Pressing relentlessly forward, he lunged again and pierced Ashe high in one shoulder. Ashe reeled back, then in a liquid twist, advanced to slash at Nikolas’s abdomen. With a catlike grace, Nikolas leaped back, and the attempted blow went wide.
“How many people, Ashe?” he asked. “How many of our people did you kill with small betrayals? What did they pay you? How much were our lives worth to you?”
Suddenly Ashe roared, “It wasn’t about how much your lives were worth! It was about saving mine! They were killing us—they’ve been killing us for centuries!—with no way home, no way out.”
Nikolas paused, chest heaving. “You could have deserted.”
Bitterly Ashe snapped, “With what money? How far could I have gotten? I struck a deal for amnesty and enough cash to start a new life and get out from under this godsforsaken doom the Dark Court has been under for centuries. All I had to do was feed them information until I could deliver you to them. Once the commander of the Dark Court force had fallen, I would be free. Then she showed up and found her way into this pile of shit, and you decided it would be a bright idea to make this your last fucking stand.”
“The Hounds waited to attack until you and Gawain had left with the lorry, didn’t they? That’s why you insisted on going.” After such an extremity of rage and movement, Nikolas held still and sounded eerily calm. “You told them we had come here. You turned this into our last fucking stand, Ashe. You did this.”
Down the hall, the other four men had appeared. They walked forward, staring, their expressions stricken and shocked. The pain and rage emanating from every one of the men was so raw and palpable Sophie could hardly bear it.
She felt like she shouldn’t be watching the confrontation. This was their betrayal and their pain, and they had the right to deal with it in privacy, but there was nowhere she could go to escape it. They blocked the way to the courtyard. All she could do was retreat into the cell with Robin. Sitting on the floor, she scooped him into her arms.
An odd, incongruent sound filled the hall as Ashe began to laugh. He staggered, shoulders shaking. The blood from his shoulder wound had spread down his side.
“I guess you’re right, Nik. I was too goddamn stupid to make a break then. The deal did hinge on your life, after all.”
“Why didn’t they attack the group at summer solstice?”
“Because they thought they were going to get you before then. I’d already met up with the others by the time we found out what had happened, and besides, you might have gotten away. I thought I might still meet the bargain if I could only let them into the house when everyone was sleeping—but everybody had so much to say to one another, some of you talked through the night, and then this morning, you got the bright idea to set watches. What a clusterfuck, hey?” He looked around at the circle of stony faces surrounding them. “None of it was personal.”
“Well, it felt pretty fucking personal to me,” Nikolas said. He sprang forward, and his sword flashed again.
This time it was a direct hit to Ashe’s heart. Ashe didn’t try to dodge or parry. Instead, he let his arms fall to his side and accepted the blow. Sophie covered her head with a hand. The body fell to the floor with an audible thump.
Afterward, heavy silence descended in the hall.
Rhys said thickly, “I suspected someone was working with the Light Court. Nik, I’m sorry, I thought it was you.”
“And I thought it was you. You asked enough questions, I thought you were pumping me for information, and you killed the Hound I wanted to interrogate. I didn’t connect that the only one besides Gawain who wasn’t present for the attack was Ashe until he grabbed Sophie.” Nikolas sounded so soul weary Sophie’s eyes dampened. “He was right about one thing. Gods, what a clusterfuck.”
While the men talked, Robin tugged on Sophie’s sweater. Wiping her eyes, she looked at the puck. Ooh-ooh, he mouthed. He slapped the floor by her thigh. Then he slapped it again, and again, so insistently it caught her attention.
Here, Robin said telepathically. Down here.
Frowning, she concentrated. Robin was right. The massive shift was directly down below. This close, it felt bigger than ever.
For the first time, she focused on the floor of the cell. Part of it was wooden. She ran her fingers along one side while she studied the square. There were hinges.
A pair of boots appeared in the corner of her vision. She looked up as Nikolas knelt beside her. His expression was bitter but composed, until he looked down at her sweater.
Then his eyes blazed, and he grabbed hold of her with tense care. “Goddamn it, Sophie! Why didn’t you say something?”
“About what?”
Her gaze followed the direction of his, down to her shirtfront. Okay, that looked pretty bad. Blood had soaked into her sweater, and it had run down her side. She looked as awful as Ashe had.
Making a face, she told him, “I forgot about it. It looks worse than it is. He caught me on the collarbone. Nik, there’s a trapdoor.”
“Who the fuck cares?” he said. His touch was much more gentle than his tone, as he eased the collar of her sweater aside so he could inspect the wound. He pressed lightly against her skin near the long cut.
“Ouch! Stop that!” She tried to shrink away from him.
“Goddammit,” he growled. “Hold still.”
Something about the way he said that told her he was barely holding on to his self-control. She forced herself to sit still, although she couldn’t help from bitching about it.
“You will never learn how to ask politely, will you?” she muttered. “How hard is it to say, ‘Will you please hold still a moment, Sophie?’ Well, let me tell you, it’s not hard, because I just said it.”
“He cut you to the bone, you stupid woman,” Nikolas snapped.
She opened her eyes wide. “Why are you calling me stupid, like that was my fault?”
She had seen Nikolas angry before, but this time his rage seemed transcendent. “You hit him with a telekinesis spell while he held a knife to your throat!”
His taut expression was so full of rage and pain and residual fear she paused and tried to swallow the snarky response that rose to her lips.
Setting her hand gently to the side of his furious, dangerous face, she said in a soft voice, “Well, yes. Yes, I did. I’m so sorry I did something to get myself out of a bad situation instead of waiting for you or one of the other menfolk to rescue me. Next time I’ll go sit in a tower and learn how to knit, mm-kay?”
So… swallowing the snark hadn’t exactly been a success. As they stared at each other, she watched a muscle tic in the side of his jaw, and she almost, very nearly, yes indeed came so close to feeling bad about that.
Cupping her hand to his cheek, he placed the flat of his palm over her injured collarbone, gathered his Power, and spoke in his Celtic-sounding language. Warmth spread over the area, and she could feel the torn flesh knitting together. It was not an altogether comfortable sensation, but that was such a small price to pay for the healing, she gritted her teeth and stuck with it.
When he had finished, he pressed a kiss to her fingers and whispered, “You still make me. So. Crazy.”
She loved him so much it twisted her up inside. Stroking his lips with her thumb, she smiled as she whispered back, “And you’re still very much an asshole.” She shifted to lean her forehead against his. I’m so sorry about Ashe.