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Turning his mind into a roiling ocean, churned by the relentless onslaught of visions and premonitions.
Each one, a wave crashing against the shore of his perception.
This was wild.
She was wild.
Her blade force was off the charts, Killen mused to himself.
When she’d almost daggered him on Eden II, he’d looked into her.
She was rumoured to be behind the assassinations of at least four high-ranking targets.
Among them, a Galician politician, a Falasian general, and a Dunian chief federal prosecutor, all believed to be embroiled in rampant corruption.
One liquidation of a rogue Rhesian prince had involved Sana’a sauntering into his palace and offering a prize gift from the King of Rhesia himself. Upon being invited in, the package opened to reveal her blades, which ripped apart her enemy target while she sauntered out.
She’d fought alongside freedom warriors and, as he’d found from reading her mind, killed a Drákon Queen.
There was no doubt. She was a kickass hashashin, an assassin, a blader of the highest order.
Maybe Sana’a was the shikari he needed to prime him for the battles he dreaded ahead.
‘Katáne has never seen anyone the likes of you,’ Kaniz murmured as she led Sana’a through the bowels of the arena. ‘The fact you fly without wings and conquer sans koya is blowing our collective minds.’
Behind them, the still stunned crowds bayed and roared as chaos ensued in the schill lenders’ booths.
‘You’ve caused quite the commotion, like none we’ve experienced before,’ the k?thi master continued. ‘Kysin has remained undefeated for years and only descends from his monastery once a year to gather his sure-fire winnings, so you’ve lit some serious flames with your win. They’re creditors calling for your neck.’
Sana’a clutched the shotel in her hand tight, still tense from her skirmish with Killen freakin’ Sable.
‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’ she murmured, distracted.
Kaniz chuckled. ‘Naam. Our savvy sponsor placed schills on both of you, but she’ll be pleased to make bank on you regardless just because you’re in my kísímí k?st. On that note, she’d like to meet you. Now.’
Sana’a gave Kaniz a surprised look. ‘What the hell? I’m not respectable.’
Her metsai suit was streaked with dust and blood, her hair wild and caked with sand and sweat.
It had been a vicious bout, and her body ached. She longed for a hot shower and a fokkin’ whiskey, not for a small talk session and being paraded around like a prize cockerel.
‘You’ll be fine,’ the master said. ‘She’s used to her k?thi fighters looking battle-worn.’
‘You were magnificent.’
The soft voice came from behind the pair, causing them to pivot.
Sana’a’s eyes fell on a woman with an effortless braided gilded krest that fell in a wave down one shoulder.
The newcomer also wore a simple slip dress that hinted at lingerie and was embellished with a drop waist, lace, feather trim, and micro-pleats.
Although it screamed schill-dripping wealth, it was far from the elaborate ruffles, oversized bows, and glittery feathers Sana’a had spotted in the arena.
Her bright blue eyes were radiant and lively. Her mouth curved into a smile.
She reached out a hand. ‘Kesia Djan.’
Sana’a shook her hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’
