The Warden

Chapter 16

A breeze cooled against Masis' scorching nape as Kyla mumbled something under her breath.

He had known it was Kyla. The moment her eyes drilled into him from within her cowl's dark recesses, he had known. That knowledge had, much like a river rock tossed into a blaze, warmed, excited to greater levels of pressure with every word the woman spoke, until it could be contained no longer. His encounters with Kyla—seeing her abilities firsthand—opened his ears to the truth in her history lesson, a truth that he desperately needed, craved even. That need kept him in his seat, though his steel had received his grated nerves' raspy sentiments as he listened.

She could have done something. That thought had chiseled itself into his thoughts over the weeks. Why hadn't she done anything?

In some ways Masis blamed Kyla more than the Queen of the Night and her wights.

Saret's face floated in front of his eyes. Her eyes wide with fear. A voice half choked pleading for help. Puny fingers trying to pry an inhumanly strong grasp from her throat. How could anyone have seen that and not done something, anything to save such an innocent life?

Why hadn't I...she done more? Those words screamed in his mind.

He lunged for Kyla, a riposte of perfect form. The seax's tip found nothing but air. She had fled. Her being had snuffed out in an instant just as in his previous encounters.

Skinner leapt from his seat, swearing. His jump carried him as though something had detonated and the brisance had thrown him back.

"What in Manu's name!" Skinner held his hands up as though ready to fight. "What did you do to Malesanda?" His gaze went from the spot that Kyla had occupied to Masis and back again several times. "What did you do?

Masis straightened out of his lunge. He would never be able to explain what had just happened. With his seax's point hanging uselessly in the air, Masis' anger found no outlet. Eyes level with Skinner's, he just stared, his mouth moved but could not form the right words to explain.

Skinner's eyes narrowed and he shifted his body to face Masis completely. Words began to form on his lips.

Someone screamed.

Both their heads snapped toward the sound.

"Night wight!" a voice shrieked out in the darkness.

More screams and yells followed. The sound of scampering feet trampling grass came from all directions. Those remaining in the pavilion scrambled from their seats to sprint away in the hopes of hiding. Only Masis and Skinner stood their ground.

Masis could not see anything but a few darting figures in the dark. His quickening heartbeat and sour fear mired his senses, stymied his thoughts. He hated that fear. Here was his chance to exact some small portion of his revenge for his family, for all that he had lost, and he hesitated.

Masis... please, help me...

Saret's pitiful voice whimpered in his memories.

His fingers drummed along the wooden seax handle that he held tightly. He climbed over the bench. A hand dropped onto his shoulder and stopped his next step.

"Are you completely out of your mind?" asked Skinner, eyes wild. "That ain't no childhood friend out there, waiting to play patty-cake. This monster will kill you."

Masis stuttered in his step. His anger steadied him, as he shrugged off Skinner's hand. "Better death than what little life I have left."

He ran out into the night, the intermittent screams guiding him.