Now Brela’s greatest fear stood above her and they were helpless to save her. They couldn’t take on those three men, not like Brela could. She had already taken out Warley, had done severe damage on Ripley, but Elias and Farrah were no match for the three gods-blessed soldiers—even if he wanted to be reckless and charge forward.
“Whatisthat thing?” the man in blue asked, standing next to Valkip. Elias had to fight the urge to growl as Blue used his sword to tap at the Veil shard in Brela’s chest.
Valkip just stared, emotions flickering wildly over his face. Thank the gods he was distracted, or that Brela’s magic was still dulling his senses. The man should have already noticed Elias and Farrah’s breathing only twenty paces away.
“I thought they only wore jewelry. Somehow this one figured out how to burn it into her skin,” Crimson mused. “At least she’s still breathing.”
“You can’t actually believe she’s the Night Terror,” Blue replied.
“She is.” Valkip’s voice jolted the two men. He lifted his left hand, bloodied and dripping, but holding the last knife Brela had thrown. She had aimed that throw at him. Oh, gods, he hadcaughtit. “This is the same style blade as the one I found at Gerrart’s house. The other is embedded in Warley’s throat.”
Crimson knelt next to Brela, using a handkerchief to clean blood away from her collarbone. He tapped the shard before trying to wrap his fingers around it. Farrah shivered in Elias’s arms as the man gave it a tug, pulling with enough strength that Brela’s chest lifted off the ground. Blue gagged as Crimson dug his fingers in tighter.
“Enough,” Valkip growled, voice deep with anger.
Crimson dropped her and stood, studying Valkip. “Are you sympathetic to this Veil trash?”
Blue shoved the man back. “Watch your mouth, Lord Remont. We’re not torturing her out here.”
“She’s a Veil Worshipper and an assassin,” Remont hissed. “Maybe you should be questioning the skills of your Second Captain, Boelyn, seeing as he was more interested in getting this woman to spread her legs than protect the prince he’s sworn to. Maybe he’s workingwithher.”
“She tried to kill me with this knife. I’d sooner gut myself than work with that Veil cultist,” Valkip snapped, jabbing Brela’s weapon toward the man.
Lightning cracked along Boelyn’s arm in response. “Back off,” he growled, turning to Remont. “You might have orchestrated this trap, but this is still my king’s job. You’ll get your payment for this. The king has use for the Night Terror. We bring her to Aelstow,alive.” That lightning grip quickly latched around Valkip’s left arm, sparks meeting sparks before the Captain could direct his strike. Boelyn shifted into Valkip’s view. “I said back off,now. That’s an order.”
Farrah reached up slowly, prying Elias’s hand from her mouth as she turned to him. Elias shook his head slightly at her silent question.
What did the King of Severina need with an assassin? And why the Night Terror specifically?
Remont’s huff pulled their attention back. “Get her back to the prison wagon at my house. Keep to the trails through the trees and don’t draw any attention.”
Boelyn strolled over to Warley, using his boot to flip the body. His eyes widened. “Four hells, she did that to him?” Even Valkip looked startled at the myriad of cuts, bruises, and deep wounds on the man. Boelyn shook his head. “Gerrart’s trained soldiers didn’t make a dent, yet this woman didthisin a matter of minutes. You better make sure she’s bound tight, Valkip.”
Boelyn and Remont started their walk, leaving Valkip standing and staring at Brela’s limp form. His eyes darted between her, the blade in his hand, and Warley’s body.
He sheathed her knife at his belt as his gaze lifted, scanning the bushes near Elias and Farrah’s hiding space. They didn’t breathe as his blue eyes lingered uncomfortably long on the fallen tree they were crouched behind.
As carefully as he could, Elias tightened the grip on his sword and confirmed Night Carver was still hidden at his thigh for Brela to use if she came to. Farrah already had two daggers in her hands. Ready to attack if needed.
Valkip let out a breath and turned back to Brela, kneeling down as he checked her for more weapons, tied her hands and feet, and then lifted her into his arms. Not kindly, but as gentle as someone could be with a Veil Worshipper.
Farrah shot Elias a surprised look that was easy to read. Anyone else would have pulled her by her hair or legs, leaving her to drag along the forest floor.
Elias returned hand gestures; their silent communication.Follow, at a distance.
Farrah’s nose squished.Help?Elias frowned, but she pinched her lips together and signed.Ovir.
He shook his head. That was one promise that he would always uphold to Brela. Never enter into an agreement with Ovir. She was the only one who could risk her life with that man, and getting his help now would only be trouble. He’d make them pay for his help—a price theywouldpay, but would end up in the same boat as Brela. Or, worse, he’d send one of his other assassins in to eliminate Brela before they had a chance to save her.
Track first.
She chewed her lip, darting her head around the trunk to make sure it was safe to start following. Looking back at him, she squeezed his hand and signed.We will save her.
Brela had chosen to throw her weapon instead of use it on herself. There had to be a reason. She didn’t know they had been watching, which meant something had gone through her mind to change her decision. They owed her that chance at survival, even if it meant they would get caught. They would do it for the woman who had saved them a hundred times. They would do it for the woman who loved them so fiercely, even after everything she had suffered.
They would do it for the woman they loved back.
Elias nodded.For family.
