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They stepped out from behind the bar, cutting off her way to the front door and the stairs. With her back to the wall, she didn’t have many options left. Should she scream for help? Would Aidric hear her? Should she attempt to fight? She had no weapon.

But then she heard slow, methodical steps echo through the room as Aidric ascended the staircase like a panther prowling for prey.

“Gentlemen,” he said with a smile that could cut. “Where are your manners?”

The men stood between her and Aidric and laughed. He joined in, a cold laugh that made her instantly tense. She knew how lethal he was with magic, but this would be a fistfight and he was clearly outsized.

Something simmered in Aidric’s eyes. They had turned dark mercury. Almost black. Even without his spirit signifier, he seemed to be pushing aside all other emotions so one of them could shine brightest: rage.

“Make you a deal,” missing tooth man said as he pulled out a silver pocketknife and shook the blade free with a flick of his wrist. “We’ll take your little girlfriend here and walk out that door. And you’ll let us because we both know no girl is worth your life.”

Aidric rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. His Shadowflame and all five signifiers were on perfect display. “How about this: You’ll let her go and I won’t have to kill you.”

One of the men nodded at Aidric’s right hand. “Showing off your little tattoos? They won’t do you much good here. Are they supposed to scare us or something?”

“No, I just don’t want to get my sleeves dirty.”

The men chuckled. “Go back home, pretty boy.”

Aidric lunged at the man with the knife and punched him in the throat so hard he choked and collapsed to the ground. The other swung at Aidric, who dodged his attempt, grabbed the man by the face, and pulled him toward the bar. Bottles and glasses crashed to the floor. Aidric smashed the assailant’s head against the mirror over and over until it shattered. Until blood sprayed everywhere. He was clearly dead, but that didn’t seem to stop Aidric.

Mira closed her eyes, hearing the continuous thud of the guy’s head against glass. When she blinked her eyes open again, the man with the knife had gotten off the floor and attacked Aidric, putting him in a chokehold. They struggled, crashing against the counter, and then he stabbed Aidric in the side. He groaned, bent his knees, grabbed the man’s arm, and dropped him over his shoulder to the floor. Still dazed, the assailant didn’t have time to get back up as Aidric kicked him in the head.

Mira moved from her position in the corner and walked slowly toward the bar, thinking they could leave now.

Instead, Aidric pulled the man up by his collar and dragged his limp body to the metal footrail at the bottom of the bar counter.

“What are you—?”

But she didn’t get to finish her question. Aidric stomped on his face with full force. The sound of his skull cracking made her sick to her stomach. Mira couldn’t see what exactly had happened to the man’s face, but blood pooled underneath him.

Aidric inhaled deeply, stepped over the bodies, and walked to the sink behind the bar. He washed his hands as if he hadn’t just brutally killed two men. She didn’t pity them—they had come to kidnap her, after all—but the sheer violence he committed had taken her by surprise. Was that what Obryn meant when he said Aidric couldn’t be saved?

He stood at the sink, looking at his reflection in the broken mirror. Covered in blood spray, his pale skin was a canvas to his violence. While her hands were shaking, he wasn’t even out of breath. He washed his hands and face like nothing had happened. All while pieces of flesh still clung to the mirror.

When he had washed off the blood, he ran his hands through his hair, adjusting the few strands that had fallen out of place.

“You’re injured,” she reminded him with a tremor in her voice, staring at the dark crimson on the back of his shirt.

“I’ve had worse,” he said, and took her hand, grabbed his coat, and led her out of the tavern.

When they reached the street, the cool air soothed her skin. Aidric walked with fast and determined steps. By the looks of it, he had lost a lot of blood. If she had access to magic, she could heal him within seconds.

Aidric led her in the opposite direction of his house, and she didn’t need to ask where he was taking her. This time she couldn’t disagree. Yharvan was no longer a safe place. In the magic sphere, he could protect her much better with his powers and shields around the estate.

As they hurried back to the forever stairs, she could still see specks of red in his silver-white hair and across his shirt.

The second they crossed the threshold past the fogbank and she could feel magic in her again, she told him to take a seat.

“No. We’re going to get you back to the estate as quickly as possible,” he countered.

“You might bleed out by then.”

He sighed and begrudgingly obliged. She connected with her Caster magic. It wasn’t at her regular strength just yet, still too far away from the magic sphere. But it was there and would be enough to heal a knife wound.

Her hand hovered over his left kidney. Luckily, no main arteries were cut. With a few spells, she healed the laceration.

The second she was done, Aidric pulled her toward him and flipped his coin, traveling them to the nearest magic gate. He was single-minded on getting them back to the estate as soon as possible. It was a quiet journey through several spheres, and he looked focused on his task.