Page 24 of Wings of Destruction

Tristan’s eyes go sharp, latching on something beyond my head. The men move into position with their weapons drawn and the underbrush breaks beneath their hurried footsteps.

The world erupts into movement and sound.

I turn in time to see the beauty ducking back into the cave but not fast enough. Why did she have to come out again? I’m too late to stop Tristan from sprinting ahead and disappearing inside the mouth of the cave.

Too late to stop his hand from grabbing all that pretty red hair and twisting the braids around his wrist.

“Look what we have here, boys!” Tristan crows out his victory.

Our men span the entrance, blocking anyone from escape, and my heart drops. The palm resting on my cuirass goes sweaty. The girl was trying to hide and protect her people, dozens of them. Her eyes widen at the sight of my uniform, and the ones worn by the other soldiers, the deep black and sapphire of General Roman Ryson.

She knows we’re the ones who burned her home.

Only for her to be caught by my cousin.

Her hair hangs loose in two braids down her front, her brown and green tunic the color of the forest below. Movement behind her gives the rest of her people away.

I quickly count heads and the air shoots out of my lungs. She’s got roughly fifty people hidden with her.

“Fiery little viper, aren’t you? Putting up a good fight. Too bad it’s not enough.” Tristan reacts and his dagger graces his palm a second later. He holds it to her throat. “I like it better when they fight,” he whispers.

The redhead twists wildly in his grip, unafraid of the blade pressed to her skin.

She stomps down on his boot then uses her knee to go for his groin. Unfortunately for her, she’s a slight thing, delicate and fair boned. She might be able to hold her own in a fight with someone else but not my cousin. I’m helpless, trapped in a cobweb snare, watching the unfolding.

Why hadn’t she stayed hidden?

Rage comes quickly and travels through the entirety of my body. The harder I fight against it, the more it grows, until my hands sting and my eyes burn. For half a second, I consider punching Tristan in the face, hard enough to cave in his nose and send him flipping over.

But if any of the men note my fury, they say nothing.

Tristan maneuvers her around and bands his arm around her midsection, trapping her arms at her sides. He’s got the bulk and superior height and strength.

There’s no way for her to win.

And her people are no help. The soldiers have them corralled and push them into the rear wall of the cave.

“What’s your name?” Tristan steps forward.

I watch the girl take a hitching breath, watch her work her thoughts into some kind of order. Her mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Is nothing better than a lie?

The rage boils higher inside of me. These poor people. They have nothing to do with the corruption in their village leaders. They probably had no idea that their leaders brought on the wrath of the general.

“Well?” Tristan laughs, a curt sound, the kind that straightens spines and forces hands to go to weapons. “You know the punishment for cheating the crown? A slow death. Punishment.”

“I don’t know anything,” the girl insists.

Tristan pulls her closer. Her gaze snaps down to his belt of weapons, then skitters over to mine, resting on the jeweled hilt of my dagger.

“I’m willing to bet you know more than you’re letting on. And if you don’t speak, you will die a traitor’s death, girl,” Tristan snarls.

No.

I’ve seen too much death in one day. I can’t bear to watch another innocent life be taken. She’s a frail creature with curling hair and almond-shaped wide eyes. Not an enemy. Somewhere buried underneath the charred remains of my heart, I recognize that the girl’s future is entirely in my hands, and that her family is dead in the field beyond.

This is recklessness, Mozi says.