Page 103 of A Thief Among Fae

“Of course not,” I spit back.

He throws two daggers at me and swerves, running at Min. Adrenaline snaps within me. The first dagger drops, then the second, an inch away from my ribs.

I jerk Gashil’s arcing sword. It misses Min’s throat, slashing into her shoulder. She roars, blood gushing down her fur, and her legs tremble.

Before Gashil can drive it in, I thrust it backward. It rebounds like a bucking horse and slices his forehead.

A low laugh trembles through my body as blood leaks down Gashil’s mask.

Min rises with a pained snarl, but I should’ve done more. I should’ve made him miss.

Something in the room cracks—a rib as the other fomorian kicks Finnian’s chest over and over again. “You bastard!” he shouts, curling his body in a desperate attempt to shield himself.

How do I protect them both? I can’t be in two places at once.

But my magic can.

An awareness of every object in the room shivers along my skin. I slam with all my might at the fomorian’s chestpiece, knocking her over. She gasps when her back hits the ground.

Finnian struggles to his feet, his eyes bloodshot and wild with pain. He runs for the weapon’s rack as I fling my knives at Gashil.

Gashil abandons Min to deflect the first with his bracer. The second glances off his chainmail chest piece, so I curve it around him and bury it into a gap in his bracers—the back of his knee. “How irritating,” he sneers, the leg buckling only briefly. His sword sparks as it fails to pierce Min’s dragonscale armor, the only thing that protects me from a devastating wound.

“Luck might have shone upon you, but nothing will save you,” Gashil taunts into my mind. “You’ll suffer just the same as that weak mortal I’ve slain. This is child’s play.”

“Shut up!” I yell. Not enough. I haven’t done enough.

Min sinks her jaws into the other fomorian’s leg and throws her across the room.

My focus yanks back to Gashil as he lunges at me. I dodge, just as Desmond taught me, and thrust his sword backward.

The butt rams into his chest. He falters for a vital second, but my dagger skitters off his mail again.

“Could you stop doing that?” Gashil snaps. He unsheathes a second sword from his back, a replacement for the one I had taken.

“Not until you’re six feet under.”

Gashil hisses. He shifts to attack, but I retreat. I levitate an archery target, then launch it. It smacks Gashil’s shoulder, disrupting his swing.

When I smack him again, Gashil kicks the target with his uninjured leg, splitting the wood. “When will you learn?” his voice echoes through my mind. “Nothing will deter me from relishing your hot blood as it runs across my blades.”

I throw my next two knives, and I’m running dangerously low.

He parries them as they strike again and again, then lunges. A flash of steel slices into my upper arm. I halt his sword from cutting any further, force it back, and stumble away. Gasps wrack my body, and my heart thunders as pain bursts along my skin. Blood saturates my nightgown.

Desperation seizes me, and I summon a shield from the weapon’s rack. It reaches my hands just in time to block Gashil’s next slash.

“Foolish mortal. My blade now sings.” I can hear the smirk in his voice as he advances. Oh gods, he’s even taller up close. Every step forces me to tilt my head up.

Finnian cries out, but I don’t dare look. Breaking Gashil’s gaze would spell my death.

Yet no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the panic squeezing my chest. Finnian can’t die too. Not when I’ve just gotten to know him, learned to groan at his puns, and laugh at his drunken stories. He promised to teach me to pick tumbler locks. He even made up a stupid bet I couldn’t lose, just so he could give back the topaz I owed him.

I won’t let anyone else die today.

I lift all my knives from the floor and attack Gashil with an onslaught. One knife strikes through his brigandine into the soft flesh of his armpit. The second streaks for his face.

My vision darkens as if someone has blown out the oil lamps. I stumble back, throwing my arms out for balance.