Blood pounded in Blake’s ears now. ‘Do it,’ she said when her sister looked at her.
Apparently Eda was not fast enough, because just as she got to her knees, the man kicked her in the back, sending her hurtling to the ground.
‘Careful,’ Blake said.
The defender responded by grabbing her neck and pushing her down onto the street too.
Screams rang out around them as the defenders tore through the crowd. The violence grew, the merchants no longer willing to stand idle while they were stripped and beaten.
Blake turned her head to her sister. ‘It’ll be over soon.’
The sound of a blade slicing through flesh made the girls flinch, and then blood sprayed Eda’s face. Blake jumped when a merchant man hit the street in front of them, blood gushing from his open neck. It ran towards Blake and soaked into her dress. Her breaths came shorter. She needed to get her sister out of there but knew any non-compliance would be met with deadly violence.
Chaos swelled around them, defenders unable to focus on a person for longer than a few seconds before another came at them.
‘Get ready to run very fast,’ Blake said, eyes on a nearby defender. The second he was distracted, she said, ‘Now.’
The girls sprang to their feet and fled.
‘Halt!’ someone shouted behind them. But they did not stop.
‘Head for the forest,’ Blake told her sister. They could disappear there.
But as they reached the edge of the square, more defenders spilled out of the royal borough, blocking their only exit. Blake had just a few seconds to decide their next move.
She grabbed Eda by the arm.
‘Put your hands up,’ she said. ‘We’re unarmed. They won’t hurt us if we comply.’
She was wrong.
The men approached with weapons in hand. One defender marched straight up to Eda and smashed the hilt of his sword into the side of her head, sending a spray of blood over Blake. Eda’s eyes rolled back, and she sank down onto the muddy street. Blake stood frozen, her mind screaming. She had done exactly what Harlan would have wanted her to do. Submissive, obedient, cooperative. And now her sister was unconscious on the street.
Something snapped inside her.
She reached into her pocket for her dagger, and when the same defender came for her, she sliced his sword arm.
No, she would not stand helpless while these men knocked women to the ground. She would not play the merchant while they abused the power handed to them.
When the defender came at her again, Blake ducked to avoid being caught and punched him as hard as she could in the groin. The weapon fell from his hand as he folded in half, and she snatched it up, moving to stand in front of her sister. Panting, she glanced over her shoulder and sucked in a breath at the sight behind her. It was like the scene from the beach when the sea warriors had attacked, but this time it was merchant against defender.
While the defenders had a clear advantage with their training and weapons, what they did not have was years of pent-up anger, a heightened prey drive fuelled by starvation, and an unholy need to protect the people they loved.
More merchants joined the fight, spilling from nearby shops and houses. The defenders stopped using the hilts of their swords and started using their blades, cutting, slashing, and driving their weapons through any man or woman who stepped into their space—armed or not.
Blake gripped the sword, daring the defender on his knees before her to take it back. ‘We had our hands up, for God’s sake,’ she screamed. ‘Why did you do that?’
He got to his feet, eyebrows fused together in one angry line. ‘Drop the sword.’
‘No.’
He drew his knife and lunged, thrusting the blade at her neck. She ducked and swung the sword, forcing him back. He came at her again and again, and she just kept swinging, her lungs emptying with the effort. Eventually he caught hold of her arm and moved to stab her through the stomach. But she was ready. She kicked his front knee so hard she felt the crunch in her own bones.
The defender roared, hands going to the knee, which was now turned at a strange angle. Somehow he kept hold of his weapon. She wondered if she had it in her to kill him. Before meeting Harlan, she would not have hesitated, but now taking the life of one of his men felt a lot like betrayal.
She cut his leg instead, the way she had seen Harlan do on the beach that day, and prayed it would be enough.
She felt someone behind her. Fuelled by adrenaline and fear, she spun, swinging her weapon, not caring this time if she sent a head rolling as long as her sister was alive at the end of it all.
