Page 51 of Nemesis Mine
“I escape with the help of...?”
With obvious reluctance, Balthazar reached into his pocket and took out the rusty key to the cell. He laid it carefully on the ground between them.
“You seized it when you accosted me,” he said stiffly. “I came to clean your wound to ensure your survival for Maximillian. You lunged for me in the cell before I could render you unconscious with this.” He indicated the final glass vial, where a scrap of parchment wrapped around the bottle bore a hurried sketch of an opium poppy. “You hit me, knocking me out, and ran.”
Cyrus eyed him speculatively. A muscle jumped in Balthazar’s jaw.
“You’re not going to actually knock me out,” he said. His teeth sounded like they were grindinghard. “If you try, I will poke that wound so hard you will cry like a child.”
Interestingly vicious. It also, unfortunately, insinuated that he had noticed the gathering tears earlier. Still, Cyrus could respect the intent.
“Wasn’t even thinking of it,” he lied.
Balthazar didn’t look convinced. He gave Cyrus a dirty look but let the matter drop, shrugging out of his cloak instead.
“You took this from me when you knocked me out, so nobody would recognise you. You went up the staircase,through the passageway that leads out, and took two left turns. That brought you to the stable, where you stole a horse.” Balthazar spoke quietly but clearly, each word precise and devoid of emotion. “Ride for the house overlooking the harbour on the westerly hill. It stands alone and will be empty. You can’t mistake it. Donotlet yourself be seen.”
Cyrus considered this, slowly pulling Balthazar’s cloak towards him. “Maximillian’s house.”
“One of Maximillian’s properties.”
Of course. Cyrus glanced out of the cell, down the shadowed passageway with its flickering torches. “Gaoler needs killing, I presume.”
The muscle in Balthazar’s jaw jumped again. “Incapacitatingonly. I brought his meal with yours. It included a very light dose of sleeping draught. Untraceable. He’ll be conscious but very tired, so he won’t be difficult for you to overcome.” Balthazar’s eyes flickered to Cyrus’s bandages. “Even in your... condition.”
He was trying to needle. He was fortunate that Cyrus had bigger problems to deal with.
Picking up the key, Cyrus gingerly stood and shook the stiffness out of his legs, breathing through a flare of discomfort. The wound throbbed, but it was bearable.
He looked at Balthazar. The other man didn’t move, still kneeling on the ground, his head turned away. This must be a terrible affront to his dignity.
Cyrus could relate to that, at least.
There was one last thing to sort. “I left my horse at a paddock outside the city. She’ll need collecting—”
Balthazar didn’t turn his head. He addressed the wallof the cell, his voice tight. “Do not ask me to do any more for you.”
“It’s not for me.” The words slipped out before Cyrus could think them through. Did he intend them as a taunt, a finger pressed to the bruise at Balthazar’s core, or as an acknowledgement, allowing him the relief of knowing that Cyrus did not mistake his intentions? He wasn’t sure. Maybe the answer was both. “You’re not doing this for me. I saw.”
Balthazar’s head did turn this time. There was a flash of emotion in his eyes, something hot and angry and hurt. But it vanished as swiftly as it had come, and when Balthazar spoke his voice was quiet and steady.
“No. It’s not for you.”
There was something else lurking beneath those words, a half-swallowed sentence. The silence between them was taut. Cyrus turned to leave.
“He was always going to kill you, you know.”
Cyrus stopped, one foot out of the cell.
“From the start, that was his plan.” Balthazar’s voice was still quiet. “He would use you to increase his standing, get what he wanted, and then finish you off in front of a nice big crowd. All thatbondingthe two of you did... he was just pretending to keep you on side. You were only ever a tool to him. It never meant anything.”
Cyrus didn’t move, his back still to Balthazar. He sounded distant, like his voice couldn’t quite get through.
But Cyrus’s body absorbed each word. His heartbeat picked up, demanding that he listen. His throat felt curiously tight, as though Balthazar had wrapped cold fingers around his neck and squeezed.
“Just so you know,” Balthazar said, unnaturally calm.
Maximillian’s face flashed through Cyrus’s mind, the way he’d looked as his sword bit into flesh. The anguish.
