Drawn Blades by Kelly McCullough Read Free Book Online

mixed her pleasure with her work, though she did both with rare verve and focus.
    I was still trying to sort out what I ought to believe about those mad air-starved moments in the fire, when a new shape appeared where Siri’s might once have been. This one was big and broad, moving like a crippled bear, and all too familiar—my whatsis come calling again. Fire rode its back and shoulders, a burning cloak that haloed the beast and consumed it, though not quick enough by half.
    It staggered as it reached the line that divided fire from freedom and went to its knees. I struck then—though I hadn’t known I had it in me till I moved—rolling up onto my own knees and driving both swords deep into the monster’s chest. It reared back, teetering on the edge of balance. I followed, using its motion to lever myself to my feet. Letting go my hilts, I took a long step back. Then I pivoted and kicked with all the strength I had left, striking the paired pommels of my blades and driving them hilt deep into charring flesh.
    Before I could move to recover my swords, the whatsis staggered back out of easy reach, though whether it was dead at that point or simply overbalanced I couldn’t say. It flailed its great paws for one brief instant, then went over backward, smashing into and through the burning and weakened roof with a tremendous crash and another eruption of flame. I had one moment of clarity to curse myself for letting it take my swords with it and to wonder how long I would have to wait for the fires to cool so that I could retrieve them. Then the sky tilted up and away from me, taking the world with it.
    *   *   *
    “Old fool.” It was Faran’s voice sounding angry and worried and oh-so-very-far away as she spoke quietly. “What were you thinking?”
    My laugh turned into a hacking cough as I opened one eye. My apprentice was hovering just above me, her face dark and hidden by her cowl, with the stars behind her. “Not much, actually, my young monster,” I replied, or husked, really—speaking hurt. “I was too busy simply surviving.”
    I took a mental inventory of my condition and, despite a host of places both hot and tender, I found that I felt better than I had any right to. I could sense Triss hunkered somewhere down deep in my shadow, though I couldn’t tell whether he was sleeping still or unconscious. I decided not to try to wake him. Given the element of fire, he would need more recovery time than I did.
    “What time is it?” I asked. “And where am I?”
    “A bit after midnight,” answered Faran. “The quarter hour just chimed. And you’re atop a water tank about a hundred feet from where I found you. I didn’t want to move you so far given the condition you were in, but I had to get you away from the Crown Elite and their damned stone dogs before one of them decided you were close enough to dead that they could safely get away with pushing you the rest of the way over the line.”
    “Elite?” I blinked my other eye open to try to get a better view of Faran’s face, but shadow and more than shadow continued to hide her expression. “I think the dance moved on without me there. What do the Elite have to do with anything?”
    “Did you hit your head along with all the burns?” Faran asked, her voice going sharp and acerbic. “Who did you think was going to show up to investigate when a damned great magical fire consumed a building no one knew was there? Especially when the famous Aral Kingslayer—assassin and former lover of the new queen—was found unconscious on the roof right at the edge of the circle that bound the flames to that one building? The royal hunt?”
    “Point, though I’d have expected Captain Fei’s people to get here first.”
    “The guards’ Silent Branch? They did, which is the main reason you’re alive. Fei herself sent me a whisper as to where to find you, and to come double quick, too. Royal pardon or no, the Elite still hate you far more for the two bad