"We'll go tomorrow night," Clarke says firmly.
Gustus blinks. "I thought you wished to wait for news of the Azgeda gonakru that crossed the border."
"I did," Clarke says, then gestures at him. He's got a few new bruises and burns since yesterday. "But the longer we wait, the more likely it is the guards will start inflicting serious injuries, ones that might make it impossible for you to travel. Besides, Nia should already have heard from the gonakru by now, maybe they've all been killed and can't contact her, or maybe they have contacted her and she's just not telling me. Whatever's happened at the border, it's safer to leave soon." She smiles grimly. "Curiosity killed the cat."
"I see," Gustus says, though he looks confused by the phrase. "I will be ready, then."
"Tomorrow night's best because it's the day Nia sends some of the gona to go get more food each week," Clarke explains quietly. "Most of the remaining ones will be guarding her or Titus. We can block both those groups in by making – well, basically two walls of flame. Roan can take out the rest easily." She smiles thinly. "All I need to do is get the book Titus told me to get tomorrow, set up these things tomorrow night, and then we're gone."
"Well, well," Ontari says, appearing from the shadows suddenly. Too far away to have heard anything, but Gustus and Clarke still both freeze in panic. "Talking to the prisoner, hmm?" Her eyes glitter in cruel amusement. "I knew there had to be some reason you kept disappearing on me." In a sudden, swift move, Ontari darts forward and pushes Clarke roughly against the wall, holding her by the throat. Gustus pushes against the cage door with an angry growl but is forced to watch helplessly.
Black and white spots dance before Clarke's eyes. "Let me go," she chokes.
"No, I think it's time we went to see the Azplana," Ontari says, relaxing her hand a little so that Clarke can breathe again. She smirks. "We can tell her all about what you've been up to. But first..."
She moves forward sharply, and for a second Clarke thinks she's about to hit her, but it turns out to be worse than that. Ontari moves her lips roughly over Clarke's, in a painful, aggressive kiss. Clarke struggles against her grip and Ontari bites down hard on her lower lip. Clarke can taste blood and her mouth feels bruised by the time Ontari pulls away. "Average," she says, licking her lips and tasting Clarke's blood on them. She smirks. "Looks like the Commander didn't teach you much at all."
Gustus makes a rage-filled noise and slams his hands against the bars.
"You'd be surprised," Clarke croaks, and knees Ontari hard in the stomach. Ontari makes a choked, surprised little noise, and Clarke twists away, breaking her hold temporarily.
Clarke backs away, facing Ontari, as she lets out an amused little chuckle. "You wish to fight, Destroyer of the Mountain?" Ontari draws her sword, eyes gleaming. The sword gleams as well, so Clarke can see a waving line down the centre that seems incongruously delicate for a weapon. "Then we fight. It looks like I have that excuse I asked for."
She darts in to slash at Clarke and Clarke moves back even further, just barely evading it. She considers pulling the knife out of her hair, but knows that against a sword it's not going to be much use. She could throw it, but Ontari's fast and good with a sword, Clarke wouldn't be able to kill her like that, not quickly enough that Ontari couldn't avoid it or bat it away with her blade. Lexa could, but Clarke isn't Lexa. Against a sword – what did Lexa tell her to do against a sword if you don't have one as well? Right. Get away, get a weapon. Not very useful advice in this case.
Okay. What should she do? What skills does she have that she can use? Ontari's a better fighter, with a better weapon, and if she wants she can summon lots of back-up as well. Clarke needs some kind of advantage. The only one she can think of is that Ontari doesn't know she has a knife. She needs to get Ontari to let down her guard. What skills does Clarke have? Her main skill – manipulating people using what they want.
What does Ontari want? To be in charge. To be the most powerful. To have people weaker than her to hurt.
Clarke puts her hands up, widening her eyes at Ontari. "Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hit you." She licks at her bleeding lip. "You just – you surprised me. Scared me."
Ontari calms slightly, seeing Clarke's fear. "No, you shouldn't have." She raises her sword so that it's at Clarke's throat. Gustus lets out a hiss but doesn't say anything.
Clarke takes a step back so she's against the wall again, trapped, and lets out a scared little noise. Once again pretending to be an ambitious, petty game-player, but this time one who's realised she's in over her head. "Ontari, please. Please don't hurt me."
"I told you I'd teach you to beg, you worthless Skayon," Ontari says smugly, moving even closer. She angles her sword so that instead of the point being against Clarke's throat, now the edge is along it. Clarke swallows hard when she feels the coldness of it slicing a line in her neck. Ontari's not pushing, but if she does, Clarke will die very quickly.
"I know," Clarke says. Tears come to her eyes. "Please, Ontari. Don't – don't do this – I'll let you have whatever you want -"
Ontari presses her to the wall again, so there's only the sword between them. Clarke's hands are still up – she can't bring them down with Ontari's body in the way. Ontari kisses her again roughly, proving that she does have the upper hand, regaining the pride she lost when Clarke managed to get away from her before. It's just as rough as the other kiss and Clarke whimpers in pain as Ontari's teeth sink into the same spot on her lower lip again.
She kisses Ontari back, not as fiercely, but as if she's yielding to her, giving in, promising to do whatever Ontari wants. After a few more seconds of kissing she lets one of her hands grasp at Ontari's hair, burying her fingers in it and letting out a gasp as if she's being driven by lust instead of cold hatred. Ontari pulls back with a laugh, and opens her mouth to deliver some kind of taunt, probably about how desperate Clarke is. She never gets the chance to say it.
Before she can, Clarke moves her hand – the one with her knife in it – down quickly into the space Ontari's just given her and slices the Nightblood's throat in one swift, desperate move. She uses her unarmed hand to push back the sword blade from her throat, causing it to cut deep into the tendon of her palm. Black blood sprays out as Ontari tries to mouth something then just tries desperately to breathe. She slumps to the ground, the sword she was holding against Clarke's throat clanging against the stone floor, loud in the sudden silence.
Blood is coming from Clarke's lips and her hand. She thinks in a detached sort of way that she probably needs stitches. She can't focus on that right now, not as she watches red blood and black swirl together on the floor. She's drenched in Ontari's blood. She spits out the taste of cold metal, blood and something sour that has to just be Ontari, trying to get rid of it from her mouth.
"Clarke kom Skaikru," Gustus says urgently. "Clarke. Clarke!"
She jerks her head up, looking at him, coming back to herself. "What?"
"You need to hurry," Gustus says slowly, like he's speaking to someone in shock. Maybe he is. That moment of panic when Ontari first assaulted her – when she just froze in shock – it's a miracle she isn't dead. "Hide your knife. Drag her body over here, and give me her sword. Get some water and clean yourself. Then bandage and disguise your wounds as best you can. I will daub some of her blood on me, fake a wound of my own to explain the red blood here. She came too close to my cage, to taunt me, she injured me, and I took her blade and killed her. You were not here. Do you understand? I killed her. You were asleep in your room. That is what happened. Go!"
"They'll kill you," Clarke says numbly. "Nia will kill you straight away. I can't do that!"
"That is the only thing you can do."
"No," Clarke says stubbornly, regaining her usual self-possession. "We have a plan, the plan's in place, we'll just – we'll do it tonight, instead." It was an insanely risky plan when only half the gona were here, she thinks. With them all here it might be suicide. But she's not staying here, and she's not letting Gustus die. This is the only option. "I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" She grabs Ontari's sword, pulling from her stiff hand, and rushes from the room, ignoring Gustus' protests.
When she enters Roan's room, he slams her against the wall instantly, then stops and loosens his grip. "Oh. It is you, Clarke kom Skaikru." He looks her up and down, frowning. "You are covered in blood."
"Thanks, good to know," Clarke says breathlessly. "Let me go." He does, and she straightens up and tries to catch her breath. She's really sick of people pushing her against walls. "We're leaving now," she tells him unceremoniously, shoving the sword into his hands. "Clear the way from the dining hall to the stable and to the exit. Where's the fayowada?"
He looks at her in disbelief but gestures to his bed. "That is far too many -"
"Just do it," Clarke snaps. "You're a good fighter. Prove how good. I'll be along to help soon. Just try and stay as quiet as possible. I've got a distraction coming in ten minutes, take out as many as you can – quietly – before then."
He eyes her for a long moment, then swears and vanishes into the darkness. She moves over to his bed and finds the waterskins filled with alcohol hidden at the base. There's ten of them. She has six in her room as well, and goes back to get those. While she's there she unties the cord for the curtain around her bed, and undoes the knot in the middle from where she cut it a while ago – she used gunpowder and alcohol on it to make the cord into two slow-burn fuses.
After a moment's thought she pulls down the curtains around her bed and manages to pull the coverings off her bed as well. She lumps them into the corridor – Nia's bedroom's at the end, with her guards all there. She grabs more things from Roan's room and Ontari's, anything that looks like it will burn. Then she sloshes half the fayowada around it. She puts one end of the longer piece of cord into the fayowada and the other away, then lights that end using the torch nearby. Hopefully it should take a little while to set off the alcohol, but she leaves quickly anyway.
The cook's asleep in the kitchen again. She was planning to get him drunk tomorrow so he wouldn't wake, tonight she'll just have to hope he stays asleep. Clarke quietly pours the remaining fayowada around the room, including to the flour. She's heard that flour can explode through pressure and heat. She supposes she'll find out if that's true. Whether or not it is, the wooden things in here should burn, and so should all the food. She grabs a few things she thinks will last and stuffs them in her coat. Then finally she puts down the shorter fuse, hiding it behind the counter so no one will see, and uses a torch from the entryway to light it. Clarke feels a pang of guilt when she realises how unlikely it is that the cook will survive this once the fayowada catches.
Then she takes a deep breath, and heads back to Gustus, still clutching the torch. It's time to break him out.