Red liquid dribbled from the corner of the long-haired man’s mouth. As the sound of familiar tings rang through the air, the long-haired man toppled forward like a tree.
Landyn was barely able to move out of the way as Boucher’s man landed beside him. The long-haired man sprawled next to him, face down and unmoving. Confused, Landyn eased himself to a sitting position. A red bloom spread across the back of the man’s black tunic.
The tings continued around him, and he looked up.
It was like a dream. It didn’t seem real. Raven blocked a strike from the king’s man, the only man standing. All of Boucher’s thugs lay on the ground.
Landyn shook his head, trying to comprehend. Was he dead? How could this be happening?
He watched the swordfight for a moment through a narrow tunnel of vision. Raven moved with grace, dodging the swings of the king’s man. She was a small target, and she was quick. Her motions were like a dance. She ducked one swing and lunged in, catching the king’s man in his side, where he wore no chainmail armor.
She was good.
She pulled her sword free, and the king’s man clutched his side, staring at her in shock before dropping to his knees and finally to the ground.
She was very good.
She glanced around the room, grasping her sword. Thin, shapely, confident. She looked like a Greek goddess of war, beautiful with death all around her. Then she locked eyes with him.
Landyn’s world spun. It was as though a bolt of lightning shot through him.
Raven had saved his life.
