‘Will,’ she said under her breath as she turned, her back pressing into his as she watched the men approach.
‘I know,’ he murmured. His hand caught her elbow as she went to draw her knife. ‘Why don’t we have this conversation alone,’ Will suggested to the attackers. ‘Aya, I’ll meet you back at the palace.’
The man with the bow laughed, and Aya heard the string creak as he pulled it tighter. ‘We’d be happy to let the lady go. Our issue is not with her.’
But Aya shifted on her feet, her arm sliding out of Will’s grasp as she drew her blade. A silent reminder of the oath that had bound them. And perhaps more – a hand extended, should he want it.
‘Rare you’re not using that blade againstme,’ he muttered.
‘Truly a first.’
Aya moved, throwing her knife with deadly precision. The man across from her didn’t even have time to scream as it lodged in his throat, his blood spraying his companions as he fell. She heard the arrow loose, but she and Will were already moving. Will took down the man with the bow, his scream cutting off as quickly as it started as Will’s affinity hit him. Aya rushed the two approaching men, sliding under the swipe of one’s sword as she snatched her blade from the dead man’s neck and slashed it across the gut of the other rebel. His eyes bulged as he clutched his innards, his knees hitting the cobblestones with a sickening crunch as he slumped to the ground.
Two more rebels charged down the street, but Aya whirled, her attention on blocking the blade coming for her neck. She deflected the blow with a grunt, her knife swiping up, thesharp point piercing just under the man’s ribs. He staggered, his weight heavy on her as he slumped over. Aya shucked him off, her knife twirling in her hand as she faced the oncoming men.
A shout of pain rang out from near the fountain, and Aya’s gaze cut straight to Will as he clasped his side, his fingers dark with blood. Two men lay dead at his feet, but another three were before him, one with a sword heading straight for his throat. Aya threw her knife without a thought, the blade lodging in the man’s eye. He let out a piercing scream, his hands clawing at his face as Will thrust his sword into his chest.
An arm wrapped around Aya’s neck, the pressure tight enough to steal the air from her lungs as she was dragged backwards into a firm body. She felt the tip of a blade just below her ribs. Will turned, eyes flaring with rage, but he stumbled as his hand clutched his side.
‘Do it, you coward,’ Aya rasped to her captor.
The man’s breath was hot on her neck as he laughed. ‘I want the little shit to watch,’ he said. The two rebels near Will grabbed him by the arms and forced him to his knees. He struggled, his teeth bared, but it was no use. One grabbed his hair and yanked, forcing his gaze to Aya. Will’s eyes were wide, his breath coming in wet pants.
‘Aya,’ he wheezed. ‘Use it.’
Her power. Because his … his could not get them out of this. Without the tonic, Aya could feel that tempest inside of her, begging to be unleashed. To decimate the rebels, the plaza, perhaps the entire world. It would kill them all.
‘Aya!’ he rasped again.
‘Duck.’
It was instinct that had Aya following the cold command that rang out from somewhere behind her. Instinct that hadher head jerking to the side as an arrow whizzed through the air and sliced clean through her captor’s throat. His body was a crushing weight as they both fell to the ground, the sound of running footsteps filling the plaza.
The City Guard had arrived. And from the hoarse shouts she heard echo across the space, they’d captured the remaining three men.
Aya pressed her palms into the cobblestones, her arms shaking as she tried to lift the man off her. His weight suddenly disappeared, and hands gripped under her arms, hauling her to her knees.
‘Are you hurt?’ Will’s voice was sharp, his hands skimming her face, her arms, her side – each place caked in the rebels’ blood. She knocked his hands away and pressed her palm against his wound, the warmth of his blood coating her fingers at an alarming rate.
‘Aya.’
‘I’m fine.’ She glanced up to see Aidon before them, bow in hand. ‘Thank you.’
The prince nodded, but his brow furrowed as he took in the blood covering her hand.
Aya fought to keep her voice steady as she pressed her hand tighter to the wound. ‘He needs a healer.’
Will covered her hand with his own, his eyes fixed on her face. ‘I’m fine,’ he parroted, a weak smirk on his lips. But his weight shifted from where he sat on his heels, his body tilting to the side. Aya wedged her shoulder beneath his, not daring to move that hand against his wound.
‘A healer, Aidon. Now.’
49
The liquor burned as Aya sipped it, but it did little to settle her as she stood on Will’s balcony, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the sea.
‘The pain will linger,’ the healer had warned. ‘He’s lucky to be alive.’
Aya glanced at her left palm, where her oath once was. The skin was raw from scrubbing off the blood.
