Kai drove her knife into a chest with a crackingthudand pushed the male off with a kick.
Beside her, Otekah opened a male’s throat with two blades, one in each hand, crossing at the middle. His blood soaked her forearms and face. She bared her teeth through it, feral.
In what felt like a single blink, only one enemy remained. The Rising Moon male’s breath came in quick inhalations, his attention darting to each of the approaching females.
“Wait,” he begged.
Tiponi punched him in the throat. Pamuy caught his leg with her boot.
He fell hard, his weapon clattering to the floor.
He scrambled to rise, only to get to his knees and find Poloma’s spear waiting at his throat.
She didn’t drive it in. Not yet.
Otekah seized a fistful of his hair and jerked his head back, blood-painted teeth bared inches from his face.
Niabi stepped forward. Silent. Expressionless.
A vengeful wraith.
She wrapped an arm around him from behind, knife in hand, and drew it clean across his throat.
He choked. Dropped. Bled.
None of them flinched.
And as one, they all took a single step back. A ritual. A reckoning.
Kai took her first full breath and surveyed the damage.
Amid the blood and bodies were two slain matriarchs: Bronze Raven and Crimson Wing. Leaders. Symbols of clan legacy. Cradled by survivors.
“They went after the matriarchs,” Kai said hoarsely. Her voice barely carried. Seven more were unaccounted for. “We need to find the others.”
But her numbers were small—Usti had seen to that. More than half her warriors were too ill and weak to be of any use. Those who remained would fight, would do their duty, but this war would be hard-fought. More would die this night.
A hush fell. Complete. Terrifying. Absolute.
From the mouth of a tunnel, they came. Silent warriors. Hooded. Armed. Unfamiliar.
Kai tightened the hold on her blade.
This army wasn’t hers.
Chapter
Forty-Five
Outside the gates, the Perean people stood like an army, cobbled together by fear and stubborn grit.
As their wall of bodies and weapons tightened, doubt wound through Dimitrios like creeping briar. He should have listened to Nikolas. Stayed behind the gates where he was safe.
Then, one man took that side-step. Then another. And another.
The crowd parted, granting him ample room to stand among them.
Dimitrios turned in place, meeting each sweat-slick face, absorbing the anger. The fear. But also…
