Dorian straightened as he finished and buttoned his pants. But as he started to turn, that shadow passed by again. A tingle ran up the backs of his arms. He flushed the feathered flames from his shoulders and stilled, letting his body sink into the abyss of the wood as he listened out for anything.
A single cricket, but no birds. Just the press of silence and the lone insect in his ears.
Dorian allowed the ash to rise on his fingers when he saw the shadow again.
"Hey Bin," he called out, only his eyes moving around him in the hopes if he stayed still, he would catch it again.
"What—you need help holding your cock?"
Dorian ignored the comment. "You have your scythe handy?"
"Why?"
"Because I think we're going to need it."
A branch cracked overhead.
Dorian's gaze snapped up.
The last thing he saw before he was on his back was a hooded figure dropping atop him.
Dorian groaned as he hit a root. The person knelt over him, their knife thrusting beneath his chin.
"Don’t make me take you back in pieces, Prince."
A woman.
Dorian started to snap back, but his words caught in his throat. Staring at him between the black covering over her mouth and nose and the darkened hood were blazing lavender eyes that caused his heart to still. "Who—“
Her head jerked up. Corbin swung down at her, but she caught his blade with the sword she pulled from her belt. She did it so quickly, Dorian had barely saw. Or perhaps it was he had been too entranced by her eyes to notice.
This woman was fast. And agile. She began to battle with Corbin, blocking his every move. Dorian pushed to his seat as they fought in front of him. At one point, the woman kicked up the tree and came whirling over Corbin's head. She kicked him in the face, and Dorian's Second fumbled off his feet. Dorian backed up. She turned in one swift movement and a knife hurled from her hand in the Prince’s direction.
Dorian caught it between flamed hands.
The woman straightened, and Dorian stared at the knife he'd caught. This was not of Blackhand make, but instead of raging cold silver. The smoothness of it felt like velvet beneath his fingertips. He knew the forges this blade had been made in.
This was a Dreamer blade.
His eyes lifted to hers. "Who the fuck are you?"
The woman straightened, pushed her hood off her head, and revealed her long silver-white hair tied in a braid over her breast, darker at her roots and yet an almost purple on the tips. She pulled the face-covering down to her neck, and Dorian gawked at the sight of the entrancing being standing before him.
She couldn't have been much older than himself, perhaps only a few years. Her light brown skin illuminated in the light of the sun as it bounced off her narrow jaw and high cheekbones, accentuating the apples of her cheeks. He could faintly see the dots of white freckles stretched across her brown skin. She'd painted a smokey black around her eyes, letting the lines fade into her hairline and slightly down her small nose. It was the mark of the warrior she intended herself to be. Her lavender eyes poured over him, tips of her bangs hitting at her long eyelashes.
He then noticed the tops of what looked to be four long scars beneath her jaw, stretching over her skin as though the Ulfram had tried to slice her throat open. And when she lifted her chin, some of her hair fell from over the point of her ears.
This warriorwasa Dreamer.
“What’s wrong?” she said as she unclasped her cloak and threw it to the ground. “Never seen a woman Dreamer warrior before?”
Dorian's mouth sagged as he gawked at her. “Ah no. No, I haven’t. Since when do women Dreamers learn combat?”
Corbin grabbed her from behind. His knife thrust beneath her chin. His arm wrapped around her chest and the other around her shoulders, daring her to move. She appeared so small against Corbin's stature. His arms nearly swallowed her whole.
"Should I kill her?" Corbin asked.
She glared sideways. “Think I can't take you, Belwark?” she dared.
