“And why is that?”
“Because we don’t have any.” Vade had the nerve to smirk.
He was going to get them both killed.
“Off The Wooded Road and with no travel papers.” The man tsked. “Then you are aware of what we must do?”
When Orelia latched onto Vade’s bicep, his whole body went taut. He cleared his throat, then said, “You must arrest us. I am aware.”
She looked to Vade for an explanation, but his face remained impassive.
The men stepped forward, and Orelia was too frozen in fear to move.
“By the authority of King Aradonis, we, the Arbors, Watchers of the Wood, order you and your—”
“And you should be aware, gentlemen,” Vade interrupted with an eerie calm. Her hand slid away from his bicep as he lifted both arms so they were parallel with the ground. “That we have no plansto go quietly.”
The man to the left spit in their direction. “Useless words from a cocky bastard. These arrows will stick in that leathered armor of yours and start melting your skin before you can free one of your blades.”
Maybe they didn’t see Vade’s pointed ears slightly obscured by his hair to tell them he was no human, or perhaps their weapons were enough to take down any race, but the strength of humans was thin compared to fae. Orelia could feel the anticipatory violence permeating the air, radiating from the powerful being at her side.
“Perhaps,” Vade drawled, wiggling his fingers as if for dramatic effect. “But I do not need a blade.”
Shadows shot from his fingers, wrapping around the men’s throats. They dropped their weapons, choking and gasping for air as they tried to pull the shadows free.
Vade casually stepped forward, freeing his wicked dagger. His shadows had ceased their escape, wrapping the rest of their lengths around the men’s necks. Two fell to the ground, but the blue-eyed man remained standing, his eyes bulging.
Orelia covered her mouth with both hands, whimpering at the sight of the veins in the men’s heads that were near bursting. Blood began leaking from their eyes and spittle flew out of their mouths in stringy lines.
Vade loomed over his prey, his singular focus on the Arbor who finally fell to one knee. “I may not need a blade, but they are so much more fun.”
Before the Arbor could get to his feet, Vade slit his throat with a brutal swipe of his dagger.
She gasped.
The man flopped on his back, crimson spurting from a clean line across his throat. Blood shot into the air in choked gasps, spraying the trees in the human’s life source.
Orelia wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. The healer inside had the witch’s feet moving before she could stop them. She dropped to her knees and tried to steady the human, but he was thrashing too violently.
She couldn’t stop watching the man claw at his open throat. Blood vessels popped in his eyes, and he cried crimson tears. She’d seen various types of weapon-inflicted wounds in the brothel—lacerations on the arms, knife wounds to the thigh—but nothing like this.
“Just hold on,” Orelia said, more out of instinct than in belief she could actually help. She reached for his neck, but Vade grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the ground.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he seethed.
“I have to help him!” She looked back at the Arbor writhing in a pool of his own blood. Orelia tried to go to him, but Vade yanked her back.
“I didn’t slit his throat so you could save him, witch. Leave him be.” He held her easily with one hand like her struggle was that of a fly caught in a spider’s web.
She tried to stomp on his foot to get him to let go, but Vade anticipated her movement. He hooked his leg around hers and brought her to the ground, putting a knee in her back.
“Get off of me, you asshole!” Orelia clawed at the ground, sharp nails scraping the dirt. By the time she stopped trying to get up, the Arbor had gone still.
From her spot on the ground, she could see the others had done the same. Crimson soaked the forest floor, and the coppery scent of blood permeated the air. The only sounds for a moment were her ragged breaths and blood dripping from the trees and splashing onto the brush. The knee disappeared from her back, and Orelia sucked in a breath.
Vade whistled a jovial tune as he strolled over to the man who’d called him a cocky bastard. He crouched and wiped his dagger clean on the Arbor’s shoulder.
She couldn’t speak. Could hardly breathe. When her stomach tightened, she turned and retched chunks of eggs. After she’d left a pile of vomit on the rocks, Orelia wiped her mouth, and shaky fingers fumbled to get her waterskin free.
