Sorsha’s arm shook as she fought to keep the sword from her throat. The princess was strong, but this male was stronger.
My feet began to move before I realized that I would not reach her in time. The male’s blade was a hair’s breadth from her neck. Her face reddened with fury and effort as she pushed with all her might, but she didn’t have the strength to stop it from slashing her throat.
A scream caught in my lungs as the realization clanged through me. But then the male was yanked backward, and a long blade sliced through his abdomen.
My gaze shifted to the royal guard looming over the fallen princess, his face peppered with droplets of blood andgore. His eyes blazed with a fury that shook me to my core, and his mouth was a thin slash of violence.
For several heartbeats, he and Sorsha just stared at one another, the princess’s weapon quivering in her hand as she looked up into Adriel’s face.
A distant shout drew my attention, and flashes of red charged by in my periphery.
Alfrigg’s forces were retreating.
The roar of the fires blazing in shops and homes joined the whoosh of wings, and I realized the villagers were no longer fighting.
Some were sobbing. Others were heaving their last breaths in the snow. Still more ran by with buckets of water, attempting to douse the flames.
My knees wobbled as the stench of waste mixed with the sharp tang of blood and burned flesh.
We’d driven out Alfrigg’s troops, but at what cost?
This hadn’t been a routine patrol. They’d come to destroy the village as they’d destroyed Körkis. To murder Alfrigg’s own people — the Drathen fae who’d been forced from their homes after the Uprising.
An uncontrollable rage bubbled up in my gut, threatening to scorch my insides. This was not a village of warriors. They were blacksmiths, butchers, tailors, and innkeepers. Mothers and fathers and younglings.
“Tell me why.” Adriel’s voice was a low rumble in the dark, and I whipped my head back around.
Sorsha still lay in the frozen mud, propped up on one elbow. Adriel hadn’t extended a hand — hadn’t made any move to help her to her feet. His eyes glittered with a fiery rage, and I tensed when he turned to a fallen villager and pulled a sword from the dead male’s grip.
Adriel raised the sword as he turned, holding the tip to Sorsha’s throat.
The princess froze, but she didn’t drop her gaze. Her eyes were like two chips of ice as they narrowed on Adriel, the rapid rise and fall of her chest the only sign of her dismay.
“Tell me why these villagers are all armed with Drathen steel,” he demanded.
“They areDrathenfae,” Sorsha replied coldly.
Adriel held her gaze for a moment longer, a muscle feathering in his jaw. For one wild instant I thought he might cut her throat, and even Sorsha flinched as the weapon wavered in his grip.
But Adriel merely flipped the sword, catching it deftly by the blade. He jabbed the hilt of the weapon toward her, and the etching on the pommel caught my eye. It looked like some sort of insignia, though I was not familiar with the crest.
“This isn’t ordinary Drathen steel,” he spat. “These are military weapons issued by the king to his armies.”
Sorsha swallowed.
“I saw a dagger on one of the males at the brothel but didn’t think much of it. Not until I saw this.” He jabbed the sword toward her again. “None of these people were armed the last time we were here,” he continued, his voice shaking with the force of his rage. “So tell me,princess, why are they armed now?”
Eye twitching with fury, Sorsha shoved to her feet and closed the distance between them. The top of her head barely reached Adriel’s collarbones, and yet when she jerked her chin up to glare at him, she did not look small.
“How can you ask me that?” she growled. “After whatyou saw tonight. Or would you have me leave them defenseless?”
“What — did you —do?”
Sorsha blinked, and I could see her resolve wavering under Adriel’s glare.
She drew in a breath, wiping her bloody hands on the front of her trousers in an effort to steady herself. “There is no forge on the Isle of Cragsmuir,” she said, the words spilling out of her in a rush. “Probably so the Drathen soldiers don’t get it in their heads to rebel against the crown. Any weapons that are damaged or broken are shipped back to the continent to be repaired or replaced.”
“And?” Adriel’s voice was barely a whisper, but Sorsha flinched as though he’d shouted.
