Fear flashed in his eyes for an instant, then Ben grunted and faced Bruns. “Just remember who told you to kill them both. Is this why you wanted to meet? To gloat that you’ve captured them?”

“No. Valek agreed to cooperate, and I thought you should hear his information firsthand. It should be very helpful.”

“If we can trust him.”

“We can.”

Explaining about the amethyst, Bruns ordered me to show Ben the bottle. I held it up. Then the three of us trekked down to the jail to interrogate Valek. Ben fussed about the stench until Bruns glared at him.

Valek answered every question. The information he provided, while true, omitted quite a bit. Impressive, considering the battered state of his body and mind. The session ended two hours later when Valek passed out. I worried that Valek wouldn’t be physically able to escape later tonight, but I couldn’t wait for him to recover. Even with Ben’s presence at the garrison complicating things, I had to risk it.

Bruns kept me by his side as he played host to Ben that evening. I endured a long supper, an even longer discussion on how they would use Valek’s information and then was sent to bed like a child while the “adults” conversed about important matters.

Glad to be released, I lay in bed and reviewed my plan, seeking gaps in the logic and other possible problems. My imagination had compiled quite the list of things-that-could-go-wrong by the time Bruns and Ben finished their conversation and retired for the evening.

I waited a couple more hours. Near midnight, I slipped from my room and crossed Bruns’s dark office. I grabbed the doorknob.

“Bruns really is an idiot.” Ben’s voice pierced the darkness.

My breath locked as fear coiled around my body. I turned. “I was just—”

“Save it. I don’t care what you were about to do. The fact that you can do it, despite Loris’s magic, should be a surprise, but I’ve learned my lesson. Do you want to know what that lesson is?” Ben stepped from the shadows.

“No.”

“Too bad, ’cause I’m going to tell you anyway. I’ve learned to never, ever underestimate you. And to never assume anything.” He moved closer.

A strange weakness flushed through me.

“You’ve been consuming the Theobroma,” Ben said. “So why isn’t the magic working? Let’s see...”

The compulsion to sit in Bruns’s visitor’s chair pressed on me. My body obeyed before my mind gave the command. Panic pulsed and urged me to run, scream or fight back. All was ignored.

“Goody. My magic works on you.” He pulled a dagger from a sheath on his belt and stood in front of me. “I’ve imagined stabbing this knife into you a million times.” Ben crouched down to my eye level. He poked my stomach with the blade’s tip.

The pain failed to register over the sheer terror that gripped me.

“However, I think it’ll be so much more fun watching you slice yourself to ribbons before you cut your own throat.” Ben offered me the weapon. “Take it.”

Unable to resist, I reached for the hilt. My fingers brushed Ben’s as I wrapped my right hand around the hilt. In that instant, the compulsions disappeared. Without thinking, I grabbed his wrist with my left hand and hundreds of hours of knife-defense training kicked in.

I thrust forward, unbalancing Ben. He fell back on his butt as I sprang from the seat and followed him. Turning the knife around, I didn’t hesitate to plunge the blade into his stomach, aiming the tip up to his heart, killing him.

It was brutal and ruthless. It was necessary to save myself and the baby. It was just what Ben wished to do to me—erase a problem permanently.

Should I be upset by the warm blood gushing over my hands? By the final painful exhalation from my victim? By the stench of body fluids pooling under his dead body?

Yes—taking a life was never easy, no matter the circumstances.

But did I regret it?

No.

* * *

After I cleaned up, I filled a bucket with water and grabbed the basket full of soap, washcloths and clean uniforms I’d assembled and hidden in a supply closet. I carried them down to the jail. Now wasn’t the time to worry about what could go wrong. There were two sets of doors and four guards between me and my family. Now was the time for action.

“What’s this?” the soldier on the left asked when he spotted me lumbering toward him with my heavy load.

“Bruns wants the prisoners to wash up before the morning,” I said.

“Now? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t question orders,” I said. My tone indicated that he shouldn’t, either.

“All right, give them here.”

I handed the bucket and basket to him as his partner unlocked the door.

“Make sure they all clean up,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll take care of it.”

I left, but didn’t go far. The second set of guards also grumbled about the time. While they transferred the items to the inner guards, I drew a blowpipe from my tunic and a handful of darts with extra-long needles. Loading the first one, I aimed.

With a sharp puff of air, I shot the closest man. It hit his arm, piercing the fabric. By the time he jerked with surprise, I launched another. Then in quick succession I hit the other two. The Curare worked fast and, with only a minimal amount of yelling, they toppled to the ground, paralyzed. Sweet.

I tucked the blowpipe back in my tunic. It was a keeper. The rifling in its barrel had improved even my terrible aim. Take that, Janco!