Arrow on the String: Solomon Sorrows Book 1 by Dan Fish (no david read aloud TXT) 📕

her jaw, spoke through gritted teeth, emphasized each word. “Not a chance, orchole.”

She was stubborn as all hells. “I figured as much. In which case, I think we should stay together. Oray can work out the details. You and I keep thinking, keep working. You might be too close to this, but so am I. Jace had me fooled from the start.”

Davrosh stared at him. He stared back. For the first time since they’d met, they understood each other. She nodded slowly.

“Do you miss the goblin?” she asked.

Sorrows sighed. “I do.”

“That elf’s got a real mean streak.”

“Mig said the same thing.”

Davrosh grinned. The same chin-stretching grin she always gave. But it looked different now. Confident. Strong. Full of resolve.

“Eight days,” she said.

“Eight days.”

“Jace won’t know what hit her.”

Sorrows lifted an eyebrow. “I’m guessing it’ll be you.”

Davrosh barked a short laugh, turned and walked up the spiral corridor. She waved without looking back.

“Entrance hall in an hour. Don’t be late. Bring your bow.”

Sorrows watched until she disappeared behind the curve of the wall. He went into his room, grabbed his bow, sat on the bed. Took a deep breath, then another, and another.

✽✽✽

JULIA WATCHED HIM, nodding, smiling. She moved her fingers to brush the hair off his forehead. He couldn’t feel her touch, but he imagined it. Willed the memory of it into his skin. Willed the memory of her scent into his nostrils, the sound of her voice into his ears. She said something. Three words. Her mouth and lips and tongue moved in a way so familiar he thought for a moment he had heard her speak. But he hadn’t. He smiled.

“I love you, too,” he said. “Always.”

He lifted a hand to her face, let his fingers graze her cheek. Fought to keep them close to her skin without breaking the surface. Fought to keep the illusion real.

“This is a bad one, Julia. I was distracted. A woman died.”

Julia’s smile faded. Her brow knit. She shook her head, tilted it to the side, said something encouraging. She had always read him. He missed that. Missed her knowing what he was thinking without him telling.

“I can’t leave before this is finished, but I’ve stayed in one place for too long. There’s a Seph.”

He gave a short laugh. No humor, all irony. He shook his head.

“Gods, in the midst of everything there’s a Seph who’s going to start looking for me.”

Julia smiled small and tried to brush his hair away again. She said something, but he couldn’t hear what. He nodded like he understood.

“It’s time, Julia. I’m keeping the bow close from now on. I have to. When the Seph shows, I need to… you deserve peace.”

She flickered, saw the same from him. Her eyes grew wide. She shook her head. Leaned forward, and their lips passed through one another’s. She disappeared.

He stared at the space where she had stood, took a deep breath, then returned to the room.

✽✽✽

THEY HAD A new list of names. Seven. Their portion of the week ahead. Ga’Shel had another seven, as did Oray. Twenty-one women out of twenty-three. A busy week in a busy month. Four additional mage guards were assigned to each dance. They had instructions, knew what to do. Twelve mage guards each night plus Sorrows, Davrosh, Oray and Ga’Shel. Tuesday and Friday had four dances, four more mage guards. The City Guard was contacted. They’d provide sleds at each dance, runners to gather the scattered guards if Jace showed, transport for reinforcements. A busy week. And the next was worse.

The first name for Sorrows and Davrosh was Nimola Kravel. The Kravel estate was situated on the west side of Hammerfell, with the plains stretching beyond. Kravel Manor was built in a great hollow square, with a courtyard in the center. Three stories of granite and marble surrounded by evergreen hedgerow and spruce, towering black walnut. The interior was polished floors, marble columns, curling staircases; balusters like rows of soldiers overlooking the foyer; vaulted ceilings and chandeliers of crystal and glowstone. The walls held paintings as tall as the dwarves they portrayed. Life-sized representations of the Kravel matriarchy. Some stern, some soft, some caught in between. Oil on canvas framed in hammered gold.

Sorrows studied a painting of a striking dwarf with sapphire eyes, her hair done in long, slender braids draped along one side of her head. She had a smile that pushed at her cheeks, and the painter had captured its beguiling nature well. Her lips looked like rose petals, her beard was dark and cut close.

“She’s a real looker,” Davrosh said, joining him.

Sorrows nodded, rubbed his cheek. “She was. Good kisser, too.”

Davrosh laughed. “You’re joking.”

Sorrows shrugged. “Is it time?”

“Nimola’s heading upstairs as we speak.”

“Let’s go.”

Davrosh hesitated. “She’s scared. She asked if I’d stay in the room.”

“It’s a good idea. Are you up for it?”

Davrosh nodded. “I’ll put my chair against the door.”

“If she disappears, you let me know right away.”

“Of course.”

“But I won’t open the door. I can’t.”

“I know.”

They went upstairs. Davrosh closed the door. Sorrows set his chair in front of it, heard Davrosh slide hers against the opposite side. Two mage guards patrolled the hallway outside the room. Two more wandered the first floor of the house. They walked softly, but Sorrows heard them talking in low voices throughout the night. Sometime before sunrise, Nimola’s mother, Avelyn, crept out of her room, padded down the hall, stopped in front of Sorrows.

“Anything?” she asked.

She wore a cotton nightgown. Her hair hung in a loose braid down her back. Her feet were bare, pale. Her eyes were anxious, tired. Sorrows half turned, spoke low.

“How we doing, Davrosh?”

Two light taps on the door. Sorrows nodded at Avelyn. Everything’s good. She sighed, nodded. Thank the gods. She returned to her room. An hour later, another knock on the door. Not as soft.

“Can I come out now?”

Sorrows opened the door, Nimola stepped out. Davrosh followed. Avelyn appeared at the far end of the hall.

They were through the first night. They had seven