Her maneuver obviously surprised Ritworth, who hesitated just long enough for Edward to seize and hurl the chair.
The sorcerer dodged and swore as he finished the casting. Magic swept the desktop, an unfocused slash of light that flung swan shards to the floor. The chair grazed Ritworth’s shoulder, staggering him, then crashed against the window with enough force to shatter both. Splinters and chunks rained, thunking to the floor amid the higher pitched slam and rattle of glass. From outside, a dagger whizzed by Ritworth’s chin. The hilt bounced from Kelryn’s arm, then it clattered to the hallway floor. Suddenly filled with ice, the decanter exploded, flinging slivers and triangles of glass. Kelryn screamed. A guard’s answering shout floated from down the hallway, and feet pounded the wooden floor, headed in their direction.
Kelryn shrieked again and again, exploding into a mindless, berserk panic that seemed all the more crazed for her calm diversion a moment earlier.
Though he noticed the change, Prince Edward did not waste time assessing damage. The sorcerer had come for him, and any attempt to console or aid Kelryn would only place her in the line of fire. The sooner he dispatched Ritworth, the safer they all became. He charged the Iceman, fragments of swan, decanter, and window crunching beneath his boots.
The sorcerer caught his balance just in time to notice the danger rushing down on him. He twisted, casting, the need to dodge stealing accuracy. Ice sprayed from his fingertips and sparkled like dust motes in the room’s center, a clean miss. Hoping to prevent the harsh vocalizations that seemed necessary for the spell, Edward drove a punch into the sorcerer’s throat that doubled him over. Seizing Ritworth’s neck in one hand and a leg in the other, he hurled the sorcerer toward the wall.
Ritworth sailed through the air, grunting guttural noises that were not quite words. He flapped. A hand’s breadth from the wall, he swerved abruptly, flying toward the broken window at a speed that sent him crashing through the last clinging shards of glass and wood. Just outside, he collided with a man, and both collapsed in a heap to the dirt. Edward ran to the window. As he peered through, blood splashed his face from the battle outside. He recoiled, wiping it from his eyes. By the time he looked again, Ritworth was soaring for the sky. Nightfall crouched amid a puddle of broken glass and ruptured shutters, shards sparkling in his red-brown hair. He clutched a dagger flecked with the sorcerer’s blood.
"Sudian?" Surprised by the presence of his squire, Prince Edward reached through the opening to give assistance.
A man spoke from the doorway. "What’s going on?"
Edward turned his head, arm still extended. A hefty guard waited just outside, wearing dance hall red and black livery, hand tensed on the hilt of his short sword.
Kelryn cowered in a corner, using her dress as a shield and sobbing uncontrollably. Blood trickled from her leg.
"Did this man hurt you‘?" The guard indicated the prince by inclining his head.
Widened eyes locked on the window through which Ritworth had disappeared, Kelryn shook her head. Relaxing slightly, she managed speech. "Prince Edward of Alyndar? Dear Father, no. He saved my life." She managed a smile for Edward that made him feel warm from chin to knees, though the obvious pain in her tone bothered him. "A stranger attacked us. A sorcerer. He fled through the window."
Nightfall chose that moment to crawl into the room, ignoring Edward’s proffered hand.
The guard stiffened, drawing his sword. "Is this the one?"
Kelryn stiffened, swiveling to look. At the sight of Nightfall, she breathed a relieved sigh. "Oh, no. That’s the prince’s squire. The sorcerer is gone, I hope." Her own assessment helped compose her. She donned her dress methodically. Limping to the desk, she studied the chaos of glass on its surface, then leaned against it without daring to sit.
The guard sheathed his weapon, looking nonplussed. Apparently, it bothered him that so much damage could occur before he responded to screaming. "Oh. Well. We’ll search around outside. See if we can find him. What’d he look like?"
Kelryn gave a passable description; and, having seen the man twice now, Edward filled in the details. The guard exited, leaving Kelryn, Edward, and Nightfall alone.
Nightfall shook out his cloak, and a shower of glass fragments tumbled to the floor to join the others. He brushed more from his hair with flicks of his hand.
"There’s a broom in the closet,"’ Kelryn said. "Let me get it."
“No." Edward went to Kelryn’s side. "You’re wounded. Sudian can take care of sweeping.” He glanced at Nightfall to indicate that, although he had spoken casually, he meant the words as a direct order. Leaving his squire to tend to the glass, Edward hefted Kelryn, laying her gently on the bed. "Where does it hurt?"
Kelryn gathered the fabric of her dress to reveal her right thigh. The sight of the silk sliding along the fair skin gave Edward a pleasure that instantly channeled to guilt. He felt immoral enjoying the beauty of one in pain, especially when that injury came about because of an attack by his enemy. Soon, the dress lifted enough to reveal a blood-smeared, jagged gash in Kelryn’s flesh, surely caused by the destruction of the decanter by magic. Edward used a handkerchief to clean and tend the wound.
Nightfall busied himself sweeping up every crumb and flake, pausing only to retrieve his thrown dagger.
"I guess I won’t be dancing for a bit." Kelryn mused as Edward worked. "Did you know that man?"
"I’m afraid I did," Edward replied honestly as he probed the injury for remaining pieces of glass. He did not miss his squire’s sudden, warning glance. As promised, he would not reveal Nightfall’s natal talent. "You’re right about him being a sorcerer, and he wants to kill us for some reason. I’m sorry I got you involved."
"I’m involved?" All of Kelryn’s rabid terror returned in an instant. She curled into herself, eyes suddenly moist again.
Edward blamed his ministrations for her discomfort and suffered as much for inflicting it. “I’m afraid we can’t chance that you are." He met Kelryn’s hazel eyes, deep and dark in the half-light. "I want you to stay with us. We can protect you until we’ve got him safely in the hands of guardsmen."
Kelryn glanced at Nightfall, and a strange expression crossed her features briefly. She caught Edward’s hand, eyes skittish as a cornered deer’s. "I’d like that very much."
Though her grip felt cold and clammy with sweat, Prince Edward enjoyed the contact.
That night, Prince Edward arranged for them to sleep in shifts, but Nightfall did not bother to awaken the prince when his had ended. He could not sleep. In fact, the restlessness grew into an endless, driving need he could not identify to satisfy. He felt possessed by a thousand contrasting desires. Unidentifiable things in his core goaded him to slaughter Kelryn while the prince slept; others nearly as strong directed him to curl against her for comfort and warmth. Another part of him wanted to surrender to it all, to kill or abandon woman and prince and allow the oath-bond to have him. The same survival instinct that had kept him alive this long kicked in to fight the latter, but the others swirled through his mind in a dizzying chant. His mind told him to follow the course of necessity and patience, to work through the oath-bond and wait for the opportunity to serve his hatred without compromising Alyndar’s prince. Yet, Nightfall’s heart supported the opposite choice, the same that, as a child, had driven him to butcher the man who had killed his mother. The image of Kelryn blood-covered and screaming would not leave his thoughts, and the demon-force told him to dominate and torture, to let the death she deserved become the ultimate mercy.