Havoc (Dred Chronicles 2)

He said somberly, “Ah, but wishing’s for innocents, love. People like us, we don’t get the shiny.”

A thump on the door interrupted whatever she might’ve said. “The Speaker is here. He’s demanding an audience.”

“What the hell does Silence want?” Dred snapped.

But she strode out the door and stormed to the common room, where the revels had fallen silent. Damned Death’s Handmaiden, always thinking she could have whatever she demanded. After her failed power play, Dred hadn’t expected to hear anything from her for a while, but the Speaker stood waiting for his meeting with perfect composure. She wanted to stab him, but their problems were already big enough without going to open war with Silence.

Now’s not the time.

“What is it?” she demanded, omitting all courtesies.

“You’ve fortified Queensland. The Handmaiden will be reassured to hear that you fare well.”

“I’m not in the mood for games. Say what you came to say or I kill you, shove your body down the chute, and tell the next messenger you must’ve died on the way back.”

“She would never believe you.”

Dred smiled and took a step forward. “But you’ll still be dead. Talk.”

“Very well, if you must be so brutish. You’re turning into Artan.”

That was the last insult that should’ve passed his lips. The former leader of this territory made Grigor look refined. He’d raped for pleasure and murdered for sport, taken prisoners as slaves and pets, and his idea of entertainment always ended in blood sport and torture. I’m not like him. I protect my people as best I can. Dred slammed a fist into the Speaker’s stomach, then kicked his feet out from under him.

Once he was on the ground and understood just how precarious his existence was, she set her fingers gently on his throat. “You look better from this angle, Speaker.”

“And your head will roll for this offense,” he snarled. “To think I came to offer you the most sacred of honors.”

“What’s that?” She was smirking.

“The Handmaiden wishes to renew your alliance. In her infinite wisdom, she has foreseen that the only way we can withstand this invasion is to fight the interlopers together.”

“Why does she want to survive it?” Jael asked lazily. “Isn’t she all about death?”

The Speaker tried to roll out from beneath Dred, but she increased the pressure on his throat, digging in with her nails, sharp enough to bring up crimson crescents on his sour-smelling, pasty skin. “On her terms. In her time. She is Death’s mistress, not a victim to be murdered by a mob of ignorant brutes.”

Silence really is bugshit insane. After trying to kill me, after putting a mole in my inner circle, she thinks she can crook a finger, and I’ll come running?

“It’s a tempting offer,” she said. “Let me think about it.”

Jael made a noise, but she quieted him with a subtle gesture. She helped the Speaker to his feet, making sure her expression gave nothing away. Around her, other Queenslanders were watching, hardly seeming to breathe. Nobody shouted advice or warnings. She counted to ten, letting the tension build.

Eventually, Dred said, “I’ve come to a decision. Silence—and the rest of you—can f**k all the way off. I will not help you. In any fashion. If you show up near my territory again, I will kill you. Failing that, I hope the mercs burn everything down in that grisly slaughterhouse you call home.”

Whoops rang out from the rest of the men, and she beckoned to Cook, who was the closest thing she had to visually intimidating muscle since Einar died. “If you don’t mind, would you take out the trash?”

The chef grinned, threw his chopping knife at the opposite wall, and advanced on the Speaker, who backed up. He doubtless had a garrote on his person and maybe a poison knife, but Cook was too big to be taken like that, especially coming at a target head-on. The rest of Queensland stopped the Speaker’s retreat and Cook yanked him up bodily and dragged him like a haunch of meat, so the emissary’s head thumped against the floor. With a jerk of his head, the chef summoned more men, probably to help him toss the Speaker over the barricades. When he returned, someone scurried to retrieve his knife.

“That wasn’t politic,” Tam said from behind her. “But it was excellent theater.”

She turned with a frown to confront his sallow, sweaty countenance. “You should be in bed, resting.”

“He’s bored,” Martine said. Tam’s arm was around her shoulder, more for support than in affection, Dred suspected. “He’s not up to the sort of tricks he’d normally enjoy.”

Tam wore an inscrutable expression, but Dred picked up a flare of strong emotion. Quickly, she shut her gift down, not wanting to spy on him. Whether it was anger or desire, she had no reason to delve further. More to the point, she was concerned about his recovery.

“Any sign of infection?” she asked Martine.

The spymaster scowled, as if he knew Dred suspected he’d prevaricate if questioned about his condition. But the shorter woman had no such compunction. “Not so far. He’s going to have some impressive scars, provided he pulls through.”

“It’s not my time,” Tam said.

His tone sounded as if he actually knew when he’d die, but Dred had met sociopaths who enjoyed screwing with other people’s heads. Unsurprisingly, there were more than a few of that stripe in Perdition. Despite their relatively long acquaintance—in prison terms—she wasn’t sure if Tam fit that profile. Martine was another enigma. Maybe that was why they gravitated toward one another. Interesting, because the partner the other woman chose before Tam had been his complete antithesis.

“Look after him,” she told Martine.

“I plan to.”

Tam raised a brow, but he didn’t protest when the woman steered him toward the common room. There would still be goulash on the boil though it was probably down to mushy paste by now. It wasn’t long until downtime, where most of Queensland retired, and only a skeleton crew remained on watch. Dred found it hard to relax during those hours because there was no way to be sure if the men on watch were truly loyal; it would be the perfect time for a traitor to let the enemy inside their borders.

Dred intercepted Jael on the way to the gardens. “Haven’t you done enough today?”

He turned with the cocky grin that once drove her crazy. “Is that your way of telling me my services are required elsewhere?”