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A gag worked its way up and she tried to swallow it back. “My friend knows how to get there. He used to live there.”
“Which one?” Her boots scuffed at the dirt as the warlock turned her with him. “Your brother with the orange eyes or your little protector?”
“Oh, I’d hardly call him little. Look at him, he’s practically seven feet tall.” She filled the silence with her nervous chuckle.
Shelby slowly shook his head in warning. Did he not want her to tell them it was him? Was he suggesting that her jokes were not fitting for a time such as this?
“Which. One.” The warlock shook her, making her head thrash and her neck ache.
“Fuck,” Shelby hissed under his breath. “It’s me. Clearly, it’s me. Just leave her alone. We don’t want any trouble.”
“We do,” a stray voice shouted, and sporadic cheers rose up all around them.
“Have you ever worked for the queen?” The warlock at Ace’s back spoke directly to Shelby. Accusation made his voice raw and tinted with anger.
Shelby nodded.
“Then you should know better than to reveal who or what you care about.”
Cold steel pressed against Ace’s throat. Each inhale became shallower and shallower as she tried to keep herself still. The tether to her holy fire was there, waiting for her to take hold of it. All she had to do was make the connection and her sword would be ready in her hand.
Could she swing its blade before he slit her throat?
“Don’t.” Shelby took a step toward them. The arrow at his neck followed, drawing a shallow cut.
Ace’s heart gave a little flutter, though now was not the time to think about how Shelby might care enough for her to risk his life.
“We need her to get into the city.” Her heart deflated. “Him too.”
“What makes them so special?” The warlock with Rehan leaned against him, arm propped on Rehan’s shoulder like they were old buddies. Rehan had clasped his hands together in front of him, his gaze settled on the blade at Ace’s throat.
“Look at you being all special and shit,” the man hissed, lips brushing her skin. “No wonder he wants to keep you to himself.”
“Our blood contains holy fire,” Rehan stated.
“Holy fire.” The warlock holding Ace said the words slowly.
“From the gods.” Rehan clarified as if that was necessary. He seemed rather calm considering the circumstances. Then again, he didn’t have a knife at his throat at the current moment. Hecouldsummon his blades.
“Is this some kind of joke?” the warlock with Shelby growled. “Or are you stupid?”
The arrowhead prodded the open wound trickling the smallest trail of blood down to Shelby’s collar. He winced at the jab.
“It’s not a joke!” Ace shouted.
“But he is stupid right?” A laugh made the warlock behind Ace vibrate against her. “How does a warlock find himself in the company of two freaks who claim to have holy fire in them? Have you even heard yourselves? It doesn’t sound real. Nor is it applicable to your search for Glatton.”
“It’s your blood we need.” The warlock poked at Shelby again.
“Then perhaps you should stop draining me of it.” A vein bulged in Shelby’s forehead.
“Why the holy fire?” The blade at Ace’s neck loosened a fraction.
“Higher potency. You need less of it to break down the wards for Glatton than you would need in warlock blood,” Rehan said, shrugging out from under the elbow of his captor. He took a slow step forward addressing the group and no one moved with him. Behind her, the warlock tensed but he didn’t say a word. “How many of you would it take?”
Rehan pointed from warlock to warlock pretending as if he was counting. “Do you even know how much blood you’d have to spill?”
“What makes you think we are headed for Glatton?”
