Page 51 of Ravenrose

I can practically hear Riven’s voice in my head.

They need to think you are weak for that plan of yours to work. Harmless.

But pain comes again, in the form of a pinch this time. The fine, pointed tip of my ear is caught between two stubby fingers. The man they belong to tugs so hard, my head jerks violently to the side along with it.

I don’t even hear what insult he sneers at me, too busy moving. I drop the excess rope I had gathered at my feet. My guards have gone on ahead, too focused on clearing a path through the thick throng of curious soldiers to notice.

The amount of slack I gathered allows me only seconds.

But seconds are all I need.

Reaching back, I grip the man’s hand—the one still holding my throbbing ear between his fingers. The pain is now only a distant ache. Especially when I catch the look of shock on the man’s face when I flash him my fangs inside a vicious smile.

For all his boldness in grabbing my ear, the man flinches, cringing away from me with a shout, trying and failing to tear his arm free. I hear nothing the lard spouts before I’m airborne, using the grip I have on his arm and the momentum of his tug to propel myself up into the air. Effortlessly, I hook one leg around his neck before swinging my body back down, taking him with me as I fall to the ground.

The two of us crash into the dirt. Working quickly, I grab hold of what slack remains in the rope, winding as much as I can around the man’s neck while climbing on top of him.

I easily dodge his flailing hands as he clumsily tries to fend me off. I’ve just wound a second loop around his neck when the rope’s slack finally finds its end, going taut when it meets resistance.

Wyatt, having not noticed the situation unfolding at his back, jerks back hard from the sudden anchor. And before he can realize what’s happened and loosen the rope, I take it in my hands myself and pull.

The man chokes, spluttering under me, his eyes bulging from the tight pressure around his neck. His legs flail uselessly underneath me as he once again tries and fails to shove me off of him, caught between whether to push me off or tear at the cord cutting off oxygen at his throat.

All of it happens so fast, no one ever had a chance to stop it, and even now, no one moves to intervene, an unsettled silence falling over the onlookers as they gape at us.

I’m nothing but a mask of calm. My eyes are as cold as the northern pines as I glare down at the writhing Kovari soldier, blowing an errant lock of hair out of my face. Unbothered by the shouts and growing commotion around me, I take my time, leaning down to growl softly into the ear of the struggling man at my mercy.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

The man freezes when the sharp edge of a dagger—his dagger—presses into his throat. I had swiped it from the sheath at his waist, holding the rope taut with his blade between my fingers.

Bright red blood dribbles at the faintest increase in pressure, turning the corners of my mouth up in dark pleasure as I realize I’ve answered my own question.

The rune can’t stop me from hurting everyone.

Just him.

Chapter 25

AYER

Istalk through camp with a scowl on my face, glaring at the younger soldiers, all of whom are craning their necks for a glimpse at the Sitari princess.

I knew there was an interest in our faerie prisoner, but this is ridiculous.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” I bark at the nearest group. Stones, you’d think they’d never seen a faerie before.

Then again… most of them probably haven’t.

The kingdoms are largely kept separate. It’s rare for humans from Kovaria, even soldiers, to cross paths with fae unless they’re stationed along one of the border villages—or unlucky enough to be caught up in one of their raids. And even then, the fae never seem to push past Calter Pass.

A shout breaks through the camp behind me. And unlike the ones I’ve heard hurled at the princess over the last few minutes, this one is a shout of alarm. A second shout gets my full attention, just in time to watch the princess bring down Lieutenant Serik like he’s just a baby recruit, fresh off the turkey farm.

“Twelve moons,” I mutter under my breath, already moving. What did I say about keeping fae prisoners alive?

A crowd is already forming a thick circle around the pair, soldiers circling around my new pet and the lieutenant like vultures, waiting to see what she’ll do next.

I shove through them, drawing out my own knife when I see the flash of steel in her hands. Where in the hells did she get that from? I track the blade’s movement as she holds it at Serik’s throat, just like she’d done to me last night.