“We?” Dario echoed.
The stranger nodded, and a surge of understanding washed over Elara like a cold wave. “You're a Script Keeper?” she breathed, disbelief lacing her tone, and Dario tensed beside her.
His eyes flashed. “Fen and Godfrey, too. They were some of the last Keepers we had in Osin'semploy.”
Elara wasted no time. “Why did they steal my blood?” Her directness didn't seem to faze him.
“They flouted orders.” His jaw tensed. “Thought they could—” He cut himself off, looking over at Dario before shaking his head as if to dispel the memory. “It doesn't matter anymore.”
Elara saw a flicker of something in his gaze—remorse, perhaps?
“What does Godfrey want with Elara?” Dario asked, practically buzzing with unease. He looked ready to bolt.
But the stranger didn't address him, didn't even look at him. He only had eyes for Elara. “He wants to save you.”
Footsteps thundered down the alley as figures clad in raven masks appeared, their silent numbers swelling behind the stranger as if conjured by ether.
Dario's grip tightened on Elara, his body instinctively moving to shield hers, but a heartbeat too slow. A masked assailant emerged from the dim, his sword raised high. And with a ruthless swing, it came crashing down, its pommel connecting with a sickening crack against the back of Dario’s head.
Elara screamed, reaching for him as he collapsed, but the stranger yanked her back against his chest. She thrashed in his grip as one of his men knelt beside Dario and forcefully rolled up his sleeve, revealing the totem beneath.
“You were right. He's got one.”
What?
Elara's gaze darted from wrist to wrist, a tight knot of dread coiling in her throat with each glimpse of bare skin where a tattoo should have been.Vredians.
The stranger's grip tightened. “Cut it off.”
Elara's breath caught in her throat as the man holding Dario swiftly pulled out a knife, but, instead of removing the totem, he sliced off the map of stars tattooed just below it.
Blood spurted from Dario's wrist, and Elara tore herself free from the stranger's loosened grip. “Get away from him!” she snarled, pressing one hand against the wound to stem the flow while the other frantically searched Dario's bandolier, fingers closing around the hilt of a dagger.
“He'll survive,” the stranger said, his tone dismissive enough to make her see red. He gestured to one of the taller figures in a raven mask, then looked back down at her. “Save your concern. He was no true friend to you.”
Rage ignited within Elara, her grip tightening on Dario's dagger. She was no fighter; her understanding of blades limited to the basic idea that the pointy end was meant for the enemy. And this man... he was most certainly herenemy.
Her heart thundered, a rush of heat flooding her veins as Elara lunged at the lanky figure advancing. Her attack was awkward, untrained, and he swiftly parried it with a casual flick of his forearm. The dagger slipped from her fingers, spinning perilously close to her leg before it clattered to the ground.
The stranger’s face twisted into a scowl. “You'll likely end up stabbing yourself before you get a hit on anyone else if you can't even keep a grip on your weapon,” he snapped, striding toward her. “Bryn,” he barked out sharply. A figure stepped forward, tearing off their mask to reveal a woman with deep auburn hair and round brown eyes that glinted in the dim light.
“We can't rift,” she said. “There are new wards set up. I—it must have just happened.”
The stranger blew out a sharp breath. “He knows she's missing. We need to move—now.”
Elara pulled against his hold. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He met her gaze, his eyes deep and earnest under his lashes. “Look, I get it, Hallowed. You've got no reason to trust me. But believe this—I don't want to hurt you." He squared his shoulders, a determined stance that matched the resolve in his voice. "I'll do whatever it takes to get you out of here. Work with me, and we can make this easier on both of us.”
Yeah, not happening.
Elara kicked out, aiming for his shin, and his sigh morphed into something like a growl. “Gideon!”
“Got it!” the tall one snapped as he moved swiftly behind Elara, his hands clamping onto her face. Before Elara couldeven flinch, a bitter tonic was forced down her throat, sending a shiver rippling through her body.
It started as a faint stirring—a barely noticeable tickle of unease at the crown of her head that snowballed into a wave of dizziness. The sensation spread through her body, turning her insides into a churning vortex. She took a shallow breath, her chest tightening as the lanterns overhead merged into a blur.
“Dario.” The whisper barely escaped her lips.
