But then his eyes narrowed. “Get down!”
I trusted him, dropped, and heard the whistle of the blade overhead. The guard flipped backward, came up again, and kicked the blade from the assassin’s hand.
“You’re good,” I said.
As if in answer, he grabbed my arms and pulled me toward him, an assassin’s blade splitting the air where I’d been standing a moment ago.
“I am,” he said with a responding grin, his body warm against mine. There was a hum in my blood that demanded we stay just as we were, to make this moment last. But we both saw the next assassin in line.
The guard turned me to the left, then kicked hard at the man, sending him sprawling.
I caught the haze of green to my left. “He’s moving toward the third carriage,” I said, just in time for the assassin to thrust his blade through one of the carriage’s closed shutters. Then he and the blade disappeared again.
More cursing from the guard. “I need you to be my eyes.”
My heart thudded like the drums atop the wall—a hard,insistent warning. But when he held out his hand, I offered mine willingly.
I tried to block out the frenzy of fighting and the market’s sharp shadows, and watch for a sign.
“Last carriage,” I said, and pulled the guard toward it, our fingers entwined. I dodged a human assassin as she turned her blade our way. One swipe of the guard’s sword and the assassin was down.
“Where?” the guard asked when we reached it.
For a moment, I saw nothing. Felt nothing but his very human heat. And then the air rippled and shimmered with color.
“He’s here,” I said. “Moving around us.”
The guard drew me toward him again, aligning our bodies. And instead of waiting for the man to appear, he took the offensive. He spun us around, whipping his blade in a complex pattern of slices and swirls.
The creature shifted in and out of visibility, trying to inflict damage with his sword and avoid taking any from the guard’s. The air was tinted green with Aether, the pain now a throb in my heart.
Sword met flesh, triggering a sound of agony as blood seeped into the dirt. The human appeared, his eyes now brown and glassy from shock. He stumbled back several strides, then crumpled to the ground. At the same time, the Anima made its exit—the ghost of a woman in a pale dress dissolving in a spiral of Aether.
The fist around my heart loosened its grip, leaving behind a dull, drumming ache.
There was another shrieking whistle, and the assassins stepped back from their fights, ran toward the edges of the market, and scampered away into the shadows of dusk.
The guard stopped, his fingers still at my back, breath fast from the fight. For a moment, there was only stillness, as if the stronghold had let out a long breath. And then sound began to fill the market again.
I stepped away from the guard, putting space between us. The moment was over, but my heart still raced, and I didn’t think that was all from the fight. There was no sign of the practitioner, nor any trail from the Anima’s departure. The magic, at least for now, was done, but for the Aetheric residue—like faint smoke—that drifted from the human’s body and the sword he’d dropped.
“It’s done?” the guard asked.
“The Anima’s gone. And if the Anima—or the human—were being manipulated by someone, their magic is gone now, too.”
“Because the Anima couldn’t do this on its own.”
I nodded. “There’d have to be a practitioner.”
“Quite a damned welcome.”
“I don’t remember any assassins or practitioners in the stronghold before your prince showed up.”
“Not a fan of the royal family?”
I wanted to tell the truth: The royal family didn’t care if we lived or died. But I didn’t think he’d be a receptive audience. “If you can’t say something nice,” I said mildly, “it’s best to stay quiet.”
Another guard, his dark wavy hair curling with sweat around his light brown face, approached us and looked at my guard with worry in his amber-colored eyes. “Nik?”
