But he grabs hold of my arm, wrenching me to an abrupt stop. I go still, panic flaring as he faces me.
His eyes narrow, gaze dropping down. “What are you wearing?”
I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t get the chance. His gaze slams back up against my borrowed face.
His expression darkens with sudden menace. “You’re not my brother.”
The sentence is like a death toll. Each word ringing in my ears.
Trying to salvage my disguise—my life—I shake my head. “What are you talking about?” I grumble out. “Yes I am.”
His eyes flare, and quicker than I can react, the other twin—the one whose features I’m wearing—comes up beside us. “Friano?”
You have got to be kidding me.
The moment his gaze travels from his brother to me, I feel a noose tighten around my throat.
“What is this?” he hisses.
All around us, other Stone Swords have stopped to look in our direction as they realize something is happening.
I’m thoroughly caught. Like a mouse in a trap, surrounded by hungry cats.
The twins—the real ones—share a look, and then both of them slap their palms against my chest without warning. Magic spews from their fingers, leaving me itchy all over.
My glamour suddenly peels away, like one long strip of skin yanked off, leaving me raw and chafing.
“Restore something,” one twin says.
I stumble back, a pained grunt escaping me as my hand flies up to my ear. My fingers find the source of the sharp stinging sensations, and my eyes go wide at what I feel.
“And instill something,” the other one finishes.
The top of my left ear had been sliced off from King Carrick’s orders, but now, something has sprouted from it. Like thin, curved branches, it comes out of the cut cartilage to curl around the entire shape of my ear. Curling like…
“Looks like the little changeling has sprouted an antler,” the twin I’d pretended to be—Fassa—says. “And it draws attention to what she really is,” he goes on, staring at my cut ear. “A traitor to her own kind. Vulmin, an Orean-loving scum.”
Noises of disgust ripple out from the other Stone Swords, and my stomach twists into knots.
The other brother takes a threatening step toward me that makes me flinch. “You think I wouldn’t know my own brother?I could sense him even if I were deaf, blind, and magic-less. We are connected by more than power or blood. Twins have a sixth sense with one another.”
“Seems tedious,” I mutter, dropping my hand from my ear.
He doesn’t find that amusing, and his anger seems to stir up the soldiers, because I feel some of them behind me move closer. Anxiousness skitters through my limbs, my gaze flicking every which way as my body tenses.
“What do you want to do with her?” someone asks.
The twins look terrifying now, and I shift my body ever so slightly as they answer in unison. “Teach this Orean sympathizer a lesson.”
The soldiers move to pounce. I only have time to yank out the sword from my belt and swing. I slice through the arm of the closest soldier, and then pivot, aiming for the twin’s chest, but he’s pushed out of the way by his brother.
The Stone Swords descend upon me like rabid wolves.
There are far too many.
Someone slams their arm against my wrist, making my hold on the weapon falter. I flail and swing around, trying to stab someone,anyone, and I feel my blade hit someone’s armor with a rocky scrape. But then the sword is wrenched out of my clawed fingers, with a simultaneous kick to the gut.
I start to fall.
