“Stop.” His voice is low, his predatory side fully inhabiting him now. Gone is my cheeky, pain in the arse brother. Straightening, I force my breathing to slow.
She’s fine.
Agnes will be fine.
“There.” Sorin points toward an alley pressed between the Sherwood Inn and another decaying brick building. Sorin takes off in a sprint across the muddy streets, his feet carrying him with grace. My jaw aches and blood still pools in my mouth from the brute who hit me, but I spit it out and follow him.
Jarek is close behind, his ax glued to his hand. My heart twists, realizing we’ve left those men for Park to clean up. And I know he will. His allegiance to my father and then to Sorin has always been strong. He respects them. Respects what they’ve done for villages like Loxley and Wickersham.
Steal from the rich, even more from the richer.
He’s too good a man, Park Mahaffey, and I make a mental note to repay him somehow later.
Sorin disappears into the alley, it’s dark from the rain but there at the end of it?—
“If you take another step, I won’t save her for the king. I’ll kill her here and now.”
As we get closer, I pull the bloodied dagger from my pocket. Jarek raises his ax, taking the time to give my shoulder a quick squeeze.
The hunter who took Agnes has a blade tucked under her chin, his back facing the opposite exit of the alley. Sorin alreadyhas his blade ready, I can’t see his face, but I can tell from his energy that he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty for a second time today.
“Let her go,” Sorin says, his voice breaking. Something in his tone reminds me of defeat, and for a moment, I’m terrified. If Sorin feels defeated, we most certainly are.
Then I remember who my brother is.
The first rule of poker, Sam, is to play your opponent, not the cards.
It’s a bluff.
Perhaps he’s trying to fool the guard into thinking he’s won.
Sorin drops his weapon, making a show by kicking it dramatically to the guards feet. Agnes meets my eye. There’s no fear on her face. Only eerie calm. She even smiles, like she knows just what Sorin is doing as well.
“And your friends.” The hunter gestures to Jarek and I. We drop our weapons onto the ground, splashes of mud flying into the air and landing on my boots.
“You’ve been spared your life,” Sorin says, his voice cracking, as if he’s torn apart by the situation and not raging mad. He truly is the best player. “Now please, spare my mother’s.” I can’t see his face again, but I’d bet his smirk is replaced by false tears.
Anything to win.
The hunter’s eyes are wide as his gaze bounces between our faces. I dare another glance at Agnes, and it’s then I realize what Sorin has done. He’s kicked his dagger hard enough to not just land at the hunter’s feet, but my mother’s feet.
Slowly, her foot digs into the muddy ground. Angled just enough under the blade that all she has to do is kick her foot up and it would spring in the air.
Clever bastard.
Sorin takes a step toward the hunter and Agnes but because he’s unarmed, the hunter doesn’t balk away as he did before. He doesn’t move.
“This Enchantress is under arrest.” There’s a sense of unease in his tone now, his eyes darting between us.
All these men who have been fed falsehoods the last five years still believe what they’re doing is for the good of the country. I refrain from scoffing, not daring to move another inch. Sorin hangs his head, his shoulders drop in false defeat.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Sorin whispers. The hunter’s grip on Agnes loosens slightly, distracted by his win. Pride is a devilish thing.
Play your opponent, not the cards.
Sorin looks up abruptly, his shoulders no longer hunched. My skin raises again, knowing just what he has planned. “I really am sorry.” This time, he nods and Agnes takes her cue.
She kicks her boot, the dagger balanced on top of it flies into the air. Before the hunter can make sense of what’s happening, Sorin catches it and takes the final step forward to the man that holds my mother. The hunter drops Agnes in desperation, as if hoping to defend himself, but he’s too late. Before Agnes falls to her knees, Sorin has the blade embedded in the man’s belly, digging it into him until he’s pinned against the brick wall.
