“And who are you?” he asked.
Though Obel started to introduce her, Brea spoke over him. “My name is Breata Lohen. You just killed my best and oldest friend. So I think it is only fair that I kill you.”
Blount grinned with amusement. “Traitors don’t deserve life.”
“Tyrants don’t deserve life either.”
With a grunt, Blount reached out to grab her face. Brea whacked his hand away with her fists, the shackles jingling withthe movement. “You touch me,” she hissed, “and I’ll drive my sharpest dagger up yourcúos.”
Blount’s eyes glinted, suddenly fascinated. “Ah, you’re a Warrior,” he said with awe.
Brea didn’t reply.
“Good.” Blount moved to Ethenn then. “You’re Ephrian, obviously,” he said, dismissing him. But then he paused, studying him. His feet shifted as he glanced back at Evylin and Brea in turn.
He faced Ethenn again. “Surely not. Another Warrior?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Ethenn said blandly.
Blount chuckled, gleeful. “Well, this is splendid fun,” he said. “I’ll enjoy dissecting you at a later time. I’ve always been interested in discovering what fuels a Warrior’s magic. You aren’t connected to the resources, and yet you’re so powerful.”
“What makes you think he’s a Warrior?” Rafferty asked. “After all, the kid’s just got a funny look to him. There’s not really anything magical about that.”
Ethenn glared at his friend, but Obel said, “Rouland has studied magic thoroughly over his lifetime. While Warriors are vastly rare these days, he’s managed to discover their tells. Their aura is chief among them. You become accustomed to it long enough, and you can sense it readily.”
Blount had moved from Ethenn’s side, crossing to Ilain, who was still crying, watching her brother cling to her dead sister-in-law. “Highlady Calder,” Blount called.
When Ilain didn’t respond, he slapped her across the face.
Ethenn clenched his fists, but the five guards holding him kept him from moving.
Ilain met Blount’s gaze then, a hand pressed to her red cheek. “Yes, Your Majesty?” she said with marked contempt.
“I have need of your services,” Blount said. He beckoned to her. “Come with me.”
Led by her guards, Ilain walked behind Blount. He strode across the marble to Evylin. He gripped her wrist, yanking her from Obel.
Prepared, Evylin leaned into the force of Blount’s pull, crashing into him and driving him back. It caused him to stumble, so Evylin slipped her foot out to trip him. Then she swept her clasped hands up into his jaw, making contact with a sharp smack. He grunted and released her, stumbling backward from the force of her blow.
Freed, Evylin darted toward Deckard. If she could get to him, she could break him free of his captors, get one of their weapons, and together, they could rescue their friends.
An amethyst shadow slammed into Evylin’s back, sending her careening to the floor. She hit the tiles hard but used the momentum to roll to Deckard’s side. She scrambled to rise, only for a foot to land on her chest.
“I wouldn’t,” Blount said, standing over her. His boot pressed violently against her sternum, making it hard to breathe.
Evylin’s eyes darted to Deckard’s, so close by. A wave of sorrow passed through the air between them. “We’ll be all right,” he whispered tenderly.
He was such a splendid liar. But this time, Evylin struggled to believe him.
The guards had pressed all their friends to their knees, knives at their throats. Vayden still wept, Isla’s body beside him. Thom knelt at Deckard’s side, fear in his gray-blue gaze. Rafferty and Ethenn were next, Brea at the far side. All of them stared helplessly as Blount pulled Evylin to her feet.
“Now...” Blount gestured to the guard holding Deckard. The soldier took his knife and drove it into Deckard’s shoulder.
Deckard grimaced, a deep grunt eliciting from him.
Evylin felt the blade as though it had stabbed her own shoulder, a fire racing through her arm. Was that part of the Bond? She’d not experienced Deckard’s physical pain before.
Still, her husband held her gaze steadily until Blount forced her eyes to him.
