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She gave him an enigmatic look. ‘Are you an aether magikus?’
For how else would he have sensed her blades?
His eyes iced into hard and cold flints. ‘Who I am is not important. But like I said, I’m not who you think. Since your mission has nothing to do with me, you must leave.’
He spoke as if insulted by her small, irrelevant attempt on his life.
Most times, she wouldn’t care what her mark thought, but somehow, this man’s disdain cut different.
She clenched her jaw, unwilling to leave.
Sensing her reluctance, he leaned in and growled, jerking his chin towards his companions. ‘My friends here are none the wiser to your actions. However, if they were to discover, or if any of what you’d planned would have played out, your tiny finger bones would be the largest ever found of you.’
She stepped back, glaring at him. Wanting so badly to slash at him, but even her blades were rebelling, freezing against the skin on her back and her shin, in mutiny.
You’re failing me now? she accused them in a silent scream.
She’d downed a Drákon Queen and her son, slayed a destroyer and half his army and avenged her family two-fold.
She was the scourge of a hundred moons. Her name alone was held in high regard among the most infamous shikari of Pegasi.
Yet here she was, toothless before an unarmed, hapless liege.
Who’d turned out not to be as ineffectual as she’d thought. Instead, he’d infected her and her blades with haplessness. Crappin’ snowcock!
He twisted his lips like he’d heard her loud and clear, his intense gaze cutting through her.
‘You may have slain drákons, Switchblade. But never forget, we’re not drákons. We’re more than drákons. We are the Ka?'m??r? Sab?r Hawks of Katáne. We have the predestined sight of Kag?an, so our enemy’s steps are foreseen.’
He looked away into the distant starlit night. ‘Pity, for we only sense the xkénos and are blind to the rulers, authorities, and cosmic powers over Katáne’s present darkness.’
Her forehead furrowed, and she tilted her head, studying his chiselled profile in reverie.
He swung his large head back to her, serving her with a slow smile that was seductive yet menacing. ‘Leave now, fair Sana’a. It’ll be the wisest thing you do all evening.’
She took a step back with care at his low rasp, clenching her fists, alert for any sign of a counterattack. ‘I won’t give up. If not now, later.’
He lifted a brow. ‘Have at it, beautiful.’
Sana’a narrowed her eyes. ‘Underestimate me. That’ll be interesting.’
She turned to stride away past the tall, lean Kione, who’d disengaged himself from the woman hanging onto him.
He stepped into her path, and she stopped short, giving him a cool glare.
He ignored her ice, his keen eyes flicking over her stiff posture and straight back. ‘Is Kill sucking the life out of your evening? He can be rough-faced and fervent.’
Her breath hitched, vexed but powerless to do anything about it. ‘He’s not designed for fun.’
‘I’m too much of a blood-siphoning várkolák for her,’ the man she’d just failed to blade added with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I killed off her chances with me.’
She sliced her eyes to his, flashing with anger. ‘Which only proves that no matter how far I lower my standards, some always find a way to dip further.’
‘I could say the same,’ Kill clipped, his silver eyes glittering as if piercing between truth and falsehood.
Kione swivelled his head curiously from one to the other, his mouth smirking at the tension crackling in the air.
Exasperated, Sanaa stepped away, picking her way to the edge of their section.
