KINGSLAYER

♕ 5 | 3 ♕

Act 3 Chapter 53
ALEXANDER

Even before I was fully awake, I heard rustling in the room. I instantly jolted to consciousness, sitting up. There was fresh blood all over the floor.

I looked to where Jaylah sat hunched on the edge of her bed. "What happened? Did you get stabbed?"

She didn't bother to pause from her work. "Do you think I would be this calm if I was attacked during the night?"

"I imagine your pride keeps you from overreacting."

"I was not stabbed. It is merely my monthly cycle."

Eyeing the splattered blood, I became overwhelmingly glad I was not born a woman. "Oh thank the Hounds. I thought someone stole my killing shot."

Standing from my bed, I strode across the room to peer down at the piece of fabric she was using to soak up the bloodstains. "Are we traveling today or are you in too much pain?"

"No amount of pain is worth what will happen if Daggen catches up with us."

My lip curled. She was always so dramatic.

Despite what Jaylah said, I saw she walked stiffly in the knees to hide her pain as we set out for the day. Though she ruthlessly cut every sign of weakness out of her physical appearance, I always saw it. I had to—for when we arrived in Houissons. The plan between Daggen's men and I still stood.

"You look terrible," I told her.

"An opinion you never fail to remind me despite your features having all the beauty of a bridge troll."

"I meant," I emphasized, affronted, "You look centimeters from collapsing."

"I am fine."

"Whatever you say. Just know that I'm not catching you when you faint from blood loss."

"That is not how it works." Under her breath, she muttered a few words, of which I only caught men and idiotic.

"That's it." I crossed my arms. "I am never being amicable with you again."

She gave a haughty scoff, somehow managing to look down her nose at me while being much shorter. "Have we been hearing the same conversation? When have you ever been amicable? You just deemed me unsightly."

"Terrible was the word I used." Although unsightly was better.

"Keep your mouth shut. I wish to travel without garnering a headache by the end of the day."

"No. I'll get bored."

"Gods." She looked to the heavens as if searching for her aforementioned deities. "You are as petulant as a spoiled child."

"Oh, Jaylah." I dropped my voice, tilting my head down to give her a half-lidded grin. "I'm willing to show you how much of a man I am. All you have to do is ask nicely."

When she swung around to get a good look at me, brows pulled low over her burning eyes, I thought this was the moment: she was finally going to skin me alive.

Whatever her reaction was going to be, it was cut off by a deafening crack. I slapped my hands over my ringing ears as if I could push the sound out. After everything, loud noises filled me with a fright so deep it had soaked into my bones and taken root.

Whipping around to the commotion's cause, I saw a towering man with a shiny contraption outstretched in his hand. Was that a revolver? I believed the make was called a Pit-viper, its bite as lethal as venom. But I thought only the West had such weapons...

"It's him," Jaylah whispered to me in Oceanic. The pieces were falling together. Whoever this man was, he'd been following us for days after not making an attempt on Jaylah weeks ago. What changed?

But then, as he took aim once more through the crowds of screaming people, I realized it was me. He never meant to kill Jaylah because he didn't know who she was. But I'd garnered a name for myself in the world of crime...

Not needing to out another thought into the matter, we fled with the panicked crowd. My heart stopped with another deafening bang. Shit. Coming from the right, the shell hit the cobblestone less than a yard to my left, meaning a step further and I would be filled with metal shrapnel. Whoever he was, he was a magnificent shot. And we, armed with nothing but blades Jaylah would stubbornly never lend to me, were hopelessly outmatched.

I may have loved a good fight, but I was far from stupid. As long as he had the revolver, this was not a battle I could win through direct combat. So it was either running or trickery. And as our pursuer rounded the corner and took another shot that shattered a hanging flowerpot directly overhead, I continued to choose the former. I let out a hissed, "Fuck," as ceramic shards crashed on top of my skull. It was just painful. I could take it.

No. We'd turned down a short street with no chance for cover, no walking pedestrians. We were sitting ducks, just waiting for our throats to be cut.

Just keep going. Just keep going. That was what I always did. Even as another bang went off and my side was instantly racked with fire. Alarm bells were blaring in my head. The two layers of clothing over my abdomen were soaking through.

I couldn't seem to get enough breath. Through some miracle, we managed to make it to the next corner and down a thin pathway beside a reeking sewage pipe. There was an entrance underground ahead, but that meant taking a chance on a dead end. With an emphasis on dead.

As my concern built, I dared a brush of my fingertips against my side and my fingertips came away red. Still, the gash had not broken far through the flesh between my ribs. It was basically a graze. Hounds, that was close to my heart.

There were rapid footsteps approaching from the side. A shortcut. My intuition told me to duck low, and thank the Hounds I was fast, because the next shot would have passed through my skull. Instead, it sailed through the front windows of a dress shop. Glass smashed under my feet. High-pitched screams sounded from inside as the women dove for cover. In the distance, someone desperately called for the authorities. Had passerby gotten caught in the crossfire?

We were back on the city's main street, which was lined by black light posts on a waist-high wall. The storefront sidewalk on the other side gave away to the river further down. With a glance, I saw several boats were passing each way, unaware of the chaos in their proximity. What I would have given to be blissfully unaware on one right then.

The man—who, with skill like that, I figured was safe to assume was a fellow mercenary—appeared in the center of the bridge behind us, and the scene had never been more open. Nowhere to turn, nowhere to run.

Jaylah was rummaging around in the pack. A dark question churned at the pit of my stomach. Was she going to try to unleash the locket's power to kill the mercenary?

As I clutched my burning side in the spare few seconds, I realized she was sealing the pack off. The mercenary was approaching with frightening speed. I knew what we had to do.

Standing on top of the stone wall, we both pitched ourselves over the other side.

Despite the sunny weather, the river was freezing. My teeth clamped together at the feel of it against my aching body. The water was disgustingly murky as the current swept me further away. I had no idea how deep I was, so I swam the way I hoped was up.

My head broke the surface and I blinked the bleariness from my eyes. Swiveling toward the bridge, I scanned it for the bulky mercenary. The shouts of soldiers were growing louder, searching for him just as I was. But we were swept downstream by the current, taken far, far away from him.

Though I had no doubt that as we fled south, he would be right behind.