My throat burned, but the more I struggled, the more his arm squeezed.
Dane's fingers flexed around the sword handle and he took a small step forward.
"Stay back!" Brant shouted. "Don't come any closer. I have a knife to her back, and I will use it."
I tried to signal to Dane with my eyes that Brant lied. He didn't have a knife. Nothing dug into my back. His hand fisted in my clothes, pulling my shirt and jerkin tight, but that was all. I would have felt the sharp sting of a blade if he held one.
Dane didn't seem to understand my signals, however. His face was unreadable as ever, his focus entirely on Brant, waiting for the moment to charge and overpower him.
I could help him choose that moment. Brant might not be armed, but I was.
I tucked my hand into the slim pocket of my skirt and wrapped my fingers around the surgeon's scalpel. Ever since Lady Deerhorn kidnapped me, I'd carried it for protection.
"Get me the fucking gem!"
Brant's shout made me jump which obscured the movement of my arm as I arced it backward and stuck him high up in the thigh.
He cried out and his grip loosened. I stomped on his foot, punched his wounded leg, and slipped out from the circle of his arm. He swore in frustration and pain, but could do nothing except surrender at the point of Dane's sword.
"You fucking bitch! You cut me!"
Blood smeared the small hole in his pants at his upper thigh. "Next time I'll aim higher," I said.
That shut him up with an audible gulp.
Dane put pressure on his sword, driving the tip into Brant's chest. "You were already on thin ice," Dane said. "No one will care if I kill you now."
"You should care," Brant spat. "If you kill me, you'll never get your memories back." His lips stretched. "That got your attention, didn't it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I have the king's remaining wishes. I can wish for our memories back, but I need the gem."
"What do you mean you have the wishes?"
"There are two and I can use them. The sorcerer will grant me what I want if I have the magic device. I know it as surely as I know I'm standing here now, arguing with you when you could be getting the gem."
"I don't believe you."
Brant shrugged. "Why would I lie? Fetch the gem, let me make the wish and we'll find out, won't we?"
Dane shook his head. "If it were true, Barborough would have said so."
"What if he didn't know the wishes could transfer? Or what if he did and decided to lie about it? I know you want your memory back, Hammer. Trust me." Brant put out his hand, slowly, so as not to rile Dane. "Give me the gem and let me wish for our memories to return."
Dane shifted his stance. "It's not up to me. Go back to the garrison. We'll discuss it."
Brant swore and shook his head. "You're the captain! The leader! Make the decision."
"I'm the captain of the guards, not of the rest of the staff. It's not my decision to make when it affects us all. Go to the garrison and keep your hands where I can see them."
Brant rolled his eyes but did as asked. I went to follow him, but Dane held me back. He touched my throat, stroking his thumb along the tender flesh.
"You did well," he murmured. "I like that knife." He gently pried open my fist to reveal the scalpel. I hadn't realized I'd been clutching it so tightly. "You don't need it now."
Even so, I did not pocket it, and he did not sheath his sword until we reached the garrison.
A low rumble of voices greeted us as well as glares directed at Brant. He snatched up a cup and filled it with ale from the jug at the sideboard.
"Listen up!" he said, raising the cup. "I've got something to say. Something you'll all want to hear."
Almost all of them turned to Dane with questioning looks.
"Listen to him," was all Dane said.
Brant moved around the room, walking behind the seated men and Meg. Their gazes followed him, wary, watchful, as if they expected him to flick the backs of their heads as he passed, or worse. Brant preened from the attention.
"Get on with it," one of the guards muttered.
"Patience." Brant pulled out a spare chair and sat on the back, his feet resting on the seat, elbows on his knees. "I inherited the king's remaining wishes when I killed him."
Silence. Again, several men looked to Dane.
"Why are you looking at him?" Brant snapped. He jerked his thumb at his chest. "I have the two unused wishes. They transferred to me after the fake king died."
"How?" someone scoffed.
"Why?" asked Quentin.
"I don't know," Brant admitted. "Maybe they jumped into me because I was closest to him when he died, or maybe I got them because I'm the one who killed him. But I do know I have them."
"The sorcerer tell you that?" asked Ray.
"It didn't tell me with words, just…just a feeling, I suppose."
Erik snorted. "You want us to believe you?"
Brant turned an icy glare onto him. "I don't care what you believe, Marginer."
"But you care what I believe," Dane said. "I'm the one with the gem, and if I don't believe your story, I won't give it to you."
Brant straightened. "I'm telling the truth."
"Then why did you wait so long to come forward? Leon died five days ago. You've had ample opportunity to talk to me."
Brant lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
"Because he wanted to keep the wishes for himself," Balthazar said.
Brant studied the men who'd been his colleagues, his friends. At least he had the decency not to lie to their faces and deny the accusation, but he showed no contrition either.
"It was you who searched my old house and tied up the Ashmoles," I said. "Not Barborough. You were looking for the gem."
Meg gasped.
"Why not just ask Hammer for it?" Max asked.
"Because I knew he wouldn't give it to me," Brant snapped. "He doesn't want you all to get your memories back."
Again, everyone looked to Dane.
"You think that of me?" Dane asked. "That I would deny everyone the chance to have their memories returned?"
"Aye, if you don't trust me. You think I'll use one of the wishes to gain my fortune."
"Or punish your enemies," Balthazar added. "Hammer might trust you enough to give you the gem, but I don't. And unless we all agree, you're not getting it."
"It's not up to you, old man. Hammer has it, not you."
"This affects us all. We all get an equal say and unless we come to an agreement, the gem stays hidden until we can be sure we can trust you."
Brant pushed off from the chair, kicking it over as he lunged toward Balthazar. It took both Dane and Max to hold him back. Brant struggled against them until Dane wrenched his shoulder back. Brant hissed in pain.
"I lost my memory too!" he cried. "Why wouldn't I want to use a wish to get everyone's memories back?"
"There are too many unanswered questions," Balthazar went on, "not to mention too many doubts about your character. How do we even know you're telling the truth? You had ample time to tell us but you didn't, not for five days."