The man, smirking, gave up half a step in retreat, hands raised.
Selene narrowed her gaze. “No need to be here at all. Your fight isn’t with me.”
Thorne raised his chin. Studied her wide, ready stance. Her blade positioning. He smiled. “Miss Marinea… I’m well aware of who my opponents are.”
“Then you’re similarly aware of who my closest allies are.”
She had no idea where any of them were at the moment, but surely a Blade or two were already aware of what transpired here.
“The Blades?” He motioned toward the heart of the market, then the docks, where the call of bells still rang. “The pirates? All diverted elsewhere.”
Augustus. Oskar. What of Dimitrios? Was he in danger as well?
Petrina shifted behind her. “Looks like we’re on our own,” she muttered. “Great.”
A merchant stepped around his stall and strolled directly into Thorne’s eyeline. Myron…he had a wife, six children, and four grandchildren, and his bread was the best available in the market. He was also formidable in size, though she knew him to be one of the most gentle men in Praevia.
Myron locked eyes with Thorne. “I happen to be free at the moment.”
As if commanded, several more merchants and locals filtered into the open space.
Selene knew them all. Their families. Their struggles. More importantly, she knew their hearts. They were too kind for this. Too fragile. Too important to so many others.
Still, they surrounded the gathering of pirates on all sides.
Thorne scanned his surroundings with an amused slant to his mouth. “I commend you all, however, this isn’t a fight you want.”
Selene stepped closer, steel sliding into her spine. “Leave them alone.”
“Or what?” Thorne dipped his chin to peer past his dark lashes and harsh browline, all trace of mild humor having vanished. “Come quietly.”
A small knife appeared in Myron’s hand. “She’s not going anywhere with you, pirate.”
Identical sentiments moved bravely around in a circle from every Perean who’d dared leave the safety of the shadows.
Selene spun a slow circle to acknowledge them all, tears burning the backs of her eyes.
All her life, she had stood in front of danger alone. Now there were voices beside her. Knives. Shields. Flesh and bone. A wall of people who saw her as worth saving.
Why? She hadn’t earned this. Not really. She’d been a slave. A prisoner. A secret.
Myron motioned Selene over with a pair of fingers. “Come to me. We’ll protect you.”
The pirates laughed.
Thorne slanted a grin. “I offered you a peaceful way out.”
The air around Thorne rippled strangely, like heat off stone. Wingbeatswomp, womp, wompedoverhead, and an unnaturally long and deep shadow fell across the cobbled stones. Black feathers rained from the sky like scattered curses.
Petrina looked up?—
Selene only had eyes for the man before her. She took that step. Accepted the threat. For once, she released all thoughts of Augustus, her training, her doubts. She thought of the baker’s hands. The fisherman’s limp. The wails of newborns in their mother’s arms.
She thought of belonging.
And chose violence.
In the circle around her, swords sliced from scabbards, and the cry of battle bellowed through the street.
