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But Conor hadn’t needed her warning. His sword appeared before she’d finished speaking, his stance that of a warrior poised for battle. “You’ll not win this fight.” Conor’s voice held the inhuman echo of the fey. “It’s foolish to try.”
As he shifted from foot to foot, light bounced blue and silver from his blade. His gaze became a darkling stare, his eyes gone hard and black as obsidian. Ellery held her breath, knowing that weak as he was, Conor could still end this standoff anytime he chose. One slash of his sword or one spell’s summoning would scatter this group in terror. Yet he held back. Waited for Mr. Kay to decide the outcome.
“Conor,” she urged. “We have to leave. Now.”
“Mr. Kay?” Conor asked, “what say you? Do we finish this?” He strung out each word, enunciating every syllable. Low-voiced. Smooth. His eyes never wavering from the innkeeper. “Call them off,” he said. “It’s over.”
Her breath came in short painful gasps as if a giant hand gripped her throat. Her chest constricted, her lungs unable to expand. “Conor,” she whispered, incapable of speaking over the blood roaring in her ears.
Dazed, Mr. Kay lowered his weapon and backed up. The men behind him faltered, confused. Conor remained where he was. Unmoving. Immovable. Sweat damped his shirt, sheened his face. His hands trembled. For all his show of power, the mage sickness still weakened him.
A high keening broke the tense silence, rose and fell as the Keun Marow tracked them. Uneasy, the men murmured. Glanced about.
Conor put out a hand. “Come, Ellery.”
“I can’t.”
“Now’s not the time to argue over past mistakes.”
“No. I mean I can’t move. Can’t breathe.” Conor gripped her. Embraced her. Held her so that their hearts met and matched. This time she knew what he was doing. This time she made herself ignore the rush of excitement that accompanied his touch. There was nothing of the lover about him. He took her weakness. That was all.
The suffocating tightness eased, and she immediately pushed him away.
A shadow of icy amusement passed across his face. “Better?” he asked.
Determined to keep her distance, she gave a curt nod. “Well enough.”
She stumbled toward the door through the men who moved aside as if they walked in a trance. “What did you do to them?”
As he passed, he flashed a sharp glance at Mr. Kay and the others. “The power of the leveryas. A touch of it can distract. In its strongest form, it can compel. Control.”
Outside, the cries came again. Louder. Closer as the Keun Marow encircled the village. Seeking their trail. Ellery’s throat began to close again. “We’ll never outrun them.”
“Not on foot.” Conor shoved open the stable door. Led two horses from their stalls.
“We’ll ride.”
“Now we’re horse thieves?”
He threw a saddle over the first horse, cinching the girth.
“It’s steal or die. In my book, that leaves one choice.” He paused in the middle of buckling the bridle. “If you insist, I’ll send them payment—with interest.” He shot her a devil grin.
She knew she was being ridiculous. She’d come to him for rescue, and he was doing his best. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t done the same and worse in her day. But her earlier resentment flared, so interwoven with panic and horror, she wasn’t sure which emotion held sway. She tried focusing on saddling her frightened horse. The animal sidled and backed, jostling her as she worked.
Every breath burned her lungs. Worked its way up her throat. Asher must be near. She’d never experienced such an overpowering sense of helplessness.
“Mount up.” Conor tossed her into the saddle. Strapped his dagger to her waist. His touch was reassuring, his face grim.
“Head southwest. Towards Penzance. Make for the village of Polvossa. The house is called Daggerfell. You’ll find safety there. Whatever you do, don’t stop. Don’t look behind you.”
His voice sounded muffled as if he spoke to her through a fog.
A man stepped from the shadows. Asher. Tall and thin with a look of madness in his face. In his hand, he held a barbed sword, the jagged-edged sides stained red and black. “Going so soon? And we’ve only just arrived.”
Conor slid in front of her, his own sword drawn. A buzzing erupted in Ellery’s head like the sounding of a thousand bees. Everything around her wavered as if she saw it through water or fire.
Asher’s red lips curled back to show jagged teeth. “I see your manners have yet to improve, amhas-draoi. You haven’t introduced me to your companion.” His eyes flicked to her. “Pretty thing, and with so much the look of her father, don’t you think?”
