It was high time they got this over with and as Malice took Jack’s arm in her own, they walked toward the main keep. It seemed like forever since last they’d even been able to stand each other’s presence. Her accusations against the Caliph were severe, enough even, to have the bastard brought before her to explain himself. Jack kept looking at Malice as she let go of his arm, her eyes cool and collected as she took sight on her target. Bumbling away, the vile male wrestled with the guards, the Caliph approached in a long, satin bed-cloak.
“What is the meaning of this?” He shouted, until he set eyes on her.
Malice walked around him, whispering, almost hissing in his face. Grabbing his chin to force him to look her in the eyes, she opened her lips to speak.
“I know what you did, my dear Caliph. The blood money you took to build this gaudy shithole. How you sold the gifted girls to Pathen for his sport…”
The man’s eyes grew wider as she spun on her heels. “She lies…” He started before one of the guards cuffed him.
Malice glared at him and held up her hand. Everyone in the room froze and Jack did his best to back Vanessa and Morgan out of a tense situation. Tense, as in Malice was about to annihilate the Caliph whether Mist allowed it or not and she didn’t care who got in the way.
“There’s no way she could know all of this.” The Caliph mumbled. “You should arrest her, she’s the criminal. The Mistress of Ghost mountain who you Valkyrie have failed to catch for years. Here she stands and you all allow her to call me traitor?” The Caliph pleaded with Mist and the others. “She has no proof…”
Jack could feel Marwolaeth deep within Mal’s mind, lurking like a shadow and causing Malice to smile.
“Oh, but I do, starting with the common knowledge that your great-grandfather was being investigated for slave trading.”
“That was him…”
“Yes, it was, but you followed in his footsteps, and when I arrived to inquire about your actions, I was met with a black drink, made with leaves similar to that of the dark lotus..”
“What?” The male muttered, his arms tied behind his back as he paced back and forth. “I have never…”
“Lies!” Malice shouted, eyeing Belvaya as she circled the male. “She was there…” Malice nodded to the assassin with the white and blue hair. “You offered us drink while we waited for your family scrolls to arrive.”
“It tasted of cinnamon.” Belvaya cocked a brow at the Valkyrie.
“Mine had no flavor at all, but it packed one hell of a punch. Didn’t it?” Malice spun back round to the male who quivered before her. “I made it how far?”
“A half days ride!” Belvaya growled, the light finally shining upon what had happened that day.
“A half a days ride, just enough time for you to set up your ambush!”
“Son of a…” Belvaya started, remembering clearly how she’d lost four sets of daggers that day, and one completely delusional Valkyrie.
She’d sent the last soul to ground and had returned to the camp where Malice was resting, only to find her gone. No word, no nothing…
“You, poisoned her?” She growled again, but Malice held her back.
As Belvaya seethed, Malice reached for the braid in her hair, pulled a slender dagger of Valkyrie design and held it out to her, hilt first. In a desperate attempt, she grabbed hold of Bel’s wrist, using her finger to tap out a warning to her friend.
It took a moment, but Belvaya’s mind managed to translate the message. Malice wanted her to do what now?
’Stab me, then get my ass to the forge. Loki knows what to do…’
Okay, what did Loki know that Belvaya did not? And was Malice serious?