“You’re making me look weak,” she whispered.
“I’m making you look like someone has your back. Besides, youshouldn’t be seen alone at night with a man of questionable character. It wouldn’t be good for your reputation. Especially considering how public a figure you are now and could be in the future,” Teddy replied, his voice barely audible.
She turned back to Fionn, resigned. “Where I go he goes.”
Fionn shrugged. “The more the merrier, I suppose, but it will be a little harder to be discreet as a larger group, not that I don’t love a challenge.”
Reever stepped out of the bar, chased by the sound of music and merriment.
“You’re coming, too?” Teddy asked.
“I go where he goes,” he said, pointing to Fionn.
Fionn just glared at him. According to the documents Uncle Evan had brought Stella from the harbormaster, the two men had arrived together a week before the start of the Solstice Festival. There was a strange tension between them that Stella hadn’t noticed before. Fionn was such a flirt. Stella hadn’t quite figured out how to tell how much of it was natural charm and how much was genuine interest.
“Where are we headed?” Stella asked.
“The docks,” Fionn said as they started down the street that led toward the sea.
The docks at night were not at all an appropriate place for a lady. Despite hunter patrols, it was a place of pop-up gambling dens, frequented by some of the least scrupulous people in Olney City.
Stella hurried along behind Fionn and Reever, watching as Fionn affectionately elbowed his friend.
They turned onto a narrower lane, darker than expected. The torches were spaced farther apart and the two nearest flames had burned out.
“That’s odd,” Teddy said, noticing at the same time she did.
Stella felt the same prickling on the back of her neck that she’d felt the previous evening a moment before she heard footsteps behind them. A rush of death whispers filled the air.
She felt the movement behind her before she saw it, ducking just in time to miss the swipe of the dagger. The assailant read her welland changed angle and Stella was forced to throw up her forearm to block. The blade cut right down to bone. She yelped as she jabbed out with her own dagger.
The man was cloaked in black, his face covered except for his eyes, but Stella made out a crest of a viper surrounded in flames on his shirt.
The Sons of Endros.
Bold of them to attack four competitors at once. The Gauntlet Games competitors should have still had a few days before their lives were under threat. Though, maybe the Sons had only said that in the hope of creating a false sense of security.
Steel clashed beside Stella as Fionn and Reever engaged with two other assailants.
She turned just in time to duck a sword swipe from a fourth attacker.
Teddy stepped forward and slid his dagger into the man’s side.
Stella refocused on the assassin in front of her. She put her hands up, clutching her blade and ignoring the burning pain in her forearm. Her attacker favored his right leg. Perhaps it was an old injury to the left, but Stella could use that advantage.
When she twisted past him, she slammed her heel down on his left ankle, and he grunted. He landed a punch to her ribs, and she sliced her dagger along his left side. Bright red blood splattered across her gauzy lilac dress. The assassin darted away from her, laboring on his left ankle. A muffled laugh came from behind his face covering.
“You don’t have it in you, girl,” he said. “You’ve got the skill, but not the will to take a life.”
Stella was terrified that he was right. She could injure him gravely, but she could not bring herself to kill him, even when she could tell he’d happily do the same to her. She’d played as defensively as she could, hoping he’d get discouraged or tired and make a mistake that would allow her to injure him enough that he’d flee. But he just kept coming.
Hot blood dripped down her arm, and she tried to keep her handelevated so it wouldn’t get sticky. She knew the wound would heal, but it was deep, and it was still a slippery mess.
A body hit the ground hard behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Fionn take down one of the men he was fighting. If she had short swords, she could have made quick work of all of these men, but with only a dagger and her half-drunk hand-to-hand fighting skills, she could hardly handle one assassin at a time.
A fist connected with her temple, and she stumbled, cursing.Pay attention. Suddenly, her reflexes felt too slow. Panic squeezed the air from her lungs. She was going to die on this darkened street corner as a message to the people of Olney, who just wanted peace.
The attacker came at her again, and Stella jammed her fingers into the soft notch at the bottom of his throat. He flinched. The second of surprise was enough for her to knock the blade from his hand and try to knee him in the groin.
