My Guard Abandoned Me for My Half-Sister, So I Ordered His Suicide

When my father died, he left me seven shadow guards, each one deadly.

But when the rebels stormed the imperial city, the captain of those guards abandoned me and ran to the palace to save my half-sister.

I clawed my way through a dozen deaths before I reached the southern lands, and only then did he come limping in after me, my half-sister at his side, ready to confess.

"This servant failed to protect you. I beg you, punish me as you see fit!"

I glanced back at the shadow guard lying on the sickbed, more breath leaving him than coming in.

Then I said, flat and quiet, "Take your own life."

The captain's face changed in an instant. It was a long moment before he forced out a single sentence. "This servant... the reason I left without a word was to protect the second young lady!"

I nodded, cold. "Yes. That's why I'm granting you the mercy of your own blade, instead of ordering you hacked to pieces."

The white funeral banners drifted in the wind.

I sat on the cold rush mat, looking at the seven men in black who stood before me with lowered heads.

Everything churned in my chest, and my fingers tightened without meaning to on the coarse hemp of my mourning clothes.

My father had died half a month ago, on the battlefield of the northern frontier.

When his body was brought home wrapped for burial, only half a breastplate remained to name him by.

The Duke Protector's house was a house of loyal martyrs, every last one.

The emperor, moved by a lifetime of service, granted me, the firstborn legitimate daughter, the title of noble lady, and gave me my father's shadow guards as well.

Cyril Henson, the captain of those guards, was the man who years ago had crawled out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood at my father's side.

His skill was the finest of all seven.

He was cold by nature, spare with words. In all those years I had almost never seen him smile.

Before he marched out, my father had taken my hand and said, "Cyril is loyal. With him beside you, guarding you, no matter what you face, ruin will turn to safety."

My father had never once lied to me, all my life.

I believed him.

From then on I treated Cyril as my most trusted man.

Whatever His Majesty rewarded me with, I would give half to him.

But every time he only bowed low, gave his thanks, and refused to take it.

He said only that protecting his mistress was his duty and nothing more.

His faithfulness to his post moved me, and I came to trust him more and more.

I even told him where the secret passage of the Duke Protector's house lay.

I never knew that my trust, far from buying me the same loyalty in return, would instead become the stepping-stone he used to win my half-sister's favor.

Three months later.

Father's mourning period was not yet over when the imperial capital fell into chaos.

After the defeat on the northern frontier, the vassal prince raised his army in rebellion under the pretext of purging the emperor's court.

The Imperial Guard broke at the first blow.

The night the imperial city fell, the sound of killing carried all the way from the Vermilion Gate to the Duke Protector's house.

When Cyril knocked at the door of my courtyard, I had just tucked the military tally Father left me into my robe.

He was dressed for night work, the black hem of his clothes stained with blood, and he knelt before my door. "My lady, let me get you out through the secret tunnel."

I gave a small nod and followed him toward the back garden.

The tunnel entrance lay behind the rockery. Apart from me, the legitimate daughter, and Cyril, no one knew where it was.

The way was black enough that I could not see my own hand, so I gripped the corner of his clothes and made myself keep walking.

He moved fast. Even his footsteps were shaking.

I thought the strain was getting to him, and I was about to say something to steady him.

But I never expected that, when we reached the entrance, he would stop.

"My lady, I'll take you only this far," he said coldly. "From here, let these six brothers escort you. I have to go into the palace and bring the second young lady out!" With that, Cyril gave a low whistle.

And then.

The other six shadow guards Father had left behind sprang out of the dark.

I looked at him blankly and asked, "You're throwing me away to save her?"

He kept his eyes down, his voice heavy, cold as if steeped in ice. "The second young lady is also of His Grace's blood. I cannot stand by and watch her die. My lady, you have always understood what is right. I know you can see the difficulty I'm in..."

I laughed. The sound broke into small, cold echoes against the narrow mouth of the tunnel, freezing to the bone.

"Understand? Cyril! My father pulled you out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. He taught you how to fight, he gave you a chance to live, and before he marched out he entrusted me to you. Is this how you repay the Duke Protector's house?"

He looked up at me suddenly, a smear of blood still uncleaned at the corner of his eye.

There was even something wounded in his voice. "The second young lady was gentle to me from my earliest days. She's trapped in the palace now, and I can't watch her die. My lady, you are clever, and every one of these six brothers can take on ten men. They'll get you safely to the southern lands! Please, my lady, forgive me!"

I stared at that cold face I had known for more than ten years and felt only that it was utterly a stranger's.

Once I had simply thought his nature was cold. Only now did I see clearly. It was never coldness. He had given his whole heart to my half-sister, Gloria Pruitt.

I did not argue with him again. I only waved my hand. "Fine, go! But think it through. Know the price of walking away."

Cyril seemed not to have expected me to agree so readily. He froze for a moment, then said, "I willingly accept whatever punishment comes!" and turned and ran back toward the palace, scrambling in his haste.

I watched his figure disappear into the dark, and what little regard I had left for him burned down to ash.

I turned to the six shadow guards. "If any of you want to leave, you may go now, on your own."

The six of them dropped to one knee together, the black hems of their clothes brushing the damp flagstones.

Their answer left no room for doubt. "His Grace raised us for ten years. We are loyal only to the true daughter. In life we are the lady's men, in death we are the lady's ghosts!"

I pressed the military tally in my robe, still warm from my body, my throat tight, and bowed deeply to them. "Thank you! When we've come out of this alive, I will repay what you've given me!"

The tunnel let out at the burial ground on the edge of the city.

The moment we came out, we ran straight into the rebel army blocking the exit.

Only then did I understand: to protect Gloria, Cyril had sold the location of the tunnel exit to the rebel army, buying himself the chance to slip past the palace siege.

When the rain of arrows swept down, Third Blade, walking at the very front, took three of them meant for me.

The shafts punched clean through his chest, and he did not so much as groan.

He only raised his blade and charged, carving us a way out.

The remaining five closed around me, fighting and falling back, every step forward paid for in blood.

I had never seen slaughter so brutal.

Six grown men who had followed my father out into the world,

hacked me a path to safety with nothing but their own flesh and bone.

By the time we finally broke through the encirclement, only First Blade and Sixth Blade were left at my side, both badly wounded.

Still we did not dare stop. We could only push on, whatever it cost.

By the time we reached the southern lands, Sixth Blade could hold on no longer.

As the breath left him, he gripped my hand and said, My lady, you must avenge His Grace the Duke, and don't grieve for us... the few of us gave our lives to His Grace long ago... all of this... it was ours to do...

I crouched in the weeds at the roadside, looking at Sixth Blade's eyes that would not close in death, and finally the sobs broke out of me.

First Blade leaned against a tree trunk, his face white as paper, yet still forcing himself to hold out the waterskin to me. My lady, don't cry... haven't we made it safely to the southern lands after all... the brothers died where they should have... that's a good thing...

I took the waterskin and wiped my tears.

We had worn through three pairs of shoes on that road.

One by one, the people at my side were gone.

Only then did I understand what Cyril had meant when he said, I will surely keep you safe all the way to the southern lands.

It was to be built out of six lives.

The Duke Protector's house kept a hidden estate in the southern lands, an escape route my father had prepared long before.

I helped First Blade inside, told the steward to send for a physician to treat him, then took the tiger tally and went straight to the general's manor.

While he lived, my father had told me that if anything ever went wrong in the imperial capital,

I could take the tally to the southern lands and call up the old ranks of the Duke Protector's house.

This tiger tally could not move the Capital Garrison, but it could move the hundred thousand men of the southern garrison.

Because every last one of them was a soldier my father had trained with his own hands, and they answered to the tiger tally, not to any imperial order.

The southern lands were still at their music and dancing. Word of the vassal prince's rebellion had not yet reached this far.

I took the tiger tally and knocked on the gates of the general's manor.

The moment General James, who held the city, laid eyes on the tally, he dropped to his knees and knocked his forehead against the ground three times.

"This soldier greets you, my lady! I would die for you gladly!"

I set the tiger tally down on the table and looked at the broad-shouldered general in front of me, and my mind went, unbidden, to the five shadow guards who had died to protect me.

I murmured to myself, "Father... it's a comfort that all your years of care weren't wasted... Not every man is a traitor like Cyril Henson."

Then I reached out and lifted him from the floor.

"Uncle Lowell James, my father died on the northern frontier. Even Cyril, the man he trusted most, turned on me. The blood of the whole Duke Protector's house and the lives of five shadow guards are in the hands of the rebels now. I've come today to borrow your hundred thousand men and march with me back on the capital to crush the traitors. Will you?"

Lowell looked up, his eyes so red they seemed about to bleed.

He drove his fist down onto the table hard enough to make the teacups jump. "This soldier has waited a long time for this day! That battle on the northern frontier, His Grace could only have lost because some traitor at court sold him out. I've held it in far too long... Rest easy, my lady. A hundred thousand men stand ready at any moment. One word from you, and we cross the river at once!"

Lowell's words were like a brand pulled from the fire, and they burned until my eyes ached.

I clenched my sleeve, nails all but sinking into my flesh, and forced the surging feeling back down.

Then I bowed low. "For my father and for the brothers who died so cruelly, I thank you, General James!"

After that, we bent over the map and talked the whole night through.

From provisioning the grain and forage to the line of march, we went over every last piece of it for a long while.

Only when the sky lightened did I leave the general's manor.

Lowell was thorough. He understood how delicate my position was now.

He sent three thousand of his best men to guard me, and they sealed the estate tight.

And it was only from that moment that the fear I had carried finally settled.

Back at the estate, the first thing I did was call in the physician treating First Blade. "How bad are his wounds?"

The physician stroked his beard and shook his head. "My lady, this warrior took an arrow clean through his lungs, and he lost far too much blood on the road here... For now... all I can do is hold on to what breath is left in him... but whether he pulls through... that rests with Heaven alone."

I let out a long sigh at his words.

I crossed to the bedside and took First Blade's cold hand in mine.

He had already slipped into a half-conscious daze, his brow drawn tight.

Yet his lips still moved, murmuring, "Kill the rebels... guard the young lady... avenge His Grace..."

My throat tightened, and my tears struck the back of his hand.

I said softly, "Hold on a little longer, First... We're marching back soon. You have to live, live to see the day I cut down my enemies with my own hand..."

The words had barely left me when the steward's voice came from beyond the door. "My lady! There's a man at the gate with a young woman... he says... he says he's an old acquaintance of yours, Cyril Henson..."

I shot to my feet, and every trace of warmth drained from my eyes.

I smoothed the hem of my robe and told the physician, "You may go."

Then I gave a cold, mocking little laugh. "I didn't think he'd actually dare bring that wretch back here... Just as well. It saves me the trouble of hunting him down." And to the steward I said, "Bring them in!"