Fate's Edge

grim. “The fight was too loud, too public, and there were too many witnesses. Adrianglia and the Dukedom are trying to avoid open war.”
    “He’s your cousin .”
    Cerise’s face jerked with pain. Tears swelled in her eyes. “And I love him,” she said. “But we have a direct order.”
    “But Kaldar!”
    “Kaldar is an agent of the Mirror,” William said. “He knew the risks.”
    “It’s an order, Audrey,” Cerise said. “Not a suggestion. If William and I stay here, the Mirror will decommission us when we return. We’ll be tried for treason. Our family will lose its asylum, and the Dukedom of Louisiana will have an excuse for an open conflict with Adrianglia. If Kaldar were here, he would tell you exactly what I am telling you now. We’re soldiers in this war. Soldiers don’t get to pick which orders they follow.”
    It sank in. They couldn’t help her. They wanted to, but they couldn’t.
    “When are you leaving?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
    William tied off the bandage. “Now.”

    THE wyvern was a distant speck in the blue sky. Audrey shielded her eyes with her hand and looked at it. It seemed like a dream. A painful, terrible dream.
    Kaldar, his eyes, his smile, the way he kissed her . . . She had lost him. She hadn’t realized how much she had wanted him until he was gone, and there was this gaping painful hole inside her. It hurt. She felt so hollow.
    They could’ve been so happy. Why, why did it have to end like this? Why couldn’t they have gotten away?
    Audrey closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up. She wanted to wake up, open her eyes, and see the wyvern’s cabin above her, then see him lean over her with that wicked smirk on his lips . . .
    Please. Please, I’ll do anything. Just let me wake up and let him be there. I’m begging you, God. Please.
    Next to her, Gaston cleared his throat.
    She wasn’t waking up. This was real.
    Audrey opened her eyes. Gaston’s gaze searched her face.
    “Are you leaving, too?” she asked.
    “The dispatch said ‘all agents.’ I am not an agent. Not yet.”
    “Why did she want him? Why trade me for him?”
    “Intelligence.” Gaston shrugged. “They’ll probably torture him . . . Eh, sorry. They must be on the way to Louisiana by now.”
    “No,” George said hoarsely.
    “George?” Audrey walked over and knelt by him.
    George opened his eyes. His face looked haggard and paler than usual. “They are keeping him in a ruin. There.” He raised his hand and pointed right. “Over that mountain. She has him tied to a chair. They are hooking him up to a machine to drain his blood. I have a bird on him.”
    “So he’s alive?” If Kaldar was alive, she would get him out of there. Whatever it took.
    “For now.”
    “How many people does she have?” Gaston asked.
    “Six.”
    Six Hounds, and they had Gaston, her, and two kids, one of whom was worn to his limit and the other only twelve years old.
    Audrey looked at Gaston. “How many can you take?”
    “One,” he said. “Maybe two.”
    She was no fighter. It only took one kick from Helena, and she was down. Audrey thought for a minute.
    She was no fighter, but she was a very good thief. And a very good grifter. The beginnings of a plan began to form in Audrey’s head. “Gaston, can you make sure the wyvern will be ready to take off in a hurry?”
    “I’m not leaving Kaldar there to rot,” Gaston snarled.
    “We are not leaving him.” Audrey held George’s hand. “Listen to me,” she said softly. “I don’t want you to drain yourself dry. If it comes to that, you drop that bird, do you understand me?”
    George nodded. “It will be fine,” he said. “It’s just far. It’s harder to maintain the connection over such a long distance. I just need to rest.”
    Audrey got to her feet. “How far are we from de Braose’s castle?”
    “It’s down the road,” Gaston said. “Half an hour.”
    “I need new clothes.” Audrey stared at her torn, bloody suit. “On the other hand, no. I’m perfect just as I am.”
     
    WHEN walking into the lair of the dragon after robbing his hoard, the least you could do is hold your head high, Audrey reflected, as the two veekings led her into the bailey of de Braose’s castle. Morell’s guard force had suffered losses. Every man she saw was either bruised, bloody, smeared with soot, or all three.
    A cloud of smoke spilled from the third-story window of the keep in a black, oily pillar. The sound of gunfire came from