“Nope, that’s me,” Aziza said, sliding along the couch so that she was another few inches closer to me. “I’ll take her out if Baz doesn’t want to.”
“No offense, baby,” Lev told her. “You’re plenty dangerous for me, especially with how you always say you wanna hurt me. But the princess Soravelle, she’s…” He shook his head and sucked a hit off his pipe, exhaling a curl of smoke. “She’s one of the most dangerous sänglures in centuries, if not the most. She’s got hundreds of kills attributed to her. She can probably kill with just her pinky finger.”
I snickered. I had never killed anyone solely with my pinky finger, nor had I had reason to kill hundreds, but I wasn’t about to correct him.
“I’ve killed more than hundreds,” Aziza said. “Probably thousands, at this point.”
“Sure, but that was in combat. She did her shit in secret. Killed people right under everyone’s noses.”
I frowned. How did he know about all that?
“Baz, get the fuck away from her!” Lev said.
“Calm the scorch down,” Baz said on a harsh growl that had even me wanting to obey. “All of you. I’ll explain everything in due time.”
His eyes were back on me. “What happens in four days?”
I debated the merits of lying, but I was better off with him knowing.
“My scar?—”
Lev gasped. “That’s right! She’s supposed to have a scar slicing down one side of her face.”
I scowled at him.
“By the Ethers,” Baz said. “Will you let her speak?”
Lev didn’t bother with chagrin. Bouncing on his feet, he lit his pipe again.
Feeling like I shouldn’t be sharing anything of substance with any of them, I sighed my annoyance. “A spell is concealing my scar. With the Fuerin Star eclipse, the spell ends.”
“And then everyone will know who you are,” Edwidge said. “Even if we don’t tell them.”
“Right. Assuming they’re willing to suspend their disbelief and guess I’m back from the dead after three hundred and thirty-three years.”
Edwidge whistled. “That long, huh?”
“All the more reason to kill her now, Baz,” Moncho said.
“Yep,” Night said.
“Dammit, no one’s killing anyone,” Baz repeated.
As one, his friends pinned their disapproval on him.
“I mean it. Sheathe your mordaris, Zi.”
She barked a dark laugh. “No way, Baz. We’ve all read the books about her. She’s bad news.”
“That’s an order.”
Aziza scowled at Baz so intently there was no way he’d miss her discontent, then slid as far away from me on the couch as she could get, and only then holstered her blades.
“Did you figure out who she was before or after you fucked her?” Moncho asked.
“It doesn’t matter one way or another,” Baz said.
Moncho laughed in disbelief. “You know it does matter. So?”
