My sword clashed with my enemy, the metal ringing. I gritted my teeth, my muscles straining as I thrust and thrust, until I pushed him into retreat. With another swing of my sword, he faltered, thrown off-balance.
I shifted my weight away from him, opening a space between us just big enough to spring my blade forward, the point lined perfectly with the weak spot in his armor, just below his belly. I had him, right where I wanted him. Then … He blocked at the last second, his blade slicing against mine with surprising violence. Hand shaking, I was forced to readjust my grip. But the setback gave him just enough time to gain the upper hand, and thrust. I ducked low, barely missing the hit and raced behind his partner.
In the distance, I caught sight of the turion fighting sword to dagger with Auriel. The turion reached into his pocket, and retrieved something small as he continued to swing. A vadati stone. Shit! Shit! It was already glowing blue. If he connected the stone to another general, everyone in Bamaria would know I was here. And then, so would the Emperor.
“Auriel!” I screamed. “The stone!”
I ran forward, leaping onto the back of the soturion with the shaved head. My sword was already at his throat. He shook beneath me, and for a second, I almost faltered. Because what did it matter? Rhyan was gone. Killing this man wouldn’t bring him back. But then I saw Rhyan’s eyes in my mind, burning with intensity, and I heard his voice, as clear as when he first said these words.
If you need to defend yourself—strike first, think later.
I slid the blade across his throat, pushing in until he made a gurgling sound, and I jumped down, my boots hitting the sand the same moment he collapsed.
“Lyriana!” Auriel yelled, still in combat with the turion. “Behind you!”
Three more seraphim had flown in. The Godsdamned turion had already called for backup.
“Auriel! Take him down!” I screamed, just as the dark haired soturion returned for me.
“You bitch!” he growled, his black eyes moving wildly back and forth between me and his dead ally. “You fucking bitch!”
I raised my arm, bracing myself. There was a clash of steel on steel, and then another. My feet scurried back and forth furiously as I met each thrust.
“Who’s the golden boy?” he taunted, blocking my blade. He jerked his head toward Auriel. “New lover already?” His tongue dipped across his lips. “That’s cold. Heard that instead of Kane you were fucking Rhyan and he’s barely in the grave. What? He didn’t satisfy you? When the golden boy’s dead, can I have a ride?”
A rage burned inside and I screamed, rushing forward, taking the hilt into both of my hands. Caution was gone. Sanity, too. There were no thoughts in my head of fighting well, or even winning. I didn’t care. Only my anger and grief and need forrevenge seemed to matter. I needed to gut him. To make him pay. And I didn’t care about the price. It wouldn’t bring Rhyan back. It wouldn’t change things, yet, I needed him gone. I got close enough to land my hit. Too close to make my mark safely.
Strike first, think later.
I skewered him like I needed to, forgetting that my left was exposed.
But he hadn’t.
I screamed in pain as his blade sliced through my bicep. The cut wasn’t wide, but it went fucking deep—I swore I felt it touch bone. Fuck. Sweat burst at my forehead as I pushed through the pain, gnashing my teeth. And then my sword pierced through his stomach.
His eyes widened in shock. “No!”
I threw my weight forward until I felt his body give into my weapon, my blade slicing past muscle. Then there was a pop as the sword’s tip pierced through his back. Blood filled his mouth, and I held his stunned gaze until the light left his eyes.
“Lyriana Batavia!” came a scream. Another squawk. More seraphim carriages filled the sky, their wings casting shadows in the sand.
“Drop your weapons. Put your hands up.” The call came from above. “You’re surrounded. Surrender now and live to see trial in Numeria. Fight, and you die today.”
I tugged at my blade, but it remained stuck inside my opponent. Blood ran down my arm, dripping from my fingertips like raindrops. I leaned back, holding on tight and kicked his stomach. My sword slid free and I stumbled backward.
For a moment, the horizon tipped sideways, my vision blurring. My skin heating. Fuck! The beach had filled with seraphim, their carriages unloading more Kormac soturi.
A sudden scream filled the air. Auriel was still locked in battle with the turion, their bodies so close I couldn’t see whowas winning. With another shout of pain, the turion collapsed at Auriel’s feet, his eyes still open in death. The hilt of my dagger protruded from his chest. Auriel, despite using a smaller weapon, had managed to sever his armor.
In one swipe, he released the weapon. Blood spurted across the fallen general’s silver chest plate.
I reached for the sword of the dark-haired soldier before me, and then ran for Auriel, stopping only to collect the weapons of the other soturion I’d defeated. I was sweating profusely, and out of breath. My arm was burning, and there was a sudden wave of dizziness that washed over me. But I was determined to take every sword I could carry. We had to get out of there and we needed every resource we could find. The beach was filled with wolves. Another five rushed toward us on foot. Seconds later, five more leapt from their carriage.
“Come on,” Auriel shouted, his hand gesturing wildly to me. “To the seraphim! Run!”
I raced for it, wildly thrusting four swords into my sheaths and through my belt loops. With my uninjured arm, I strapped the last one to my back. I bit my lip to keep from crying as my arm continued to throb, the pain burning like fire. Drops of blood splattered, leaving a trail behind me.
In front of the carriage, Auriel reached for me, his hands firm on my waist as he lifted me up and pushed me inside. But already five soturi were upon us, swords out.
