Bound. Jen Colly

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СКАЧАТЬ laughed, though the wound at his side kept his amusement brief. “You won’t be doing much of anything sitting in here with me.”

      The man leaned to his left and into what little light the cell offered, and Morley strained to catch a glimpse of his face. No luck. His short beard and wild mass of curling chin-length hair kept him hidden.

      “I’m only visiting. Friend.” He drew out the last word, and recognition snapped through Morley like a whip. Morley’s cellmate could only be one man.

      “You’re Bruis’s son. Keir,” he announced, his throat tightening. “Guardians hauled you away. I saw it. You killed old Bruis. Thought you were dead. Should be.”

      Keir sent him a level stare. “You’re Legard’s servant. What did he offer you?”

      “No, not Legard. Please, my master had nothing to do with this,” Morley sputtered. “A man cornered me down on Shar, where the Legards have their clothes laundered. I’d never seen him before, I swear. He offered me enough money to buy my freedom from Legard.”

      “Is that so?” Keir tossed a stone, then another. “I’d like to find this man.”

      “What I know is useless. Brown eyes and a square chin were all I could see beneath his hood. He could be anyone. Even if you found him, I doubt he’d make you the same deal.” The instant the words left Morley’s mouth, Keir laughed softly. Morley sucked in a quick breath. He’d been wrong. “You don’t want a deal. You’re the unholy thing killing men in their sleep.”

      Keir leaned forward. A sinister grin split his lips. White, fanged teeth flashed in the dark. Trapped inside a cell, weak with the loss of blood, Morley had no escape. What was in Keir’s hand? Was it a…knife?

      * * * *

      Heavy footfalls of a Guardian approached, and Keir vanished. He’d easily taken his Spirit form, moving freely without being seen, even among his own kind. The only downfall of using Spirit was the chilled air it created around him. It would tip off the Guardians to his presence. Backing away from Morley, he tucked his invisible self into the far corner of the cell.

      The Guardian glanced left and right as he sped through, no doubt rushing his turn to check on the prisoners. He’d just passed the cell when his steps faltered in mid-stride. He backtracked, leaned closer, and studied the man on the floor.

      “Quint! Morley’s dead!” He yanked the keys off his belt, fumbled through them. The cell door swung open just as Quint came racing down the narrow aisle, his freckled face flushed.

      “It’s the same knife. Red rose on a white hilt. It’s him,” the Guardian whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “But he’s never killed in the dungeons.”

      “Or slit a throat.” Quint motioned the Guardian into silence and brought a radio to his lips. “Captain? We have a situation in the jail.”

      The radio buzzed briefly before the captain’s steady voice broke through. “Go ahead. What is it?”

      “Cancel the execution. It’s already happened.”

      “What?” the captain roared. “Who killed him?”

      Quint stared down at Morley’s corpse. “I don’t know, but he was killed with a very familiar knife.”

      Ten seconds of silence suddenly gave way to the captain’s controlled voice. “I’m about to enter a council meeting with an unexpected guest from Balinese. I can’t leave. Handle it, Quint.”

      “Yes, sir.” Quint clipped the radio to his hip. “Seal the jail. No one goes in or out, including Guardians. I want a full head count first, Guardians and prisoners, then a thorough search.”

      For nearly half an hour Keir watched the Guardians methodically check the jail from cell to cell, top to bottom. The captain’s second in command possessed an altogether entertaining tenacity when thrown into action. Keir hated to walk away, but the lady waited.

      In his invisible state, he sent Quint a mock salute, then turned, moving through the jail without giving his path much thought. He’d been here time and again, and he’d be back. Blocked walls, iron mazes, and wasting life. Home, sweet home.

      Keir skirted along the walls, keeping the cooler air of his Spirit clear of the Guardians. Often that chill could be felt nearly two feet away from his location. Being captured was not part of his plan. Best not to take the chance.

      The stairs carried him away from the prison to freely search for Morley’s intended target. Galbraith was an oddly constructed city, the cylindrical structure diving deep into the ground with a dozen levels. Originally designed to separate nobility from the lower classes, it remained true to its purpose. The layout made finding Lady Arianne a simple task.

      As Keir had just eliminated the need to execute Morley, the lady had no reason to make an appearance at the arena. Tonight being Monday, he scratched the chapel off his list. It wasn’t mealtime, which excluded the dining hall. By process of elimination, if she wasn’t in the council room, she’d be home.

      Still cloaked in Spirit, Keir paused not far from the closed and guarded doors of the council room. Relentless bickering seeped through the doors. He cringed and turned away. Her home waited two floors above.

      Chapter 2

      Galbraith

      He’d studied her, knew her habits. Out of the public eye and away from a herd of councilmen, the captain was her only companion. Lingering near the far wall in Spirit, Keir watched the doorknob turn. He had been right. She’d come home. Captain Wolfe Rye held open the door and stared down at Lady Arianne from his impressive height as she breezed into her home.

      Sliding the lock into place, the captain turned to her, scowling. “You better know what the hell you’re doing.”

      “You want to play the father figure? Fine.” She spun around and glared at him, her perfect pearl earrings swinging under the quick change in momentum. “Oh, wise one, what should I have done differently?”

      Wolfe retreated to the blush pink settee, sank down into the cushions. Eyes squeezed shut, the captain let his head fall back. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

      “Oh, yes you are.” Arianne tipped her chin up. “You have that I know best tone.”

      The captain gave his thick, short beard a choppy scratch. “Listen, I’m not saying you did anything wrong, but you’ve got to stop and think before you make these kind of changes.”

      Keir had heard enough. If they planned on bickering all night, he might as well show himself. Releasing his Spirit, he appeared in the lady’s flowered pastel chair, comfortably reclined and not a dozen feet from her.

      “Leaping before you look again, Lady?”

      Arianne squeaked and jumped back. Captain Rye reached for his gun. Recognition lit the captain’s eyes, and instead of his sidearm, he grabbed a pink pillow and whipped it at him.

      “Keir!” the captain bellowed. “You’re an ass, you know that?”

      “I’m only keeping you on your toes.” He scooped up the pillow and tossed it back to the settee.

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