Destiny's Blood by Marie Bilodeau (best authors to read .TXT) 📗

proceedings were now reduced to quiet meditation. The casket was gone, and the mourners with their lowered heads did not notice her. Still, she stuck to shadows and walked quietly, her steps accustomed to blending into even the thinnest of crowds. She still practiced the thief’s habit of locating exits in every room, so she knew there were only two ways out of this bunker — one was with a ship, which would be faster but too easily detectable, and the second was through what she guessed was the original entrance, the one used by the settlers in the main hall.

Yoma reached the main hall and quickly stole a garment to throw over her shoulder and head. It was a type of dress — or maybe a sheet, she wasn’t sure — but it was enough to get her past the mourners undetected. She snuck through houses and walls, over fences and under clotheslines, spotting the sought-after break. It was easy to spot, since no house had been built close to the exit for fear that wraiths might break in. Yoma cast glances left and right, and found everyone too absorbed in their grief to even look up. She slipped into the corridor, shed her acquired clothing, and dropped into a crouch. Two guards watched the corridor, whispering in panicked tones to one another. News of the moon had travelled fast, and so would news of her escape.

She hesitated, not wanting to hurt the guards too badly. She felt some sense of responsibility toward the people who would claim her as their queen. Yoma looked at her remaining weapons, most small and easily disguisable. Her biggest by far was a knife, but she found that she still had two sleep darts, and she smiled. Nice and easy.

She peered around the corner again, took note of their positions and swerved around. The darts were gone from her hand and into their skin before they had even realized she was there.

Their eyes rolled back into their heads and they collapsed. Yoma stepped over them and tried the door, which was locked with a strong deadbolt. Of course. She sighed as she searched the first guard, and then the second. She came up empty handed, save for a gun that she tucked into her belt.

She searched her back pockets and grinned as she pulled free two metal pins. She wished she had more light, but a good lock-picker had to rely only on her hands.

She inserted the pick and a small tension wrench, intent on scrubbing the lock quickly. She turned it once, twice, while carefully feeling the lock’s mechanism, and on the third try it opened.

Already getting rusty. She had, after all, spent the last few weeks on ships, and had cut down on her thieving beforehand for fear of dragging Layela’s growing business reputation down with her. One witness was all it took, and as a twin, they had twice the chance of identifying her. She deftly put her tools away and quietly stepped out into the night.

The air of Mirial was cool, the moon casting her disadvantage with its red hues. Part of the bunker had a huge fence around it, but this section was protected by cliffs, a door, and probably extra security inside, and had not been fenced. A small advantage.

From here, she couldn’t see where the corridor of the cliffs led. It was filled with cracks, shadows and maybe even caves. She took a deep breath and slowed her heart, keeping her ears and eyes alert for danger. She wished Josmere was with her to watch her back and prayed that no visions would take hold of her mind.

She crept along the side of the darkest cliff, sticking to the thickest shadows and the smoothest terrain. Suddenly a voice rang out of the darkness. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Yoma spun around, gun drawn. Avienne stepped out of the shadows and held up her hands.

“Even as bored as I am right now,” the redhead said, “I don’t think a firefight is quite the entertainment I’m looking for.” She lowered her hands and grinned. “But thanks anyway!”

“What are you doing here?” Yoma hissed, hoping no one had heard the loud smuggler.

Another voice shot out of the darkness and made Yoma’s heart almost beat out of her chest. “We should all stick together.” The voice was followed by Zortan, stepping out of the shadows right beside her.

He’s good. Yoma cast a wary glance at him.

“So you’re both stalking me?” Yoma’s anger boiled.

“Actually,” Avienne responded, kicking dust as she joined them. “I’m looking for ale, and since there was none in there, or on any other ship…”

Zortan ignored her. “We need to stay together to stay strong.”

“When did I join this happy little party?” Avienne mumbled.

Zortan ignored her again. “We need to keep you safe, Yoma, lest Mirial be lost.”

“I can’t believe I come from a place that doesn’t even have anything to drink. I think of all people, I miss Lang the most right now,” Avienne mumbled.

Yoma held up her hands to silence them both. “Please, I have to go, and the two of you will just slow me down.”

Avienne gave a short laugh that challenged that notion.

“You two stay here and help the Mirialers. I have to go and help Layela.”

Zortan’s eyes grew wide, but nowhere near the size of Avienne’s. “You mean she lives?”

Yoma nodded.

Avienne took an excited step forward. “You mean, my brother lives too?”

Yoma shrugged. “I assume so.”

Avienne’s hand came up so fast neither Yoma nor Zortan had the time to react. Her fist collided with Yoma’s chin. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she demanded, her voice low and laced with cyanide.

“I just found out,” Yoma said. She pulled herself back up, rubbing the side of her face. Not bad, and she was certain the smuggler had held back her strength.

“Blood and bones, Yoma! You could have saved me all that angry swearing in there! So many young ears spoiled by my carefully chosen words!”

Yoma couldn’t help but smile. Avienne