Not twenty paces from her, the aforementionedwhowas attempting to pry a piece away from the silver vessel, which groaned in protest. Isobel’s mouth went dry at the sight of him. She didn’t know men could reach such sizes—he was huge. It was extraordinary, really, and he was thick, so unlike the lean gentlemen of Dorsent. Stranger still, he wore dark and unfamiliar garb that followed the contour of his body, and a helmet that covered his entire face.
It was as though he were wearing a suit of armor, except he appeared nothing like the knights she read about, either fictional or historical. Whereas such suits didn’t show a hint of the wearer’s strength or form, his shaped to every curve of muscle.
No, not a knight. Instead, he reminded her of the ancient gods from myths she’d devoured in her youth. He simply seemed otherworldly, his presence all-consuming. But something about him also screamed predator. Danger exuded from him, setting off some primal instinct that her mind didn’t know but her body remembered.
She shook off the feeling before her imagination ran wild. “Sir, are you—” she started, raising a hand to wave, but the smoky air made the words crack and die in her throat.
Isobel stepped closer, but then he looked at her. His helmet fully concealed his face, but she could tell where his eyes were as the covers over them burned a fiery red. He tilted his head expectantly, but she couldn’t seem to find her manners.
She had the very sudden feeling that she was being observed in a way beyond her understanding.
The stranger came to some decision as he turned back to his task at hand, bracing a foot against the side of the craft and prying at the metal. She stepped closer to him just as he forced the thick pieceaway. He looked her way again briefly before tossing the debris aside like it was nothing. Then, with what sounded like a snarl, he swiftly disappeared inside.
Clenching her fists, Isobel considered what she should do. Logic warred with emotion, creating a jumbled mess inside her mind. Whatever had happened, whoever was here, this disaster probably required medical personnel and people with more expertise than her. Should she go back and alert the proper authorities?
She worried at her bottom lip as she weighed her options. Retrieving a doctor from Cinder would take some time. Besides, something told her to investigate, and her quickly beating heart was a chant to follow him.
She moved forward determinedly, only to step in a muddy puddle. “Oooh,” she hissed, pulling up her skirts and stomping around it. She would have to attempt to sneak in the back door when she got home if she didn’t want to hear about her dirty shoes from Henry.
“Hello?” she called into the dark interior. Crackling preceded flickering lights that came from above with no discernable flame. However, they revealed a circular chamber filled with odd coils and sealed crates.
Isobel was certain that stars held no such items. The closest thing it brought to mind was a blacksmith’s dark storeroom, or the cargo hold of a ship.
But why had such a thing been flying? That was the real question.
“Hello? Are you well?” she asked into the flickering darkness. When no one answered her, she stepped fully inside.
Following a short pathway around a bend, she found the man who’d been outside framed in a threshold. Before she could reach him, though, he pushed into the space ahead of him.
“Excuse me,” she said as she stepped over some mangled thing she couldn’tidentify.
A rumbling noise came from him. It sounded like words, but none she had ever heard of before. A foreigner, then. That would explain the strange attire, at least.
It didn’t, however, explain anything else.
Someone else responded to him, the sound muffled and full of gurgling. Whoever it was, she couldn’t see them past the broad man before her.
Managing to get within two steps of him without tripping over the uneven floor, she noticed dark liquid dripping from him. She followed the drops up to his arm and tilted her head, peering closer at it.
Dark Armor looked over his shoulder at her.
“You’re hurt,” she said hoarsely, reaching out to almost touch his arm. But his head snapped up as something banged and clattered in the hallway behind them.
Isobel didn’t have time to take in what was happening before Dark Armor circled her waist with his huge hands and picked her up. He pivoted, then set her down again with a little shove that sent her tumbling to the floor unceremoniously.
Before she could recover, another fully armored man collided violently with Dark Armor. In contrast, the newcomer’s apparel was silver, making it easy to tell them apart. Not that it did her much good. They wrestled in the enclosed space, and a sudden need to move, to escape, overwhelmed her senses. She crawled backward, away from the brawl, only to collide with—
Another person. She’d forgotten Dark Armor had been speaking to someone beforehand. Said person—also dressed head to toe in silver—pushed up from a high-backed chair, brandishing a crude knife.
Her heart dropped at the sight of the blade—far too close for comfort. So, it was Dark Armor alone against these two.
What washappening?This was unlike any brawl or duel she’d heard about. She needed to get out.Now.
Before Isobel could move, though, the silver giant swiped her away with his boot. The shove sent her sliding sideways so aggressively she hit a wall with an audiblethunk.
The impact shook Isobel out of her uncharacteristic shock-filled state. Damn it all. She forced herself upright, untangling her skirts as the cramped interior echoed with snarls and violence. Just as she cast about to orient herself toward the exit, the one with the knife staggered a step forward, toward Dark Armor.
Dark Armor was fighting fiercely but hadn’t noticed the second opponent stand up.
