The Pirate's Lady - By Julia Knight Page 0,95

scabbards, of mail armor. A trio of guards passed, and then, beyond any expectation, Skrymir appeared. He was stripped to his breeches, in the midst of turning to someone behind, but he caught Holden’s eye. Nothing in his face changed, nothing to give away that Holden was there, but he said something over his shoulder in a brutal language Holden didn’t understand. He’d heard it before though—Gan, and only two people he knew spoke it.

Then Josie came into view and slid her gaze his way. She winked at him and mouthed, “Quietly. Ready?” Before Holden could even nod his acceptance, she’d kicked out, taking a guard on the knee and by surprise. Half a heartbeat later Skrymir brought his double fists down on the head of the guard in front of him, sending the man sprawling and unconscious.

Another three guards appeared from behind Josie, pistols drawn and ready to club her down or shoot her. Until Holden pulled himself together and leaped out, sword at the ready. They wavered for a moment, one of them staring behind as, from the sound of it, Skrymir patiently pulled someone into small bits. Their hesitation, no matter how brief, was their undoing. Tallia smacked one on the back of the head with the butt of the pistol and Holden, grinning like he was out of his mind, took one through the throat with his sword. The guard fell to the ground with a gurgle, just as Josie took out the third.

“I love a good diversion,” Skrymir said and clapped Holden on the shoulder, hard enough that Holden almost fell to his knees.

Holden’s breath came in great gasps—he’d had no chance for fear, only heart-racing thrill. The sword trembled in his hand, because the fear came now instead, only it was different. Less paralyzing, accentuating the burst of his blood.

Josie and Tallia embraced and exchanged a few quiet words that Holden didn’t catch. He didn’t need to. The way they were just confirmed what Tallia had said was true—Josie had sent her to leave a message for Van. If that was true, he couldn’t deny it anymore. Ilsa wasn’t brainwashed, or kidnapped or anything else. It had been Ilsa who had betrayed Van Gast and Josie, got them in these cells. His wife.

His gaze traced the patterns on the floor—order, there was comfort in order, in the patterns. He could find no comfort there, not for this, not today. His wife had done this, because of one stupid mistake of his. That he’d believed a lie because he wanted to, because he’d dreamed of freedom too long and wanted it too much.

“Holden?” The soft voice was Tallia’s, penetrating the gloom of his thoughts. “Holden, we can’t stay here. We have to go, quick.”

“Go where?” There was more he wanted to ask—Sisters? How could they be sisters?—but the questions tangled over each other and stayed unsaid.

Skrymir nodded at the two women, and they went on, back toward the cells, sneaky and quiet as they could be with their bells, looking around corners, into alcoves. It took a moment for Holden to recognize Haban as he sank, gray and gaunt, against a wall.

“They bonded Van,” Skrymir said. Holden only now noticed the wound to his shoulder, leaking blood and the dressing half off, but Skrymir seemed to shrug it off. Inhuman. Holden had thought it of him before. “I don’t know exactly what that bastard Rillen’s planning, but he’s going to use Van to do it. Josie’s, well, Josie’s mad bent on getting Van back.”

She would be—she’d been through worse, much worse, to try to save Van Gast before. Been through all Holden could put her through. “Where is he?”

“Still in the cells when we left.”

A formless howl reverberated along the corridor, a sound of pain and fear that speared Holden where he stood. He knew that sound, and it curdled all the thrill in his stomach.

“You think we can get in?”

“No. But she’s going to try anyway.”

“Wait—just make them wait. Did Rillen say anything about what he planned?”

Skrymir tried a shrug and winced at the movement. “He wants Van to shoot someone who’s on his way here. We were a plant—racks trying to steal what’s in the strong room, which is right enough, we were. Someone would come because of it. Rillen was going to let us ‘escape,’ no doubt supposedly with the loot, but I suspect a bullet in the back of the head was all we’d get, somewhere nice and quiet. We’re in

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