“Not happening!” I am not going to lose her, even though keeping her by my side is fucking up my own mission. “And for all we know, they may be here for me.”
“Stop!” She takes hold of my arm as we round the corner and looks up at me. “I don’t think they’re here for you.”
“And you think they’re here for you? Why would anyone send such a big entourage out? What are you worth?”
Siralaine hesitates, glancing over her shoulder. “This is my fight, I’m sure. Maybe someone recognised me. They said ‘fugitive’, and that’s me.”
Who are you?
“Well, too bad. You’re my prisoner right now, and I need you. We aren’t splitting up. That’s final.”
“Then, let’s just split up to make it easier for us. I promise I’ll meet you on the roof!” she pleads, and for the first time, I think she’s telling me the actual truth.
But I’m not about to risk her life.
“Nice try, darling. But I don’t play games with liars.” I drag her behind me, blade in hand. “We finish this together.”
Her frown deepens, but she doesn’t argue. Suddenly, the wall to the left explodes, and three tall fae step through, their silhouettes framed in fire and smoke.
The leader’s voice is sharp as steel. “Step aside and you might live.” His eyes are already on her.
So theyarehere for her.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I reply lazily, but my grip tightens on my blade.
“King Morcant will have your head for obstructing justice.”
If that’s true, at least we share the same enemy.
“And what are her crimes?” I ask, my tone mocking.
“Betrayal. By order of the King of Elmeria, she is to be taken alive to face trial.”
Alive? How generous.
Yet I wonder what she did to be wanted by Morcant.
I tilt my head, studying them like scum beneath my feet, then cast her a quick glance, wanting to know if this really is true. She’s trembling, and her heart is racing. Her silence confirms her betrayal. And yet… I step in front of her, blocking her from their sight. My arrogance disguises what I refuse to name.
“You want her?” My voice is level, yet sharp. I raise my blade. “Then come and get her.”
The first lunges towards me, but he doesn’t manage to reach me. My sword cleaves through his chest in one clean stroke, his scream cut off in his throat as he falls to the ground, dead – his blood painting the ground beneath him.
There is no one I have yet met that can beat me in battle, and that isn’t about to change now.
The second fae tries to sneak up on me, his eyes blazing with rage. Flames curl at his hands, but I catch him mid-swing and drive my blade through his stomach. He twists and manages to take a swing at me. I kick the third aside, but he’s fast, countering and taking a swing with his sword. I jump back, moving Siralaine with me. It’s too tight in here to get much room to defend properly.
I block a few blows, our movements a blur. They’re more careful now, even the one wounded. He’s using his powers to throw ball after ball of fire in my direction.
They exchange a signal, and I tense, readying for whatever they’re about to. Then fire erupts from all directions. Without thinking, I extract my wings, unfurling them fully, shielding Siralaine from the fire. Through the blinding flames, I spot one of them darting forward and taking a deep stab to my right, but I’m a second too late, and it slices through me.
I snarl as I twist my sword and pierce it through his heart.
The final fae hesitates, shock flashing in his eyes, but it’s already too late for him. I close the distance, walking through the flames, pointing the tip of my sword under his chin before he can move.
I lean in, close enough for him to see the smile that neverreaches my eyes. “Tell your King,” I whisper, “If he wants her, he’ll have to drag her away from my dead hands.”
Then I slice through his shoulder, deeply and critically, but enough to allow him to deliver the message. He crumbles to the ground, and the flames die.
