Huck climbed out of the bushes. The rustling of leaves indicated Eira followed after, leaving me alone.
Ordinarily, getting past four guards would be easy. But incapacitating them before they could shout for assistance? Not so much.
Still, my plan was solid. I knew it would work. I watched from the bushes as Huck—with Eira invisible beside him—approached the door. Huck’s shoulders were rigid, his steps stiff. He was certainly no actor, but luckily, the guardsweren’t equipped to detect suspicious behavior, especially not in servants. The men barely acknowledged Huck as he strode through the door, throwing it open widely so the unseen Eira could trail after him.
Now, it was my turn.
I couldn’t rush the men; I was too far away. The moment I emerged from the bushes, they could shout for more soldiers, and it would be over before I even reached them.
But therewassomething I could do from here.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as I tried to conjure the panicked desperation I’d felt when Vikros had threatened Eira.
When she’d been stabbed.
When she’d almost died.
My chest tightened, and I couldn’t breathe. My hands curled into fists, my fingernails digging into my palms and bringing a fresh burst of pain.
Yes,pain. There it was. I clung to it, digging deeper, fists shaking… My fingernails broke skin, and blood trickled down my hand.
The air went still. I wasn’t sure how I could tell with my eyes closed, but something otherworldlyshiftedas my magic slid into place. My eyes slowly opened, and the world seemed darker. Colder. The sun had dimmed, leaving me in a shadowed wood.
And four blue strands glowed before me.
My mouth went dry as I stared at them, wide-eyed. Could I pull all four?
No. It had nearly killed me when I’d pulled Vikros’s thread. I didn’t think I was strong enough to use my magic on four people.
Besides, if I failed and left one of them alive, it would ruin my plan.
I swallowed hard, hands still shaking as I tried to maintain control of my power. Tracing my finger in the air, I followed the path of the middle line of thread—this belonged to the tallest, burliest soldier of the four of them. My fingers curled around it, and I gave it a single sharptug.
The man grunted and fell to one knee, clutching at his heart. His eyes bulged, his back arched, and he let out a strangled, choking sound. His face turned purple.
The other men held him upright so he wouldn’t fall, asking panicked questions to one another.
“What happened?”
“Can you hear me?”
“Something’s wrong with him!”
I smoothed out the man’s thread, watching with bated breath to see if my plan worked. I had never done this before. If I failed…
The injured man let out a rattling gasp, color returning to his cheeks.
“My chest,” he sputtered. “Myheart.”
“He needs a healer,” said another guard.
They all glanced at the one on the far left. Judging by his graying beard, he was the most superior of the four.
“All right,” he said. “You two, take him to the healer. I’ll stand guard until your replacements show up.”
The two healthy soldiers nodded in agreement before hoisting the burly fellow upward, draping his arms over their shoulders. After a moment, the three of them shuffled off, and I smiled in triumph. With an exhale, I let go of the power within me, slumping forward with a gasp.
After several deep breaths, I unsheathed a knife at myside and flung it toward the last remaining guard. It struck him in the throat, and I knew he was dead before he hit the ground.
