Salvage ~ V1: Nuts and Bolts (Steampunk/ Gaslamp Romantasy ~ F/M, M/M)

Chapter 17: That Is How I Handle It

Kelvaran leaned against the wall near the door watching this scene unfold.

These siblings had put on a good show. The more idiotic members of the court should be convinced that Kazia wasn't colluding with her brother.

Abrizhen glared at him and muttered "traitor" under his breath as he rushed through the door, but Kelvaran ignored him.

His eyes were on Kazia.

She stared after Abrizhen until he disappeared inside, then turned and stormed across the park.

Kelvaran expected that she would run to Amelys, but when she bypassed the Alchemists' tower and continued down the bailey, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

He followed, quickly catching up, but hanging some distance behind. Once through the gate and around the corner of the outer bailey, he could guess where she was going.

When he reached the garden gate, he found it slightly ajar, but he didn't enter. Standing in the shadow of the surrounding shrubbery, he watched Kazia through the iron bars.

Under the pergola, she took a leather pouch from a drawer, and a large wine bottle from a cabinet. She pulled the cork on the bottle and took a long drink from it. Then she carried both items to the nearest hay bale, set the bottle down at the foot of the bale, and upended the leather pouch before tossing it aside.

Kelvaran heard a clanking of metal objects hit the ground.

Kazia knelt beside the pouch, then suddenly jumped up, and a number of small knives flew from her hands to the hay bale across the lawn. A perfect circle of iron hilts appeared there, blades embedded in the densely packed hay.

Kelvaran started slightly, but he kept still and continued watching as Kazia retrieved these knives with a leisurely, casual attitude, then flung them again at the other hay bale, repeating the feat.

Again she strolled across, picked up the bottle and drank deeply from it, then collected her knives.

Back and forth, she continued for some time, the knives flying with a speed that could barely be seen, forming different patterns each time with controlled precision.

As she took her fifth or sixth drink from the bottle, Kelvaran began to back away as quietly as possible.

If this was what Kazia got up to out here, he would need to ask Amelys about it. He had already made his argument that Kazia was a potential assassin. How could Amelys possibly still disagree? She must already know about this, it was her garden after all.

Kazia turned her face toward him again, and her expression sent a chill through him. Her eyes were dead and cold, but her lips curled into a sinister smile. She looked as if she could skin an enemy for fun.

She tossed the knives slowly, one at a time. They landed precisely next to one another in a cluster, each ringing out a muted little clink as it scraped past another blade.

Kelvaran held his breath, every muscle tightening in anticipation. Her skill was terrifying.

The last knife thrown, however, bounced off the hilts of the others and landed on the ground.

Kazia frowned in consternation, then suddenly rushed forward and threw herself down to pick it up. Kneeling there, she stabbed the knife into the hay bale.

After a pause, she drew it out and stabbed it in again.

A long, low-pitched wail erupted from her throat, and in a mad frenzy she began stabbing the hay over and over.

A widening hole grew in the hay bale as she stabbed and stabbed, shredded bits of straw flying out, collecting in her lap, until with one final scream she left the knife in the hay and knelt, sobbing, on the ground.