Shadows Over Innocence Read Free Page A

emperor’s suite. Two armored men wearing the black uniforms of the emperor’s personal bodyguard stood to either side of the door.
    “Sir, you can’t—”
    “The emperor’s not to be—”
    Sicarius ignored them and pushed through the door. Raumesys was sprawled naked on his divan with three equally naked young women draped over him. His head jerked up, face twisting with rage. When he identified Sicarius, his features grew more hesitant, but his eyes remained cold.
    Schooled features neutral, Sicarius eyed the women with professional detachment. All three were familiar, which did not discount them, but made them unlikely assassins. He ignored the emperor’s sputtering protests and stalked through the suite, searching the shadows. He found nothing.
    Hollowcrest burst through the door. Six armed and armored men clanked in after him.
    “Yes,” Raumesys said, throwing a bare arm toward the ceiling. “Everyone come in. I’m obviously not busy!”
    “There’s an assassin on the premises,” Hollowcrest said.
    Instead of grabbing a weapon—or clothing—Raumesys tugged one of the girls over his chest. The guards placed themselves at strategic points around the room.
    Satisfied that the emperor had enough men—and women—protecting him, Sicarius slipped into the hallway. He considered the layout of the Barracks, selecting likely hiding places and identifying other possible targets. Raumesys’s wife? Or—a sickening thought flashed through Sicarius’s mind, and his stomach lurched.
    He took off again, candles blurring past. He turned a corner and stopped before an unguarded door—a door that should have been guarded. A dark smudge stained the floor. He bent and touched it. Fresh blood.
    Sicarius eased the door open, afraid of what he would find inside. He pushed the thoughts aside and reached for his usual calm detachment. He had seen death in all its cruelties, delivered it in more cases than he could remember. Living or dead, one boy should not bother him.
    Inside, shadows lurked. Sicarius moved away from the door, so that he wouldn’t be silhouetted against the light of the hall.
    A low-burning lantern glowed on a table beside a canopied bed that dwarfed the five year old curled in the sheets. Against his instincts, Sicarius let his eyes rest on the boy for a moment. He caught the rise and fall of rhythmic breathing, and an iota of relief trickled through his mind.
    A faint rustle sounded. Sicarius crouched, muscles tense. He had not moved, and neither had the boy. Anyone who had watched him come in would know precisely where he was.
    Willing calm into his mind and relaxation into his muscles, he scanned the room. Curtains and furniture cast thick, irregular shadows. As his eyes drifted away from one corner, movement drew them back. Reflexively, he dropped into a roll.
    Something whisked over his head, pinging off the wall.
    Sicarius came up running, his soft boots soundless on the thick carpet as he cut toward the source. The intruder stepped out to meet him. With a soft rasp, a small blade appeared, light from the hall revealing a gooey dark substance on the edge.
    As Sicarius closed, the dagger slashed toward him. He melted away from the strike, then darted in, catching the man’s forearm. He glided in closer, turned his hip, and hurled the would-be assassin over his shoulder. The man proved agile, though, and wriggled out of the throw before he hit the ground. Like a cat, he landed on his feet. But for a split second, he was off balance, and Sicarius struck. Lightning-quick, he slammed a punch into his foe’s kidney. The force of the blow sent the man stumbling forward. Sicarius leaped after him, but, before he reached his target, the assassin whirled, slashing with the dagger. It was a desperate attack from a wounded opponent, but that didn’t make the poison on the blade any less dangerous. Forcing himself to defend with careful, mindful precision, Sicarius knocked the arm wide and stepped close,