Shadow’s Lure by Jon Sprunk

Her knife connected with his breastbone and slid along his ribs. Without so much as a gasp, Fenrik grabbed her by the neck with one hand and slammed her against the wall. The back of her head struck stone, and white spots filled her vision. A balled fist rose above her. She watched it out of the corner of a teary eye. She almost welcomed it. When it fell, the pain would end. But some part of her refused to surrender. Then Caim’s words tumbled through the drifting confines of her mind.
    When you’re faced with danger , don’t wait for an opening . Strike hard and fast , because you won’t get a second chance .
    Josey wrapped the fingers of both hands around the hilt of her knife. As the fist reached its apogee, tears filled her eyes. I’m sorry, Fenrik .
    With a hard upward thrust, the knife’s point pierced through the bottom of Fenrik’s jaw and up through his mouth. Still, his grip on her throat did not slacken. Her eyes lost their focus as the room began to spin.
    Then, the world tilted as Fenrik’s hand was jerked away. The knife clattered on the floor, but Josey only cared about the fresh air filling her lungs. Her sight cleared, and she saw Fenrik sprawled on the floor, her bodyguards hacking at him. With horrifying slowness, he crawled across the floor, even as the soldiers continued their brutal assault on his body, until he reached the wall.
    Where is the blood ? The thought battered her brain. He’s supposed to bleed when they cut him .
    Light filled the bedroom, and Josey sobbed in relief at the sight of Captain Drathan, the leader of her Imperial Guard, arriving at the head of more soldiers.
    “To the empress!”
    But Fenrik had reached the wall. Like a spider, he scuttled up the stones to the window and thrust open the shutters. Captain Drathan lunged, but he was too late. Fenrik leapt.
    Staring at the empty windowsill, Josey fell back against the wall. Her hands shook as she folded them across her chest. A bitter taste curdled on her tongue.
    “Gone.” Captain Drathan turned toward her, his features constricted in a tight scowl. “Are you hurt, Majesty?”
    Josey shook her head, but could not find her voice. She pointed to the bed. One of the guardsmen lifted the ruffled skirt. Josey’s neck felt like a block of wood as she turned her head. With a heave, the soldier pulled a long, spindly shape from under the bed. It was Fenrik, his features frozen in death, blood dribbling from his throat.
    Josey shook her head as a shudder took hold of her. Then she was on her hands and knees heaving up the remains of her supper. She closed her eyes, but could not block out the sight of his pale face.

CHAPTER SIX
     
    T he snow let up as Caim limped along the narrow country lane after his guide. The sun was in its last throes, but there was enough daylight to make another mile or two.
    They had been marching for the better part of three candlemarks. His injured leg was stiff; his back protested every step with sharp twinges. His guide hadn’t spoken since they left the roadhouse, but he kept a manageable pace. Deep ruts carved the road’s frozen mud. A blanket of white covered the steppes, broken by stands of pine and spruce and occasional outcrops of bare gray rock. The deepening azure sky seemed to stretch forever, marred only by a handful of wispy clouds along the horizon. Almost invisible in the sea of blue, a black-winged bird soared overhead.
    The old man turned off the road to cut across the open countryside. Caim eyed the snow for a moment and then followed. The ground beneath the thin crust was uneven, forcing him to slow his pace. They walked along the bottom of a long depression that Caim realized was an old riverbed. It wound northwest through the steppe. Caim was so absorbed minding his footing he almost walked past his guide when the old man stopped by a line of pine trees. In a clearing beyond their laden branches, a herd of caribou passed by. They were graceful creatures even in the deep snow,