Linn spoke, her voice quiet and low. “You have fifteen scouts surrounding us. I have found them all. What is the purpose of this?”
The girl’s mouth opened wide in glee; she gave a scream of laughter. “Oh, I like this, Ilikethis!” she yelled, and moved forward so suddenly that Ana took a startled step back. But she hadn’t missed the way the girl’s hood fluttered, revealing heavy bronze hilts of swords saddling her hips. “You really don’trecognizeme?”
“You’re with the Navy,” Ramson said.
“Yes, no, maybe so!” the girl sang, giggling, still advancing. “Oh, but here’s a clue: I certainly donotknow whoyouare!”
There was the slightest pause, and then the slice of metal as Ramson raised his blade.
The girl’s teeth glinted like fangs as she unsheathed one of her swords. Slowly, deliberately, she brought it to her lips and trailed her tongue down the length of the blade.
“Liar, liar,” Ramson crooned.
“Burn by fire,” the girl quipped, and sprang.
Ramson danced out of the way as his opponent lunged at him, sword flashing, the whites of her eyes rolling. She barreled past him with a growl, and he allowed himself a smirk.
Bregonians valued honor and courage—and their sword-fighting style showed it. A Bregonian Navy–trained soldier would have parried that blow head-on.
So Ramson dodged.
He’d spent the last seven years of his life training with Kerlan, sparring with criminals and cutthroats of all backgrounds and styles. When it came to swordplay, his versatility was his greatest strength.
But he never expected the girl to match his move.
With a deft twirl, she was attacking again, cloak slashing, the metal tips of her boots stabbing into the ground. She leapt and this time Ramson barely had time to raise his misericord.
The impact jarred his bones, steel screeching in his ears as he met her blow head-on. Ramson twisted, and with a second dagger pinned her blades between his.
The girl shot him a wicked grin over their crossed swords. Spittle dribbled down her chin, and her eyes had a wild look. “Who knew that seven years abroad would have turned you so weak,” she hissed, “brother of mine?”
With a scream, she shoved him back. Ramson stumbled, caught off-balance.
He’d known. A part of him had, at least, as soon as she’d dropped her hood. That long face, hawklike nose, and cunning eyes that cut like the darkest of ocean waters.
It was, without a doubt,her.Her face, stretched slimmer and crueler now, brought back memories—whispering alder trees, maroon walls, locked doors, the cold shoulder of a familiar figure. He’d only seen her face in portraits, those auburn curls and that quick grin now turned vicious, standing in the spots whereheshould have been.
That face had a name: Sorsha.
Sorsha Farrald.
Ramson repositioned himself, yet something in him had become unhinged, like an unmoored ship. The hilt of his weapon felt slick in his palm, the ground uneven beneath his feet. What was she doing here? The possibilities left him cold as they reeled through his mind. Had his—their—father somehow gotten wind of his arrival? The thought made him sick. No, that was impossible…unless someone at the docks had somehow recognized him, chances of which were slim.
Sorsha giggled. “By the look on your face, you’re probably wondering how I found you,” she said happily. “My Royal Guards patrol the port, but security is especially tight around Crown’s Port. When I saw you, I couldn’t believe my eyes—Ithought I’d made a mistake at first—but then that whore of yours called your name.”
Anger surged in him. “You—”
Before he could move, Ana stepped into his field of vision. Her hands were clenched. “What do you want?” she demanded, looking at Sorsha. Linn and Kaïs flanked her, their weapons drawn. “Stop right now.” She paused. “Or I’ll make you.”
Sorsha licked her lips and tilted her head. “Get the hells out of my way.” She pointed a sword at Ana. “This is afamilyaffair. You or any of your little friends interfere, and my scouts’ll shoot those arrows faster than you can blink.”
“Who the hell are you?” Ana snarled, and Ramson imagined she was assessing the other girl’s blood, fighting the urge to hurl her across the street.
If that happened, they’d all be dead within seconds. Ramson darted a glance at the rooftops above, at the hidden guards and archers waiting to strike.
He spoke before Sorsha could. “Ana, meet Sorsha Farrald.”
“Why so formal?” Sorsha shrieked. “Why don’t you introduce me as…yoursister?”
