We collided. I grabbed onto him, clutching at whatever I could, and yanked him toward me.
Pain exploded across my stomach. Something cracked. Breath burst out of me. He must’ve hit me.
Another hit. It felt like a horse had kicked me. My grip slipped, and I landed on my butt on the ground, a chunk of dark hair in my hand.
The world slowed to a crawl.
The Butcher raised his sword, and I saw his face, furious and filled with rage. He stared straight through me as if I weren’t a person but some obstacle he had to destroy.
The sword thrust toward me.
Green fire streaked across the cobblestones, like a jet of arcane napalm, straight between us. The front end of the Butcher’s blade slid off and fell to the ground.
The Butcher’s eyes went wide. He stared at the half sword in his hand and pawed at his wrist. Something popped like popcorn in my head. The Butcher vanished.
Twenty yards away, Reynald was holding a sword dripping green magic. Black smoke coiled from him, streaming downward to hug the cobblestones.
Green fire.
The line of flames died, snuffed out like the flame of a candle. A scar gouged the plaza.
When he strikes, the Fatefire flies off the blade and burns everything in its path. Every strike leaves a line of flames in its wake. The air reeks of smoldering flesh. The black smoke that rises from the bodies stings your eyes . . .
He was looking at me. His eyes glowed. I could see them all the way from where I sat. They were a bright, paralyzing green.
Behind him, Gort swung into view, walking over. He didn’t seem surprised.
I scrambled to my feet and ran for the house.
I pounded on the door of the house. “It’s me. Open up!”
The door swung open, revealing Kaiden and Clover. I yanked my coif off my head.
Clover’s face blanched. “What happened?”
“Leave the door unlocked.” He would cut through it if he had to. “Go to Clover’s room and bar the door from the inside. Do not come out. Don’t make noise. If Reynald knocks, don’t open the door to him.”
“Why?” Kaiden demanded.
“Do as I tell you!”
Kaiden opened his mouth, but something in my face must’ve told him now was the wrong time to argue. I slammed the door closed behind me and we took off across the courtyard to the inner door.
Ramond vi Everard, the Sleepless Duke, the Lord of Selva, wielder of the Fatefire, twenty-nine years old, six foot one, dark hair, pale green eyes that turned an intense, true green when he used his magic.
True green, my ass. It was a bright electric green that burned into your brain.
Of course he didn’t look thirty-eight. He wasn’t thirty-eight.
I rode a horse.
He sure did. The one with a skull face on its head.
I will take care of it.
And he did. The Dargans did a lot of business in the north. When Reynald took off his mask, Drugh saw the Sleepless Duke and he got out of there like his ass was on fire. That should’ve been a clue. Reynald was respected but not feared and that had been fear.
Trust me.
