Chapter 3

I burst out of the shadows.

No hesitation, no shout.

I threw my whole body weight behind the blade.

Riding the momentum of the downward swing, I chopped hard into Young Lord Hall's right wrist bone, the hand still gripping the branding iron.

The blade sank deep into bone.

Young Lord Hall let out a bloodcurdling scream, like a pig at slaughter.

The red-hot branding iron flew from his hand and landed squarely on the bare top of his foot.

Clutching his spurting wrist, he collapsed onto the ice, rolling around wildly and wailing in agony.

"My hand, my hand!"

Only then did the dozen or so armored guards snap out of it.

In an instant they had me surrounded.

I wrenched the bone cleaver free and held it in front of the iron cage.

One of the guards swung the flat of his blade and slammed it hard across my back.

A sweet taste rose in my throat, and I pitched forward.

Another guard kicked me in the knee.

My kneecap cracked with a sharp snap as I dropped hard onto the rough ice.

The excruciating pain sent black waves rolling across my vision.

Right after, another heavy blow landed on my ribs.

Hanging in the iron cage, my granddaughter finally spat out the rag in her mouth.

Watching me fall into a pool of blood, the fear in her eyes was instantly replaced by madness.

She thrashed desperately, and the hemp rope around her wrist snapped loose at one end.

Using the force of her drop, she clamped her teeth down hard on the inner thigh of Young Lord Hall as he rolled on the ground.

He was already in so much pain he was near to blacking out, and this made his scream splinter apart.

She refused to let go, tearing a big chunk of bloody flesh straight off his leg.

"You bitch, you mad dog!"

Young Lord Hall roared hysterically.

"Chop them to pieces for me!"

"Hack this grandmother and granddaughter into mincemeat for me!"

The guards raised their steel blades, the edges glinting with a cold, cruel light in the firelight.

Flat on the ground, I strained with everything I had to crawl toward my granddaughter.

But my broken leg had no strength left in it, and at that razor's edge of a moment—

The heavy icehouse door overhead was suddenly smashed to splinters by a hammer blow.

Everyone looked up in terror.

A tall figure in a dark red flying-fish robe leaped down.

The embroidered saber in his hand sliced clean through the thick hemp rope holding my granddaughter.

She dropped, all her strength gone, and the man caught her steadily in one arm.

He turned, the hidden unicorn pattern on his flying-fish robe flickering in and out of view in the firelight.

It was the Commander of the Enforcement Bureau, Lord Mason.

His eyes were cold as ice as he surveyed the wreckage of the icehouse.

"Enforcement Bureau business."

"Anyone who dares to lift a blade will be killed on the spot."

The guards exchanged glances, their hands trembling on their weapons.

Young Lord Hall clutched his broken wrist, glaring at Lord Mason through gritted teeth.

"Ferris Mason."

"How dare you break into the Hall residence? This is the Grand Duchess's private manor."

Lord Mason didn't even spare him a glance.

He bent down and gently laid my granddaughter on a clean felt mat.

Then he turned to me, his voice low.

"Old Mrs. Swanson, you've suffered."

I held on to a single breath, staring hard at Young Lord Hall.

Before I could get a word out, a rush of chaotic, heavy footsteps suddenly came from outside the icehouse.