The purple beast lunged out of the water, fin down. Dahlia tossed herself from the back of her horse, both hands on the pommel of her long dagger as the creature reached Loshika. This was going to hurt. She landed on the lizard’s back, using her momentum to stab the beast in the soft fleshy area of its neck. It snapped to the side as if to tear her from its back. Lia scrambled to stay away from its jaws, wheezing. She tore her blade from the beast and stabbed it in the eye. It ceased moving.
Panting hard, Lia gaped at the still monster beneath her. She couldn’t believe that had worked. Lia pulled the blade free.
How the devil had she managed that?
Ice water seeped into her clothing, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’tbreathe.
A large blue hand grabbed her elbow and hauled Lia to her feet. She managed to hold onto her blade. Her legs shook as Loshika rushed them to the bank, half carrying her. They scrambled over the rocks and away from the lake. Dahlia looked over her shoulder.
Three more lizards had made it onto the ice, their reptilian gazes on the women. They hadn’t left the lake.
“They’re not chasing us,” Dahlia gasped out.
“Because they’re not mobile enough for land,” Loshika growled. “What you did was foolish.”
Serenity hooted from a nearby tree, shaking her snowy feathers as if in agreement.
Lia didn’t argue with them. “Yes, but you’re unharmed.”
The healer huffed and pulled Dahlia into an embrace. “I owe you my life.”
“As do I.”
Loshika could have ousted Lia, but she hadn’t.
“The horses?” she mumbled into the healer’s soggy cloak.
“Fine. It seems luck is on our side.”
“Not for long.”
Lia shook as the cold registered, along with the stinging drifts of snow. Soon, if not already, she’d be the most hunted woman in the kingdom.
A king killer.
Chapter Four
Olwen
He leanedback in his favorite chair, the old supple leather molding to his large frame in a familiar hug. Olwen kicked up his feet onto the square ottoman and sighed, lacing his fingers and resting them on his wide chest.
A merry fire burned in the hearth of the royal study, casting the dark room with a wash of warmth and flickering light. His attention wandered to the right, watching the king’s cousin Eyri frown down at his tome-covered desk. Eyri was always surrounded by books, researching one thing or another. His friend pushed up the wire spectacles on his slim nose, not paying Olwen the least bit of attention. While the king’s secretary was irreplaceable, he wouldn’t have made a very good warrior. Eyri hadn’t even noticed when Olwen had entered the study; he’d been so engrossed with his texts.
Olwen huffed and shook his head before reaching for his own book on the marble side table beside his chair. While he was no savant, he enjoyed an adventure from time to time, especially... if it was romantic. A goofy smile adorned his lips as he crackedopen the romance he’d pilfered from Flyka’s secret stash. The female Haunt—the king’s elite—pretended she was above all things romantic, but he knew her secret. She loved to collect romances, which was why stealing her books brought him so much joy. She’d never accuse him of theft because Flyka didn’t want to admit she’d bought them in the first place. It was the perfect arrangement.
He wasn’t embarrassed about what he liked to read. Olwen practically flaunted it just to get a reaction from thevallosaround him. Plus, with the life he lived, there would be noniliave—wife—in his future. Everyone close to Olwen died. Plus, his mother had raised him to be a weapon, a blunt instrument for war. He would not risk a wife, so living vicariously through books would be the only way he’d experience any sort of romance.
It was a little pathetic, but he’d accepted it a long time ago.
Flyka burst into the room, the double doors slamming against the stone walls. Eyri jumped, and Olwen slowly set his book in his lap, eyeing the Haunt always adorned in her white armor that almost blended with her skin. She usually did not make such an entrance. Thevalleslike to skulk around the walls like a ghost. Nothing ever rattled her. Her eyes were wild and her chest heaved. Prickling at the back of Olwen’s neck began, and he set his book on the side table and stood.
Something was very wrong.
A pit formedin his stomach. “What’s wrong?” he asked gravely.
Her lips pinched. “An attack on Neve.”
“Is he well?” Olwen murmured, already moving to the door, Eyri hot on his heels.
