A Burning Sea by Theodore Brun (snow like ashes series TXT) 📗

creature for all her cunning. ‘Damn it, woman, quit struggling! I don’t want to hurt you though gods know you deserve it.’

He saw her bright, frightened eyes glance out to sea. He followed her gaze and there, winking on the black water, was an orange light. But the next thing he knew was pain exploding in his groin and ripping through his bowels like a starburst. He lost his grip on her, toppled forwards straight into her small fist driving into his jaw. He was on his knees like a sack of shit.

‘Stop her!’ yelled Erlan, his voice rising from somewhere on the staircase. Fine for him to say, thought Einar. That was easier said than done.

Anyway, she had already thrown herself at the wall. Einar launched after her, lunging with his seax. He felt the long blade connect, twisted his wrist and rolled onto his back, but she was over the wall and dropping with the confidence of a cat down the other side before he could blink. By the time he’d shoved his head through the embrasure, she was already at the foot of the wall. He watched her stumble across the rough ground and the rocks to the small cliff edge where the sea was gently lapping. Even from there, he could see her back heaving and she was clutching her left side. She stopped to glance back up at the wall, then turned and dived into the water.

Einar’s forearm was smarting like he’d shoved it in a hornets’ nest.

‘Where is she?’ gasped Erlan, wide-eyed.

‘Where is she!’ snarled Einar. ‘Where the Hel were you?’

‘I thought you had her.’

‘I did! But now she’s gone. There.’ Einar jabbed his seax south at the dark head bobbing on the swell, slowly closing the distance to the little light. Soon she was just another shadow in a sea of black.

Erlan squinted, straining his eyes against the darkness. ‘Did she make it?’

‘I couldn’t tell.’

Erlan cursed.

Einar looked down at the blade in his hand, then held it up for Erlan to see. Six inches of steel from the tip were slick with blood. Erlan shook his head in disgust and turned away.

Meanwhile, Einar’s balls were throbbing like war drums. Gods, but that girl could kick. He was about to follow after Erlan when his foot knocked against something on the flagstones, making it roll. He stooped down and picked it up. Peered at it.

‘Here, lad,’ he growled. ‘Look at this.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Erlan had come to her before dawn. She knew he had to go, knew in her heart that it was for her that he went. But the parting was hard.

He told her what had happened. Admitted what he hadn’t before: that he knew the woman who had tried to kill the emperor, but that once before she had helped him. Lilla understood. Erlan didn’t judge as other men. He took from others no more than was his due. But, he said, something strange was afoot. He told her that Einar had found a leather pouch and inside was. . . nothing.

Even so, Erlan was certain the incident boded ill. In turn, Lilla had told him of her failure the day before. There would be no more friendly audiences with the lampros. All her efforts were wasted. She wondered whether Nikolaos was vindictive, whether what she had done would come to the ear of Leo and she would have to give an account of herself.

‘Keep your head down while we’re gone,’ said Erlan. ‘You should be safe within the palace precinct. This isn’t your fight.’

‘It is,’ she insisted. ‘Of course it is. If the city falls, our hopes fall with it.’

‘I need you to lie low. Please.’ He squeezed her hands till it hurt. ‘Let me do this for you. And meanwhile, befriend the princess or the empress, or do whatever you think may help. Just don’t provoke anyone. And promise me you’ll leave the lampros and the other fire-makers alone.’

‘All right.’ She nodded evasively.

‘I mean it. Well alone,’ he repeated, forcing her to look him in the eye.

She suddenly smiled and kissed him. ‘I will. And you. . . get this thing done. Then come back to me. All of you.’

He kissed her again, fiercely, and then left her.

She had watched them depart in a clatter of hooves from an upper gallery overlooking the Sentinels’ Courtyard. The two Northmen, two other imperial guards in white and another garbed in blue – all of them escort to the emperor’s envoy, Lord Daniel, Eparch of the City, who looked anything but comfortable on top of his horse. And finally Aska, Erlan’s huge rangy hound, trotting along obediently beside his master. She watched them ride out through the great Bronze Gate, her eyes fixed on his dark tousled hair until the whole party vanished from sight on the far side of the Augustaion. She prayed it would not be the last time she saw him.

Back in her chambers, she paced up and down, picking up items, fidgeting with them, putting them down again, pacing some more.

‘Well?’ Gerutha was standing hands on hips, a challenging look on her lined face.

‘What is it?’

‘If you’re going to be walking up and down for the next who knows how long, I just might find me some other place to live.’

‘Oh. Sorry, Grusha. There’s too much weighing on my mind.’

‘Yours and mine both. But you don’t have to make it worse by giving us both a headache.’ Her servant’s stern expression softened. ‘Why don’t you come with me and Domnicus into the city?’

‘No. I’m. . . I’m too distracted.’

‘Well, go for a walk in the gardens or something. You can’t stay cooped up here.’

‘Maybe you’re right.’ She shook her head and snorted. ‘Anyway, you’re spending a lot of time with Domnicus, aren’t you?’

‘What of that?’

‘And he gave you that.’ Lilla pointed at the little golden cross hanging around Gerutha’s neck. ‘What does it signify anyway?’

‘It’s the sign of their god.’

‘I know that. But what does it mean?’

Gerutha