Page 26 of The Thief’s Lord (Catkin Trilogy #3)

“I have my methods.” I gestured to Alan and Shade, raising my voice so all would hear.

“I have brought before me the rogue called Shade. The Master of the Night Blade Guild located in Rimefrost. Dorset, formerly of the Night Blade identifies him, and ordinarily I would speak with him in private and give him time to confess. Time is of the essence, however. The truth will out this day. One way or another. I call on High Mage Alan Carwick of the White Tower to administer a dose of Lily Veras.”

Whispers rippled through the crowds. The nobles stared in shock, no doubt recognizing the weight of the moment.

Alan himself looked grim. Fishing in his pouch, he pulled out a black bottle that glinted like obsidian in the pale sunlight.

This was the Truth Telling Serum that Alan spoke of.

It was incredibly difficult to make due to its ingredients and the rituals involved.

However, if there was ever an emergency, it was this.

“Force his mouth open,” Alan said.

The crowd hushed. Everyone crowded close as Shade was forced to open his mouth, and a sparing dose of Lily Veras was poured down his throat.

He coughed. Struggled. Failed to free himself.

Sank back onto the stool that we had placed him on.

At my signal, one of my Blades gripped him by the hair and forced him to look at me while I interrogated him publicly.

“He should be ready now,” Alan added softly and stepped back, giving me room.

“Answer truly,” I said, making sure that my voice would carry. “Answer loudly and clearly that all may hear. Are you the one known as Shade?’

The Blade gritted his teeth, but the answer eased out of him.

“Yes,” he spat.

“Did you oversee the operations of the Night Blades in Rimefrost?”

Shade twisted in his bonds, growled, and hissed, but the truth crawled out of him: “I did.”

“Did you consort with a catkin named Mourn?”

“Yes.”

“Did both you and Mourn find and raise Dorset in the path of the Night Blade from a young age?”

“We did… and for that the kit ought to be thankful!” Shade snapped, blue eyes venomous with hit. “What an ingrate! A Munni bastard dying on the streets… and how does he repay us?”

I wanted to punch him. I wanted to make him pay for those words, but I set aside my feelings. Dorset, standing at my side, looked ashamed, but he raised his chin and stared down Shade.

“I did what I had to do… to survive.” Dorset shivered, and his fingers curled into a fist. “Once I learned the truth, though, I wanted to change. If it is a crime to own up to one’s ignorance, then I am indeed the world’s worst rogue.”

“Did you take Mourn and Dorset to the home of Lord Morne?” I asked, returning the focus of the conversation to the topic at hand.

“Yes.”

If looks could kill, I was a dead tom, but I simply smiled and continued.

“And what did you talk about specifically?”

“Various plans. This and that.”

“Were any plans made for the assassination of King Landis?”

A heavy pause, and Shade struggled for all of three seconds before gritting out, “Yes.”

“Were any other lords mentioned at these meetings?

“Baron Weston Forensson showed some support, I was told. And Lord Morne was leveraging his friendship with Lord Berrymay.”

The crowd of noble toms and mollies was now shifting away from each other uneasily. Guards rested their hands on their sword pommels. The King’s bodyguards drew in close around King Landis as well.

“Was Lord Berrymay involved directly in any way?”

“From what I understand, no,” Shade winced. He added with a huff. “The old lord was an idiot pawn, nothing more, I reckon.”

Lord Berrymay was bristling. His grey tail was stiff with anger as he stared stonily at Lord Morne.

Lord Morne held his ground, raising his chin imperiously as though such accusations were beneath him.

However, around him, more nobles eased back.

Baron Forensson, before he could find his way to the edge of the courtyard, found himself confronted with waiting guards. Nobody was about to go anywhere.

“Well,” Lord Berrymay blustered. “I may have been a pawn, but I was an honest one. I have only worked with the best interests of Sumarene in mind.”

“We shall remember that, my lord,” Landis said, hastily reassuring the noble cat. “Perhaps, in light of this revelation, certain conversations may be considered in a new light. Conversations between yourself and Lord Morne. If you are willing, we would like to hear your perspective on the matter.”

“Of course, of course,” the older tom said, more than happy to remain in the king’s good graces.

I was glad that we were able to so easily part Lord Berrymay from Lord Morne’s influences, but judging by the smug look on the would-be usurper’s face, the tom still thought he would survive the day.

A shout rose up, as one of the masked executioners, slashed a dagger down at Shade’s back.

Shade’s arms sprang free. He grabbed the proffered dagger and vaulted off the platform—headed for Landis.

One of Landis’s Sunna guards cut down Ser Anderson, bringing the knight to his knees with a blade to the stomach.

Landis unsheathed his sword as the rest of his retinue closed ranks.

Corrin’s sword met the blade of Shade, while Rolf and the others rushed to Landis’s defense against his revolting guard.

Corrin began to fiercely duel Shade, pressing his advantage and using his weight and superior fighting skills to bring Shade down.

I had no time to worry about Corrin and Landis as the masked executioner lunged at Dorset.

Calling upon his sigils, Alan tripped the rogue with a lashing flare of magic.

At the same time, he popped open his satchel and threw Dorset’s dagger at the thief.

Dorset flashed Alan a grin and darted for the edge of the hanging tom’s platform.

I leaped in to parry an attack on Dorset’s flank.

The force of my thrust knocked my opponent back.

At the same time, Alan’s next spiral of magic, sent two guards who had attempted to join the unknown attacker flying.

In the resulting scuffle, the rogue’s mask was knocked off, revealing a paler skinned Sunna with black hair, a scruffy beard, and golden eyes.

“Mourn,” Dorset hissed.

“You fukken piece of shite—“ Mourn snapped. “Those guards should have killed you that day-”

I glared. My blade shivered along his, driving him back.

With my greater reach and longer blade, I’d be able to break him.

It was simply a matter of time. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Corrin ably pressing Shade back.

One of Shade’s arms hung limply at his side.

Three moves later, Corrin’s blade neatly took Shade’s head off of the catkin’s shoulders. One down.

“He might be gone. We might be gone, but we will always live in his memory. He belonged to us first,” Mourn gritted out. “I was his first, you know. I wonder how you size up to that.”

Shifting my gaze back to Mourn, I growled.

This was the catkin who had taken advantage of Dorset.

He had lied to him, led him down a path of shadows to a lonely world where only Mourn could offer what comfort he deigned to give.

Thanks to this tom, Dorset thought he had no value beyond what he could do for his lover.

Thanks to this tom, Dorset had nearly lived in a hopeless world of smoke and illusions.

And yet… I mused. Thanks to this tom, I met Dorset.

“I’m not too worried,” I smiled back at him confidently. “What is fodder will burn away in the light of the sun, never to linger. Like smoke. But I shall remain with him. Always.”

I threw myself forward, battering aside his first dagger and allowing the second to sink into my shoulder.

My blade swung up in a single swipe. This close, I could feel the press of his flesh against my blade, as I cut his throat.

The daggers fell as the rogue’s hands clutched his throat, choked, and collapsed to the ground.

“Y-ne—“ Mourn’s attempts to speak slowed and died.

My bloodied hands closed his eyes, but I could find no pity in my heart. He had owned Dorset, and after all those years, he had been content to play execution to the one he had misguided. And now he’s dead , I mused. Dorset is free to—

“Behind you!” A shout brought me firmly back into the present.

Whipping around, I realized that two more turncoats had crept up on me. I raised my sword, but my blade met air as the toms collapsed under a spark of Alan’s paralyzing magic.

Along the courtyard, more loyalists rushed forward to grab the forces that had emerged to fight the King’s Blades and guards.

Lord Elthorne and Lord Berrymay, leading other nobles into the fray, called on their own soldiers.

Opposite the courtyard, various townsfolk huddled in fear, but quite a few, bearing cudgels, staffs, and short swords were also fighting Night Blades that had infiltrated the crowd.

The entire courtyard was in an uproar. Lord Elthorne now crossed his blades with Baron Forensson.

Lord Morne was standing above the bodies of two guards, surrounded by three of his own guards.

Hugh was leading the charge against the tightest knot of Night Blades that were attempting to escape out of the castle courtyard.

Alan, choosing not to get in the way, had hastened to join Aileen at Ser Andersen’s side.

Rolf and his Munni brothers-in-arms were rushing to aid Lord Morne’s would-be captors.

And Dorset…

My blood froze as I noticed the path of his bobbing red mane in the crowd.

Slipping past guards, soldiers, nobles, and townsfolk, Dorset moved like an eel in a mighty river.

Like shadow, like smoke, he inched closer to Morne, completely slipping behind Hugh’s back unnoticed.

Only one person saw him—Lord Morne. The noble’s golden tan skin blanched slightly.

Determination shone in Dorset’s eyes. A memory swam to mind. Dorset’s dark words.

“You don’t kill people, Dorset.” That’s what I’d said.

“But I would have,” he whispered back. “For you.”

Leaping down, I tried to forge after him, but my broader frame struggled to catch up with the gathering crowds.

Lord Morne was now fighting a losing battle against Rolf and the rest. Realizing that his three guards had fallen at his side, Lord Morne turned with the aim of fleeing toward one of the horses—only to be confronted with Dorset and his dagger.

Dorset said nothing. Face pale. Lips set in a thin line, his green eyes flashed with determination.

The threat to Landis’s life would end here and now.

I saw it plainly written on his face as he smoothly parried Lord Morne’s fatigued sword arm, slid in close, and drove the dagger home.

Clutching the dagger—Shade’s dagger—Lord Morne collapsed.

His lips formed breathless curses that none would hear.

At the sight of the dying noble, the crowd parted, allowing Landis, Corrin, and other soldiers to draw closer.

I instantly raced to Dorset’s side, drawing him close and looking him over.

“You-you… what were you thinking?” I scolded him. “You aren’t a killer, Dorset! You could have been killed!”

“But I was ready to do what had to be done… and I won,” he said breathlessly, suddenly clinging to me.

His hands were shaking. I took them in mine and drew them to my chest in comfort.

“I would do anything for you, Gareth. Gods. Gareth. I–” He blurted out.

“I-I should have said it before. I love you. I–”

My hand rose to cup his cheek briefly, and I offered him a brilliant, reassuring smile. I wanted to embrace him. I wanted to kiss him senseless. Aware of the eyes that watched us like hopes, I opted for simple truthful words instead, hoping he would see the love I felt in return.

“I know. I love you too.”

And with those words, I found release. And words could not suffice for a tom of action.

I had to draw him closer, gather him up in my arms, and allow myself to dominate him with a kiss.

Around us, the crowd gasped and whispered.

I didn’t care. My world only centered on one person.

The one most important to me. Dorset and his soft touch.

The press of his hand against my chest. His soft lips returning the kiss, inviting me in.

I could not turn away. I had found my heart again.