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In her vision, one so vivid and real, she was walking through Kos again, the sounds of the bustling streets echoing in her ears.
But this time, the avenues were different.
The colours were muted, the shadows lengthened, and the air was thick with a sense of foreboding.
Footsteps sounded behind her, but when she twisted, she saw nothing.
She quickened her pace, her heart pounding, but the chase grew louder and faster.
Now, at a full run, her breath came in short gasps. She raced down alleyways and darted around corners, but her stalker followed her in a relentless pursuit.
A hand closed on her wrist, pulling her back.
She whirled to see a silver-haired, chisel-jawed colossus.
He sported glittering argent eyes and a sardonic smile on his full lips as he loomed over her.
Her pulse lurched as she snarled at him. You.
He smirked back. Me. What brings you, SHärd blader, to Katáne?
You do.
Still with that shit?
His gentle hold on her hand fell as he stepped away.
With no warning, he transmuted into a winged beast, an eagle of great magnificence that she gasped.
He leapt into the heavens and hovered, challenging her with a smirk. Then, unleashing one of his koya feathers, he twirled it, waiting.
With a growl, she, too, launched into the air and withdrew her blades, flinging them at him. They whistled through the wind with such extreme force that her arms vibrated.
He dodged them with ease, the lift of his lips infuriating her.
Her weapons thudded back into her grasp as he flew in close. He captured her shoulders, immobilising her.
His head lowered towards her as if to capture her lips.
The jewel between his head glowed with luminous brilliance.
She lifted a hand to shield herself from it. Still, its light burst through her skin and sinew.
Suffusing her with a searing fervour and an energy surge.
She called out, jerking awake.
To the sun burning down on her through the open window of her chamber. And the heat of her blades, phasing in and out of their translucent matter state in her hand.
She twisted upright in bed, chest heaving, heart pounding. ‘Fokk you, Killen Sable.’
Chapter 9
As an athlete and shikari, Sana’a had found that the perfect workout wasn’t a matter of having more fun at the training.
Nor testing out the latest craze.
Honing her body had a direct impact on whether she won or lost, upped her slay count or not.
