Queen of the Night (The Revanche Cycle Book 4) by Craig Schaefer Read Free Book Online

maddened pink eyes squinting. She brought up the blade, gripping it with both hands, and punched it through his chest. He hung there, impaled by the cold steel, a befuddled look on his face as his big hands grabbed at the air, twitching. Then he slid free, thumping to the floor, dead.
    With two quick hacks of the cleaver, Sykes silenced the last of his fallen foes. Lydda sauntered up to stand at his side. Renata, panting, lowered her blood-streaked sword and reached down to pull Achille to his feet. The boy winced and rubbed at his bruised face, bowing his head and spitting out a broken tooth.
    A hush fell over the roadhouse. A handful of patrons—merchants and traveling craftsmen who had stopped in for a bit of rest and a good meal—huddled under tables and cast horrified stares at the carnage. One of the proprietors, a prim woman in a calico dress, stood with her white-knuckled hands clasped before her and her jaw hanging open.
    “We’re…very sorry about that,” Renata said as she wiped down her blade. Stray droplets of blood flicked across the common table, landing in somebody’s soup. “We’ll, um…we’ll help clean up.”
    “You. Need. To leave,” the proprietor said, forcing out each breathless word. “Now.”
    Gallo groaned, one hand pressed to his back as he hobbled over to join Renata. “C’mon, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”
    “I’m really sorry,” Renata said.
    The proprietor flung up her hand, pointing at the door. “Out. Now .”
    Lydda snorted and shouldered her crossbow. “We were just minding our business. They started it. Hmm, think we left a couple of ’em alive. When they wake up, tell ’em to pay our bill.”
    That was when the proprietor started shrieking. Renata hustled her followers out the door, her head ducked low, mouthing apologies all the way.
    *     *     *
    Crickets trilled in the dark, and a canopy of stars shimmered in a crisp sky over the merchant road. The shadows of trees rose up on either side, skeletal limbs stripped bare by the autumn cold. The five travelers walked in a ragged line, bound for the north.
    “At least we know there’s still a bounty on my head,” Renata said. “That’s good news.”
    Sykes squinted at her. “How’s that good news?”
    “The only reason the Grimaldi family wanted me in the first place was to put pressure on Felix. So if Aita’s still after me, that must mean Felix is alive.”
    “Still be easier just to sell you to her,” Sykes grumbled. Lydda clouted him across the shoulder and glared.
    “Think so?” Gallo asked. “You’d still have to fight every rival bounty hunter and claim jumper from here to Aita’s front door. And you know my money’s good. Aita might just kill you, too, and cut her losses.”
    “She ain’t her father, true,” Lydda said with an agreeable nod. “That Basilio, he ran Mirenze with an iron fist. A mouse didn’t squeak without begging his permission first. Last I heard, she’s losin’ her grip. Still ain’t nobody I wanna go toe-to-toe with, mind you.”
    Renata stared into the distance. “Hopefully we won’t have to. Our first priority is finding Felix. He can tell us what’s going on, and then we can make a plan.”
    “Needle in a haystack, assuming he’s even still in town,” Sykes said. “With the Mirenze guard and Aita’s men all looking to fit him for a noose? He’d be an idiot to stick around.”
    “He’s still there,” Renata said. “He won’t run. He’ll fight. Any way he can.”
    Achille looked up at her, brow furrowed. “How do you know?”
    “Because I know my Felix.”
    “So you’re both crazy,” Sykes said. “If your money runs out, we’re still switching sides.”
    After an hour of walking in companionable silence, light shimmered farther up the road. A wagon, rocking on unsteady wheels, with an iron lantern on a pole to light the horses’ way. Renata and the others moved to one side, keeping their hands empty but their weapons at