He goes perfectly still. “It's...you.”
I whip my sword toward his chest, settling the tip against him with inhuman speed and precision. The scales on my arm shimmer in the moonlight. “Who are you?” I demand. “Why are you here?”
“Why amIhere?” He takes a step back, looking me up and down. His gaze settles again on my eye, as though he still can't believe he's seeing it. “I could ask the same thing ofyou.” The last word is punctuated by a quick, vicious stab that scrapes along the edge of my blade as I barely manage to bring it up in time.
I leap back.
He follows, launching into a flurry of precise, punishing strikes. Even with Sesca’s power helping me, it’s a challenge to keep up with him.
After a minute, I change tactics; I let him push me back for a few steps, letting him gain a false sense of strength and control. My enhanced vision scans his body, watching every tiny move his muscles make, noticing the way his shoulder drops, body angling for an overhead swing…
When that next swing comes from above, I step inside of it, letting it graze my scaled arm rather than wasting energy on a full parry, and then I drive my elbow up into his jaw. He staggers. I sweep his legs before he can recover, and he goes down hard, landing on his back.
I lean over him, pressing the flat of my blade against the side of his neck.
“Little traitor,” he snarls, glaring up at me.
The word catches me off guard, and this must show in my face, because he gives me a nasty smile and elaborates.
“Servant of the Mouren crown, Reave's obedient little whore, all dressed up in his colors. I'd hoped the things we'd been hearing about you weren't true, but it looks as though they are.”
“I am a servant ofno one,” I growl. “I'm only protecting people.”
“People who deserve to be slaughtered the way this kingdom has slaughtered so many others.”
“No one deserves that. There are innocent?—”
“No one in this city is innocent.”
I grip my sword with both hands, digging its tip deeper into the ground, bracing myself more fully against it.
Movement catches my attention: a band of Dralsk soldiers emerging from the far tree line beyond the pavilion, torches and swords held low, moving in disciplined formation.
My balance falters for an instant, and Lord Faron uses the opportunity to roll out of my reach and leap back to his feet with practiced ease. His dark eyes dart from side to side, taking in the shifting lines of the fight, calculating.
Even with the power of Sesca's bond still roaring in my blood, I'm too outnumbered to win this fight.
But only for a moment.
In the next, reinforcements of my own appear, led by Reave. Dozens of Mouren soldiers fan out on either side of us while Reave puts a hand on my arm and pulls me behind him, stepping into a protective stance between me and Faron.
Lord Faron watches this with a cold, measured smile. “That's unnecessary. We're not here for her tonight—my liege intends to come collect her personally, in due time. As for tonight…” His eyes shift toward the palace. “We're here to settle another matter.”
“Are you?” Reave drawls. “Well, I’m dying to know what matter warrants this level of theatrics. Don't keep me in suspense.”
“You're holding one of our own prisoner. Release him to us now, or there will be consequences.”
“Consequences?” Reave lets out a cruel, dismissive laugh. His hand flexes, as though he’s about to signal something to his soldiers.
Before he can, Faron snaps his fingers, and three masked assailants emerge from the shadows, dragging a bound and gagged Kestrel between them.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The sudden, enraged surge of power that flows out from Reave takes my breath away.
“Take your hands off her,” he says. “Now.”
Faron shakes his head. “I’m afraid that’s not how this is going to work.”
