Page 107 of The Silversmith

A valid warning, because he was pure death and rage and darkness, covered entirely in their blood. He wore it like armor. Like it restored him.

When the final body dropped, I stepped out from behind the tree. His eyes tracked my movement and snapped to me immediately. At the sight of me, he thrust both blades into the ground and swore.

“I told you to run.” He wiped blood from his face with the back of his hand—it barely helped, there was so much of it—and strode toward me.

My body quivered with visible terror, but I refused to move.

“You were not—” His pace slowed, brow furrowed with concern while searching my face. Assessing my fear. “You were not supposed to see that.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you.”

“Leave me!” he gritted out. “Damn it, Ella, you do leave me, you leave me with a thousand blades at my throat to save yourself, and you do not hesitate!”

I swallowed and shook my head.

He cursed and ran his hands over his face. I almost sprinted the rest of the way to him, almost threw my arms around his neck and held on, but the disassociated chill I’d heard when he spoke to those Insidions still encased my veins.

“How did you know them?” I waved in the direction of the dead bodies strewn across the ground, though I tried not to look closer. I had seen enough.

He stepped toward me. I took a step back.

With a pleading gaze, he admitted, “I’ve been known to play multiple sides.”

“And which side are you playing now?” My body broke into a fit of terrified shakes. But I already knew, I thought. If I doubted him, I would’ve run. I would be past the river and then some.

“Ella.” He closed the distance between us. I stumbled over a root of the oak tree, but he caught me with both arms.

“Molochai’s or Simeon’s?” I demanded. “Because the things you said to them—”

“Wars are not solely won by men with clear and honorable intentions, Aryella. They are won by those of us willing to live in the dark.” He took my left hand and placed it on his chest. “I am not on Molochai’s side. I am not on Simeon’s side. I am on your side. Only yours.” With his other hand, he took the hand wielding my knife, lifted it, and positioned the tip of my blade over his heart. “If ever I am not, I want you to take this blade and drive it through my heart.”

I lowered my knifed hand from his chest. “What they said about unsavory claims… about women and threats…” A horrified sound slipped out of my throat. My heart knew, but I had to ask. “Please tell me you haven’t—”

“The last woman I touched that way was…” His broad chest strained beneath the weight of his truth as pain rippled through his gaze.

“Your wife?” I whispered, saying it so he didn’t have to. Even though saying it hurt me too.

“Yes,” he answered softly.

But that gentleness vanished—he snarled when an arrow pierced his shoulder. Almost as quickly as it punctured his bicep, his fist was clenched around it.

“Mother… fucker!” He sucked in a breath, held it, and removed the arrow, his flesh squelching, blood sputtering out of the deep hole it left before he shoved me behind him. One more Insidion than I had originally counted stood a short distance away. I glanced at the hole in Gavin’s arm and had never been so grateful for someone’s terrible aim.

The remaining Insidion was larger than the others had been, this one rivaling Gavin in size. He tossed his bow to the ground and unsheathed a long, curved machete, but Gavin hurled a powerful fist into the Insidion’s face. Then another, and another. The Insidion stumbled back from the force of each blow until he mustered the strength and power for one swing of his blade.

I screamed when the machete connected with Gavin’s shoulder. Cut straight through his jacket and drew a river of blood. Instead of recoiling like a sane person, Gavin pressed his hand into the underside of the blade, resisting the pressure, and smiled.

I tried to summon my power. I reached for my wheel inside the temple, but the shock of the last few minutes was debilitating, and it… wasn’t there. So I watched in helpless horror as Gavin leaned into the blade.

Panic seeped into his adversary’s eyes, stance, and every breath. The more Gavin curved his own shoulder forward into that blade, the wider his sinister smile grew.

Until Gavin thrust the man’s own arrow through his neck and tossed him to the side like a useless slab of spoiled meat.

He looked at me, and his soured indifference morphed into debilitating fear—fear I didn’t know could exist in those beautiful brown eyes, now panicked and wide as he roared, “Behind you!”

He lunged for me, but for once, he wasn’t quick enough.

It happened so fast, I had no time to decide.