“It’s just me and my father,” replies Finn, and I marvel at how easily he lies.
“Just you and the old man, eh? Where is he, then?”
“On a hunting trip. He should be back soon.”
“Well,” another man says, “with Daddy gone, I’d say the proper thing to do is offer us some hospitality.”
“Of course,” says Finn. “Come in, and I’ll see what I can spare.” My blood runs cold as they push past him, storming inside. But there’s a dark curl in Finn’s voice I don’t recognize when he adds, “I hope you boys brought an appetite.”
Someone starts to respond, but the attempt is cut short with a gurgle. I can’t see clearly from my hiding place, so I don’t realize what’s transpired until a mercenary thuds to the floor and I see the knife buried in his neck.
Then everything happens all at once.
Finn leaves no time for reactions. His sword is out before the other two can charge, and I stop breathing entirely as Finn whirls, plunging his blade between the nearest mercenary’s ribs. The man topples as Finn yanks it back with a grunt.
The third soldier is all that remains, and he raises a longsword to meet Finn’s next attack, bellowing curses. Steel meets steel. As they lock into a duel, I realize that what I saw in the swamp didn’t do his skill justice. Finn fights with lethal efficiency, darting and feinting to match the larger man’s blows.
His movements aren’t just precise. They’re perfect. Every decision is quick and unyielding. There is no hesitation about what needs to be done. He could almost be dancing with the mercenary, executing choreography known only to him.
He’s doing exactly what I would have done in his place. Eliminating the threat. This is the inevitability I’ve braced for my whole life—a fight to the death. I just never expected I’d have someone to battle alongside me.
It’s over as fast as it started. When the last body drops, Finn rushes straight to the closet and yanks open the door. “Lyria! Are you all right?” As I shakily step out, apologetic explanation pours out of him. “I’m sorry that was so quick, I calculated that my greatest odds were if I struck while I could still surprise them….”
Restraint is beyond me. Apparently sanity is, too, because I leap forward and crash into him. Finn’s arms envelop me, his body folding against mine. We’re both trembling.
I scan with my Talent to confirm he’s uninjured. Then, with my face buried in the warmth of his chest, I choke out,“Consider us even.”
Finn stays to help me burn the bodies.
We work together in silence. I stack wood for the pyre while he strips them of their weapons, then helps me haul them over. His movements are deft, his expression hard and unreadable. When it’s finally over, we stamp out the flames to avoid attracting any more unwanted attention. I walk back to the porch and sit, drawing my knees to my chest.
I’ve seen death before. It’s not a memory I care to revisit, but the cold, lancing ache of guilt is familiar. And when I close my eyes, I can still see Mother’s face against the blackness, her revulsion burned there like a brand.
Monster.
“Lyria,” Finn says gently, rousing me from my thoughts. “If I hadn’t handled it, if those men had found youalone, they would have done the same to you, or worse. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I answer dully, my throat raw. Mother has always been candid about how women and girls pay the price for men’s wars. My gaze flicks sidelong. “You’ve done this before?”
Slowly, he nods. “More than once. Never if I didn’t have to.”
I feel dizzy. “Who taught you?”
“My family had swordmasters. And then I served in the military.”
Swordmasters. Plural. I add this to the information I’ve gleaned.Hunts for fyrehounds. Trained by multiple swordmasters.And the last, most distasteful fact, which now requires clarification. “You served in theVerdishmilitary?”
“Yes.”
My thoughts flash to Mother’s stories: the cities burned, the loved ones slaughtered, the people driven from their homeland by soldiers like him. Finn didn’t just inherit that legacy. He’scontinuingit. My stomach goes leaden, weighing this revelation against a lifetime of fear.
If they catch you, they will kill you.
Except Finn just saved my life.
I feel numb as he collects his belongings inside a travel pack I gifted him. Before departing, Finn embraces me one final time. When he pulls away, his eyes drop to my mouth, and he leans in. For one bizarre, heart-racing moment, I think he might kiss me—but his lips press against my forehead instead.
“I won’t forget you,” Finn whispers.
