The Crimson Campaign

Vlora hissed at him. She stood beside the window, her fingers on the curtain.

He went to her side. There were people outside, coming straight for the observatory portico. Tamas blinked. It was the same group he’d saved from the Kez soldiers. Was her husband among them?

“Hide!”

Tamas made for the closest door, sliding inside and closing it all the way but for the slightest crack. He checked his surroundings. A closet, albeit a big one. Vlora barely moved, electing to slide behind a thick curtain. Tamas swore quietly. Neither of them could extricate themselves without alerting the occupants of the room.

Tamas watched the room through a crack in the door. He could hear hushed voices outside, but not make out what they were saying. The glass door opened and the group filed in.

Most seemed wounded in some way. Two of them had to be carried. Tamas could smell the gunpowder and blood — but then again, that may have just been him.

“Get us some lights,” a woman’s voice said. “Ruper, take them to the sitting room. Fetch towels. Get a fire going. We need hot water.”

Tamas recognized that voice. Even after fifteen years he recognized the voice, and it surprised him.

Hailona.

Doors opened and shut, feet pounded frantically into the rest of the manor house. There was grunting and cursing as the wounded were carried to another room.

A male voice spoke up as someone fumbled around in the dark. “They’ll come for us.”

“I know,” Hailona said. She sounded miserable.

A lantern was lit, casting the room into light and shadow. Tamas blinked his eyes to let them adjust. Through the crack in the door he could see a Deliv with a black braided ponytail over one shoulder. The man suddenly swept his arm across a desk, throwing parchments, weights, and a small stack of coins to the floor.

“Someone must have sold us out!” he said. “I’ll find them, I’ll kill them with my bare hands.”

“Calm down, Demasolin,” Hailona said.

“I will not! All is lost. They were ready for us. You saw it as well as I. The bloody Adrans! Indier took a bullet through the eye the moment she stepped into that room! A dozen musket men, all concealed in the shadows. Someone had betrayed us.”

“They’re not bloody Adrans,” Hailona said. She sounded uncertain. “You heard them speak in Kez.”

“A ruse! Two brigades in Adran blues! You think we wouldn’t have heard about two brigades of the Grand Army splitting off from Budwiel to come up here? Our spies are better than that.”

“And our spies in Adro?”

“We have few spies in Adro! They’re supposed to be allies.”

“Tamas would never — ”

Demasolin whirled on Hailona. “Don’t you defend him! That damned butcher would do anything, and you know it.”

“And Sabon?” There was steel in Hailona’s voice. “You think Sabon would let him attack Deliv?”

Tamas felt his breath seize in his chest. Oh, pit. She didn’t know Sabon was dead. He’d sent her a message, but it must not have reached her. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to control his breathing.

“There’s a reason your parents disowned him,” Demasolin said.

Tamas heard a loud crack. Demasolin reeled back into view, clutching his cheek. Hailona stormed after him. It was the first time Tamas had gotten a good look at her.

She had not aged well. Her features were wrinkled, her hair gone gray. There were well-defined crow’s-feet in the corners of eyes red from unshed tears. Her jaw was set, her hand raised to strike again.

“Speak ill of my brother again,” she said quietly, her voice a challenge.

Demasolin squared his shoulders. “You dare strike a duke of the king?”

A duke. No wonder he thought Tamas a butcher. The nobility of all the Nine feared and hated Tamas, even his supposed allies. Just what Tamas needed.

Hailona was about to speak when Demasolin held up one hand. He sniffed the air. His eyes suddenly darted around the room.

“There’s someone here,” he whispered.

Tamas could see Vlora’s hiding spot from his own. The curtains shifted slightly. Tamas laid his hand on the hilt of his sword and took a long, quiet breath. He put his other hand on the closet door, ready to push it open at any moment.

Demasolin drew his sword and began to make a long circuit of the room, sniffing and casting about. Tamas let himself relax and opened his third eye. Demasolin glowed faintly in the Else.

He had a Knack.

Demasolin had just passed Vlora’s hiding spot when he suddenly whirled and thrust his sword into the curtains with a shout.

Tamas choked down a startled cry.

Nothing had happened. Demasolin pulled back the curtains.

“An open window,” Hailona said. “Really?”

“There!” Demasolin said, gazing out into the night. “Someone flees!” He dashed out the door, sword at the ready, and into the night.

The room was empty but for Hailona. He could see her rush to the door, watching Demasolin disappear. A moment later she came back into the room, her shoulders slumped, and dropped into a divan.