then.”

Hans nodded and clutched the tube to his chest, ready to die for whatever was in it.

Smoke began to fade. I could dig more, take more breath, but Isak groaned and leaned against the wall.

Energy was fading. What I’d stolen would need to be enough.

I swallowed the bitter taste of Doft, grateful to be rid of his ugliness. “Another man has something important, at a place called Klaus, I think.”

What if we missed our opportunity? I bit my anguish into my bottom lip. Hagen had never felt so far from me than this moment.

″Rest, Isak.” Kase’s voice was wholly the Nightrender.

Isak blinked several times, slumped, then moved aside.

″I don’t know what it is. I couldn’t hold it long enough,” I admitted in a whisper when Kase came close.

He nodded with understanding. “There are other ways to get answers.” Kase turned and gripped Doft’s jaw again. “Why don’t you tell me what you know about this turn’s masque. Anything might help, Boswell.”

″Wanting to return, are you?” Kase struck Doft across the face, but the man only sneered. “Do your worst. I’m no coward.”

Kase laughed darkly. “Then why are you so afraid?”

The words did something to Doft. His eyes widened and he shook his head. Kase squeezed harder around Doft’s jaw. “One more chance. Give me what I want, and you can ravish the cheer houses to your worm-eaten heart’s content.”

″Tell me what you want exactly, and perhaps I’ll be obliged to help.”

Kase chuckled. “Doubtful, but let’s try, shall we? Tell me about the Alver trade set to go on at this turn’s masque.”

Boswell laughed, so a little bloody spittle dribbled over his chin. “You don’t miss anything, do you? Whatever you’re planning, you will fail. Too many measures have been taken to ensure complete security.”

″I think you underestimate me.”

″I think you underestimate the Lord Magnate.”

Kase’s jaw tightened. “There is always a way in, or there would be no event. An invitation of some kind.”

″No.”

″No?” Kase tilted his head, a flash of shadows in his eyes as his temper flared. I’d learned when the Nightrender was discomposed, the shadows came out. “So, the Lord Magnate trades Alvers to himself?”

Boswell laughed again. “Ah, it is satisfying to perplex you, boy.”

″Oh, I’m afraid you’ve mistaken repulsion for perplexity.” Despite his words, Kase began to pace in front of Doft, that curved knife in his hand. “There will be a token given to those welcomed into the trade.” He puzzled out loud. “Likely near the beginning of the masque.”

″You’re wrong.”

Kase came to a stop. “Tell me how I’m wrong, Boswell.”

″I’d rather keep you guessing.”

Kase tapped the point of his knife to his chin and picked up his nervous pacing again. What was he doing? He almost seemed content to appease Doft.

The contrast between this Nightrender and the brutal man who slit a man’s throat at Salvisk’s was stark and unsettling.

″I think it’ll be done the night before. A private party, perhaps?” Kase glanced at Isak. “I’m certain we could find a way in.”

″There will be no private party, you bleeding fool.” Boswell shifted with a heavy sigh. “Release me now, and I might forget to tell the Lord Magnate you were here, boy.”

Kase rubbed his forehead as if his mind hurt. “This is such a challenge. You might’ve gotten the better of me.”

What in the hells? I tilted my head, watching his madness. Did Boswell do something to him to make him so . . . so . . . odiously friendly? Doft’s blood did not reek, but perhaps he had some kind of Elixist potion on hand.

″I think I have it,” Kase said, voice light and airy. “Guests will be selected at the masque if they impress the Lord Magnate.” He laughed and winked—the bleeding Nightrender winked—at Isak. “We can certainly manage such a thing. We’ve plenty of connections to help us look like the prettiest cocks at the fete.”

Now, Boswell clapped in amusement. “And to think folk fear you. I’m afraid your plan is futile, you’re two breasts short of the liking for the Heir Mag . . .”

An eerie chill filled the booth, choking off Boswell’s words. The man paled, no doubt realizing his misspeak.

I shuddered when Kase’s ridiculous, false smile faded, and his eyes blackened like a damp night. Shadows spilled from every lath, every corner, from beneath my feet, darkness shifted and enrobed Doft in a mist of pitch.

″I see,” Kase said, his voice returned to the deadly rasp. “The trade is for the new bride.”

″No. No, you misunderstood.” Doft’s voice was desperate. Frightened.

″I don’t think I did. Our petulant heir will take the lovely, adoring potential bride and allow her into the bid—a way to preen, I suppose. But who gets the Alver, I wonder? The woman who laughs at his jokes? Sucks his tongue? Has her hands in his trousers to see if anything worthwhile is there?”

Boswell grunted in frustration as the shadows coiled tighter around him. “Thank you, Doft. You’ve been most helpful.”

Kase took a step closer.

″Wait!” Doft cried out. “The woman, your Alver, she went in my head. Took part in my thoughts. You and I both know what she is, and what it’d mean. We take her to the Black Palace—split the payout. The Lord Magnate would make you a bleeding nobleman for delivering the likes of her.”

Shadows faded.

Doft, sweaty and breathing heavily, lifted his eyes to Kase who’d gone still.

It took another moment for him to catch his bearings, but soon enough, Boswell laughed. “By the gods. Does she not know? You should tell her; it’s rather unfair not to give her a fighting chance.”

I furrowed my brow. “What is he talking about?”

″He’s a lunatic,” Kase said, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. The man at Salvisk’s had wanted to sell me much the same.

Kase flicked his sleeve and a new stiletto knife slid into his palm.

″A pick knife. Made with bronze,” Ash whispered because he couldn’t help himself. “Quick cuts, but deep. A lot of damage.”

“You should’ve stopped talking, Boswell.” Kase rammed the knife into Doft’s shoulder. As Boswell cried out his agony, Kase hooked his thumbs inside the man’s mouth, gripping the lower jaw. “But you always did run your damn mouth too much.”

Doft tried to move, but Kase didn’t allow it before he made a swift motion with his hands, and a sickening crack of bone echoed against the slat walls.

Doft moaned, his eyes rolled back in his head, and the lower part of his mouth hung slack. Snapped off the hinges.

I swallowed bile. Ash flicked his fingers, and Isak kept stalwart and silent.

“Always muttering and going on about nothing.” Kase ripped the knife free and wiped the blood across Doft’s forehead. “It’s time for silence.”

In the next breath, the Nightrender sliced the knife edge, swifter than a gasp, over Doft’s neck.

Boswell opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, wet sounds in his throat. A red stain blossomed down the front of his chest, and soon he crumbled in a puddle of his own blood.

″You killed him,” I said, a little ill at all the mess.

“Yes. Are we going to debate the morality of this again?” When I said nothing, he pulled a hood over his head and sheathed his knife. “It’s time to move or we’re not getting out of here. Now, let’s go.”

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