Unhappily Ever After

Chapter 6 - The Bridge We Burnt

It wasn't difficult, then, to draw my pocket knife, crouch, and slash the back of Peyton's knee. He hissed and thrashed as much as the handcuffs would let him. The knife stayed in my hand, shedding blood in a steady drip. A tiny puddle began to form, twin to the one which grew underneath Peyton's buckled leg. No way in hell he'd be able to walk. Quin watched with unmasked horror, while the other guard stiffened at the new smell of blood.

"He's got" —I studied the wound thoughtfully— "ten minutes before he passes out. I suggest you're home when that happens, for his sake. Start walking."

The guard took Peyton's weight as best he could while walking backwards, and let Quin guide him away from me. All of them would be just fine, so long as they were off the bridge when I pulled the next shitty plan.

"Rhodric Llewellyn," a horribly familiar voice shouted. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I lifted my head to squint at the far end of the bridge. Gwen had made it halfway across, a squad of guards at her heels. Then she had stopped. Even with such distance gaping between us, it twisted my heart to see her. We had spent twenty-one years looking out for each other. Now I had to make her hate me.

"What does it look like?" I called back sarcastically.

She tried to initiate a mind-link. I slammed my walls into place, a blatant refusal. Even then, I could feel her thoughts smothering the barrier, seeking for any weakness or fault to exploit. She wouldn't find one. My defence was made of a single, forged purpose: to sever our ties, while her assault was founded on confusion and desperation.

The guards seemed to wake up. They stepped forwards and closed ranks around Gwen, protecting her ... from me. Though what exactly they thought I could do across fifty metres of bridge was unclear. She snapped a command and one ran back the way he had come, towards a larger group of fighters. Half split off and vanished into the forest. Going to the Britannia Bridge to flank me, I didn't doubt.

Gwen switched her mind-link to Quin instead, knowing I'd hear whatever she told him. The message was little more than a whisper, brought on a breeze which stank of Peyton's blood. "Stop it, Ric, or I swear to the Goddess I'll give the order."

Good. That was, after all, the goal.

I cocked my head and let the silence grow for a moment. "No, you won't."

The words were a dare — the quickest way to call her bluff. Could she really command her guard to kill me? Probably, yes. But it would take a lot of convincing on my part.

The awkward trio had managed ten metres. Quin glanced back, his gaze pleading. It wasn't difficult to work out why; they weren't moving fast enough.

"Seven minutes," I said mildly. "Chop, chop."

"Screw you, Rhodric," he snarled. It was amusing — and the first time I had ever seen him lose his temper. He must have said something to Gwen through their link, although I couldn't make out the words, I sure as hell caught the drift. He's bluffing.

Oh, am I? I wondered. Because the kindling under my arm told a different story, and I was feeling particularly volatile that night.

Gwen jerked her head at me and said, overly loud and crystal clear, "It seems my brother has forgotten himself. Bring him to me. Alive is a bonus."

Geez, ouch. That was an invitation to beat me bloody or kill me at their leisure. I'd thought more of our relationship than this. I readjusted my weight as the guards began advancing like crawling ants, maybe two dozen of them. Several paused to shift, and I eyed the timber wolves and grinned. This was more like it: I thrived on chaos.