Broken Dove by Kristen Ashley
“Did it occur to you that, seeing as I didn’t run, I was your assistance?” I shot back.
His mouth clamped shut and a muscle ticked up his jaw and into his cheek.
I took that as “no.” I also decided to take it as “thank you for helping me defeat the bad guys” when he jerked away from me and stormed into the bedroom.
I decided the bedroom was a much better place to be than amongst the grisly mess in the sitting room, so I followed him.
When I did, I saw he was tugging on a velvet cord with a thick tassel at the end and he didn’t do it once. I counted eleven times before he scowled at me and stormed back into the sitting room.
I really didn’t want to go back there, but after what happened, I also really didn’t want to be far away from Apollo and his sword. So I followed him back to see him bent over one of the guys, the unconscious one, his fist in the guy’s hair holding his head up.
“Unconscious,” he clipped. “Useless,” he ground out as he threw the guy’s head back and it thumped against the floor.
I put a hand to my belly, the gruesome tableau hitting me full on as Apollo stormed to one of the two dead bodies. He bent and started to go through the man’s pockets.
“What are you doing?” I asked, deciding on focusing on him so I didn’t focus on anything that might make me hurl.
His gaze cut to me and he didn’t answer my question.
No.
Instead he declared, “Four men in this room. Four weapons. And you.”
“Apollo—”
“You could have been hurt.”
Okay, I had to admit, it was sweet he was worried about me.
So I decided against throwing more attitude and whispered, “I wasn’t.”
“You could have been killed,” he bit out, his handsome face still suffused with rage.
I swallowed because after sitting room swordfights, it hit ridiculously late that that was what was causing his reaction.
“I wasn’t, baby,” I said gently.
He pierced me with a glower then went back to searching the man’s pockets, muttering grouchily to himself, “She seduces me with this word. She also thinks she can use it to get away with madness.”
It was then I decided quiet was in order so I gave him that.
He stopped searching the one dead body and was moving to the other when a knock came at the door.
He went there, unlocked it, yanked it open and I got one look at the maid outside, who got one look into the room and her face paled in a way I feared she’d pass out.
Luckily, Apollo started issuing orders so her eyes, and attention, shot to him.
“Send someone for the constable immediately. And send a man to the room with ropes. One of them is still alive and I want him bound. And find these men’s horses. If they have possessions, I want them in this room without delay.”
She visibly gulped, nodded and ran away.
I didn’t blame her.
Apollo slammed the door and moved to the other body. I kept my silence as he searched his pockets then ran his hands along the inside of his cloak.
I watched his body suddenly still and then he straightened to his feet, his head bent, his fingers engaged with unfolding a piece of paper.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Bloody code,” he bit out, sounding frustrated.
“Can I see it?” I queried and his gaze sliced to me.
“You can battle foes and decipher code?” he asked wryly.
I decided to let that slide and made a mental note that Apollo got grumpy after a swordfight.
“Can I just see it, honey?” I requested softly.
He gave me an annoyed look but he finally stormed to me, his cape wafting out behind him and we’ll just say, grumpy Apollo after a swordfight was still hot.
When he got to me, he didn’t hand me the note. He moved to my side and held it up so we could both look.
I stared down at the paper. It said:
C, E at K – Tr, Br, L, Le, C, Da, Z, Fe, Fah, Te
U, I at TL, V – Be, Gr, St
Yep. Code.
Crap.
I was handy with word puzzles, what with having a drug dealer husband, zero friends or family because my husband was a drug dealer and no one liked to hang with drug dealers (or their wives), no job because my drug dealer husband thought it reflected poorly on his ability to give me a good life through dealing drugs, so I had to find some way to spend my time and I wasn’t a fan of soap operas.
But this wasn’t like a crossword, hangman, find-a-word or any of the puzzles I was used to solving.
Still, I kept staring at it, screwing up my eyes and trying to make the letters speak to me.
I continued to do so when a knock came at the door, Apollo grunted, “Come!” and I heard the door open. Apollo then commanded, “This one. Tie him up. Has the constable been called?”
“Yes, sir, and we’re searching for the horses,” a man’s voice replied.
“Good,” Apollo muttered but he sounded distracted and I knew the note had his attention again.
But as all this went on, somehow, some of the letters seemed to make sense to me, but mostly because they couldn’t be a coincidence.
“I think…” I began but trailed off.
“What?” Apollo asked.
“I think…” I repeated but said no more.
“Madeleine, what?” Apollo clipped, impatient.
“I, well, could this mean…?” I lifted a hand to point at the note, the tip of my finger sliding under the bottom line. “Ulfr, Ilsa at Treeburn Lodge, Vasterhague. And then the three other groups of letters. I don’t know…” I looked at the men on the floor then up at Apollo. “Maybe initials of first or last names of our attackers?”
He held my eyes, his jaw hard, then his gaze went back to the note.
Mine did too and they did this with me muttering, “But the top line. I don’t—”
I stopped talking abruptly and it felt like a cold hand squeezed my heart when it jumped out at me.
I knew Apollo got it at the same time, because he barked, “Leave him! Saddle our horses, now!”
“Sir?” the employee who was tying up the now groaning man on the floor asked.
“Horses. Immediately,” Apollo commanded and when the man didn’t move, he roared, “Now!”
The man jumped up and ran from the room.
My heart was now tripping over itself as Apollo grabbed my hand and yanked me into the bedroom.
“But…I don’t have a saddle,” I stupidly told his back.
He bent to pick up his scabbard from where I dropped it on the floor and let me go to buckle it on, stating, “It’s in the back of the sleigh.”
Oh.
Well then.
Still.
I felt frustration build, all of it concentrating in my neck, making it tight because, seriously, this world was awesome but there were times when cellphones would come in handy.
Like, big time, now.
“You need to go without me,” I whispered.
“I’ll not leave you unprotected,” he said, moving to his trunk and throwing it open.
That was very sweet. But it also wasn’t very smart.
“Honey, you’ll make better time if—”
He turned to me and the look on his face made me shut up.
“Fast, Madeleine, dress warm. Very warm.”
I stared into his eyes a brief moment before I nodded and dashed to my trunks.
And this was because, if I was right about the bottom line, then the top one meant Christophe, Élan at Karsvall.
And ten men were going.
I got my hat, my gloves and wasted precious time I didn’t know I’d be glad for later toeing off my boots in order to exchange my thin, eveningwear wool tights for thicker, warmer wool tights. I pulled my boots back on and barely straightened when Apollo had my hand and he was dragging me to the door.
But he halted at the man on the floor who had his back rest
Apollo let me go to kneel beside him.
“Did they send ten men for my children?” he demanded to know.
The bad guy blinked at him.
Then he smiled.
It wasn’t verbal. But it was an answer.
My heart thumped hard and it hurt.
I held my breath as Apollo straightened, unsheathed his sword, flipped it so the blade was held in his gloved hand, and he whacked the guy across his cheek with the handle.
Blood flew from his mouth as his head lolled on his neck.
Out again.
I didn’t get a chance to take in this latest ghastliness.
Apollo had my hand and we were away.
* * * * *
We rode hard the rest of the night and all the next day.
Five times, we stopped to exchange horses. With Apollo’s commanding presence and heavy bag of coins, this took us less than five minutes each time. He only spent another thirty seconds the first change of horses to order Torment and Anguish sent to Karsvall.
And he asked only twice when we stopped if I needed food.
Both times, I shook my head. Both times he got that answer, Apollo’s eyes held relief. And both times, without further delay, we were again off. He didn’t waste time asking after that. He knew my answer.
I was not hungry.
I was also not tired.
I was terrified.
So terrified, my mind was gripped with it so the long ride, the cold, the landscape, the villages flashing by, the horse straining under me, the pounding of my bones, none of it penetrated.
None of it.
Apollo had his guys at his house and I’d seen Laures in action in the games so I knew they knew what they were doing.
But those three men laid in wait for us. If the ones that were sent for Christophe and Élan were good at being sneaky…
I didn’t let my mind go there. It kept trying to go there but I kept shutting it down. We would deal with what we found when we found it.
We just needed to get there to find whatever there was to find.
So I bent over my horse and did my best to keep her at Apollo’s heels, thanking God Hans was really good at teaching me how to ride a horse and I’d had four months’ practice.
I knew Apollo was terrified too. But hot-guy-badass-from-another-world terror manifested itself through fury. The kind of fury that wafted off him in a way that it seemed even the breeze was too scared of him to show up.
But I kept on his heels as dusk of the next day moved into a dark evening and we finally galloped through the village where I’d spent the night at The Swan.
The village outside Karsvall.
Ten minutes later, we galloped up a pine edged lane and I saw it.
Illumination, and it wasn’t the moon.
We came out into a clearing and Apollo didn’t slow so I didn’t either. But I did see that torches and barrels of fire were all around, lighting the space. There were lots of horses. Lots of sleighs. Lots of men. And also a big house I didn’t take in but I did take in the fact that a light was burning in every window.
This was not a good sign.
Apollo reined in and I did the same beside him at the front door.
And I saw that there were bodies lined up in the blood spattered snow.
My eyes frantically slid over them, and although a couple of them were face down, none of them were faces I knew.
I had no time to feel this relief. Suddenly I was yanked from my saddle.
Apollo had his hands on my waist and he was tugging me down. When he had me on my feet, he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the house, barking, “My children?”
“They’re fine, Lo.” I heard Achilles say. “They’re in Élan’s room—”
He said no more as Apollo pushed through him and kept dragging me behind him. I had half a mind to at least aim a relieved smile at Achilles as Apollo pulled us by but I had to keep up and watch my footing so I had no shot.
It was a good plan because, in no time at all, I was going up stairs.
Then down a hall.
Then I was being hauled into a bright room, and with his hand firm in mine jerking me into his side, I came to a halt, lifted my eyes and caught sight of the children in the bed.
My systems shut down instantly.
All I could do was see.
A boy, I knew he was eight, almost nine. A girl I knew who was six.
They were all Apollo, the girl a female version, a very cute, very pretty female version, but they both were all him. No red hair. No brown eyes. No freckles.
Dark thick hair. Olive toned skin.
Jade eyes.
They were beautiful.
Beautiful.
My heart started bleeding.
The boy was in bed with the girl, holding her close, and she was trembling so badly, she shook her brother and I could see the tassels on the canopy on her bed shaking as well.
She was petrified, her face saturated with it.
There was no blood. No visible injuries.
But one of them had gotten to her.
I felt this realization hit Apollo as his rage permeated the room.
The girl whispered a trembling, “Papa.”
At the sound of her little scared voice, it happened.
I was suddenly on fire. Every inch of my skin blistering. My eyes burning. My brain boiling.
Without a thought, not even knowing what I intended to do, I tore my hand from Apollo’s and raced out of the room, down the hall, the stairs and out the opened front door, my heavy cloak billowing behind me.
I stopped in the snow, my cloak flying forward to wrap around me, and I counted.
Eight bodies.
I turned instantly to the man standing closest to me.
Gaston.
I stomped to him, wrapped my fist in his sweater and snapped, “Where are the other two?”
“Maddie—”
I beat his sweater into his chest, got up on my toes and screeched, “Where are the other two?”
His fingers began to curl on my biceps and he started, “Maybe we should—”
I pulled from him, moved blindly away and saw it.
Tracks and drag marks in the snow leading along the front of the house and around the corner.
I sprinted that way, following the tracks. I raced down the side of the house, into the back garden, past a pretty gazebo, a large greenhouse and into the forest beyond where I saw two torches lighting the outside of a small outbuilding.
Without hesitation, I ran to it and stormed in.
There was a man hanging by his hands from a hook. He was shirtless and bleeding profusely from a variety of wounds as well as a serious pummeling he took to his face.
Hans and Remi were standing close to him.
There was another man, also shirtless and bleeding, tied to a chair in the center of the space.
Derrik was standing behind him.
Laures was working him.
When I arrived, all the men looked to me in surprise and they kept their eyes on me when I stomped straight to the man in the chair, shoving past Laures and I bent, getting right in his face.
“What did you do to her?” I shrieked.
A hand came to rest on my shoulder and I heard Remi whisper, “Maddie.”
I shrugged it off and wrapped my gloved hand under the man’s jaw and shoved it back.
He grunted but I dropped my face back to his and screamed, “She’s just a little girl!” I got closer, my fingers curling deep into his flesh. “You monster! What did you do to her?”
“Mad—” Remi tried again but I whirled and shot past him.
My hand darting out, I nabbed the knife on Laures’ belt.
“Bloody hell.” I heard Hans mutter but I didn’t hesitate.
No, I didn’t.
I didn’t hesitate or think.
I was fucking focused.
I turned back to the man in the chair, held the point of the knife to the hinge of his jaw and demanded, “Who sent you?”
The man’s eyes held mine and he said nothing.
I pressed the tip into his flesh, he pushed back against the chair and I screeched, “Who sent you?”
He again said nothing.
Controlled by emotion, still burning inside and out, I took the knife from his jaw and sunk it violently into the flesh of his shoulder.
He let out a pained grunt that didn’t register on me.
I just pulled the knife out to three simultaneous masculine “bloody hells” and one “by the gods” and returned it to his jaw.
“Who sent you?”
Then suddenly I wasn’t in his face anymore, neither did I have the knife.
I was, instead, pressed back deep into Apollo’s body with his arm around my belly.
And then, with Apollo, we leaned forward as he flashed the knife out.
And that was when I watched the gaping, red gash across the man’s throat slither open, blood pouring down his chest. He sucked in a breath, got zero air and an instant later, found his death with surprise in his eyes.
I had no reaction to this. I also had no time to have a reaction.
Without hesitation, Apollo turned both of us and we were across the room like a shot. He held me to his front as he held the knife to the man hanging on the hook’s throat.
“Now you know I will not waver,” he growled. “Who sent you?”
The man was staring with big eyes at the freshly dead man in the chair but when Apollo pressed the knife to his throat, his eyes shot to him.
And I watched them grow cold.
“The queen is just,” he announced bizarrely.
“The queen is not here,” Apollo returned.
“She’ll not be best pleased, you dispense justice in your gardener’s shack,” he stated and I finally looked around.
Yep. We were in a gardener’s shack.
I turned my head, tipped it back and aimed my eyes at Apollo’s stony face. “Honey, I bet I can make him to talk with those hedge clippers.” I threw a hand toward the man’s crotch. “He won’t be needing that in prison.”
Apollo spared me a glance as I heard Laures chuckle but just as quickly as he looked at me, he looked back to the man.