Reba smiled. “Austin.”
Inx’s attention jumped toward the estate. He pressed Eli on the side, and Eli hopped up, shaking off sand as he trotted to Austin.
“I have got so much gossip,” Eli hissed.
Austin turned with him toward Char, who was fast-walking toward them with a look of mild alarm. Inx looked as though he was readying an excuse to avoid paperwork, but tensed when he glimpsed Char’s face.
“What’s wrong?” Inx asked, stepping forward.
“Oran has just come in,” Char reported. “It seems he took it upon himself to gather some new recruits and follow up on alead to one of Tristan’s enquiries… He’s brought that lead here, and they are not happy about it.”
Inx’s expression was level, but there was something in the air about him that had Austin paying close attention when he spoke. “Who was brought in?”
Char pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s dragged in someone from the monarch’s court.”
Inx cursed and moved at once up the beach. “Where are they?”
“The pit.”
Austin followed.
Inx glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not sure what the situation is. It might not be safe.”
“I have a guard. I assume you’ve trained him well?”
Inx met his eyes briefly. That glimpse likely told Inx that further arguing would be useless and, if his tone wasn’t right, poorly received.
Reba stuck close to Austin, his wing both windbreaker and umbrella as the force of the wind picked up and the drizzle turned into a gentle downpour. Glowing blue stones lit the estate walkways, the torches guttered out by the elements.
A yelp echoed off the walls, followed by a growl. Inx picked up a run, racing ahead into the training pit. Reba stayed next to Austin, all puffed out.
The situation in the pit didn’t seem all that different from the training Austin had witnessed over the past few weeks. Oran and two Troop members circled an unfamiliar creature. Inx joined them, taking up a wooden training stave. Austin frowned at the choice. There were real weapons in the pit.
A long black tail lashed in the air behind the stranger, whip-thin and tufted at the tip. It whistled like a weapon at each lash, and bright red welts decorated the Troop’s arms. The black, poisonous spines that usually stuck out from beneath Oran’sjaw, previously damaged by Inx, were now completely shattered. The stranger brandished a short sword, its edge glinting silver and red. His eyes locked on Inx.
“The head of Hal’s personal guard and the captain of the city guards are kits like him,” Eli whispered against Austin’s ear. “They’re a strong race.”
Austin had registered the man’s weapons first, his clothes second. A hoodie? He stepped sideways into the man’s view, positioning himself to see the design on the front.
Stamped in black on grey was the insignia of Sam’s college in Ireland.
The man’s eyes flicked to Austin.
Inx sprang.
The stave cracked down hard on the man’s sword hand. The man kept his grip. His weight shifted, and the silver flew through the air towards Inx’s head.
“Drop it!” Austin ordered, the power of his voice splitting the air.
The Troop’s weapons landed softly in the sand. Inx released his stave.
The man did not drop his sword.
Austin’s heart leapt into his throat. Inx’s arm flew up, catching the blade on his reinforced forearm. The impact jolted his entire body. Weaponless, Inx lunged and ripped the blade from the man’s hands. Inx was struck several times by the man’s tail before the three circling Troop members caught it and grappled the man to his knees.
Austin waited until the man was completely immobilised before marching forward. He grasped Inx’s arm, turning up the side that took the blow. There was a deep chip in the chitin, spiderweb cracks spreading out from it. “I did not meanyou.” It came out as a growl. “Does this heal?”
Inx flexed his damaged arm. “I moult every few months.” He sounded entirely unbothered by the fact that Austin had almost got his head lopped off. The flash of the silver sword shimmered behind Austin’s eyes, keeping his heart rate elevated. He looked at the man to find a heated look fixed upon him. Wariness and intense dislike. Austin had no doubt if that sword was in his grasp exactly who it would be swinging at. Something about the man made Austin’s throat itch.
