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But Kallie was so busy watching the woman's hands that she didn't see the woman's boot this time. The top of the woman's foot jammed into her jaw with a bruising force.
Kallie ignored the pain and swung. But before Kallie could strike, the woman jabbed Kallie with her elbow. Then twisting around, the woman faced her and shoved Kallie backward. Kallie's back smacked against the ground and the air was knocked out of her.
The woman peered down at her and took a slow step forward. "If that leaves a mark, I apologize, but at least it will heal."
Red filled her vision. And in Kallie's peripheral vision, a glint of silver caught her attention. She rolled and scurried underneath the carriage. Fingers on the hilt, she wrapped her hand around her dagger.
In her haste though, Kallie had forgotten what awaited her on the other side of the carriage. A large black boot crashed down onto her knuckles, forcing her to release the weapon.
Two scimitars wiped clean of blood hung at the sides of the towering man. His hood was pulled down over his eyes, but Kallie could still see the cocky smirk on his face. Dark stubble covered his chin. "Did you think you could hide from me, little mouse?" the man said, baring his teeth.
Kallie's heart pounded, but this was not over yet.
As she tried to yank her hand back, someone else grabbed her other arm. Kallie looked behind her and saw yet another hooded figure.
The first man lifted his boot off her hand. His friend made quick work of gathering her hands and tying a rope around Kallie's wrists before she could move. As he tightened the rope, his fingers were coarse on her skin, Kallie's breathing hitched.
His fingers.
He was touching her. Kallie cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. She pulled at the strands of her gift and laced her words as she spoke, "You will—"
But before Kallie could finish the command, he raised a finger to his lips.And the man with the scimitars spoke over her, his voice deep, wild, "Whatever it is you're about to say, tell us when you wake up."
She turned to the man who nearly crushed her fingers. He reached down, picked up her dagger, and slipped it into the back of his trousers. She tried to ask him what he meant by 'when she wakes up,' but her tongue turned to stone. Then her eyelids grew heavy, her vision blurred.
She prayed to the gods that Myra was okay, that her loss today would not haunt Kallie forever. But she did not have time to think about how much her pride hurt before everything went black.
Chapter7
Kallie awokewith her face against a thin, cold blanket. Her mind was hazy, her vision was slow to return. But one thing was clear: she had to find Myra and make sure she was okay.
Kallie attempted to push herself up but without success. Her legs were sorer than they had been before. Rough rope dug into her skin. Her heart beat against her ribcage as she tried to think of a plan. She needed to get her shit together before she could try to save Myra. Wherever her friend was.
She took a deep breath, counted to ten to clear her mind. She could do this. Her father had prepared her for this.
After taking another clearing breath, she opened her eyes. Shadows saturated the tent she occupied making it hard toidentify the exact details of her surroundings. But she drank in as much as possible in the darkness that encased her. Kallie lay in the midst of blankets strewn across the ground. Somewhere, stone scrapped against metal. Toward the tent's opening, the moon's rays cast a faint ring of light around the silhouette of a broad-shouldered man. He faced the open air with his hood pulled back revealing short, brown hair cut close to his head. The individual was hunched over. A glint of light bounced off a piece of metal in his lap as he sharpened his blade.
If Kallie attracted his attention, she could use him to find Myra. Kallie pulled at her gift laying at the bottom of her stomach. It twirled and flickered. If this was going to work, she needed to remain calm. Keep her temper stifled. Even though all she wanted to do was scream at this man to release her and Myra, the only survivors of their slaughter.
At least, she hoped her friend had survived. Kallie did not dare think about the alternative.
She cleared her throat of the dryness that coated it. "Hey," Kallie whispered.
At the sound of her voice, the man swung his head, but his facial features remained indistinguishable in the darkness.
"These bindings are," she grunted as she tugged at the rope, "a little tight, don't you think? They're making my wrists bleed."
The man grumbled something inaudible, but he stood. Sheathing his freshly sharpened sword, and padded over to her. As he grabbed her wrists to check the binding, Kallie took her chance.
Choosing her words carefully, she let her gift melt with her words. "After you unbind me, you will silently and without alarming the others take me to my handmaiden and let the two of us escape the camp." When she used her gift, she had to ensure that her words could not be misinterpreted and that her intention was clear. If she wanted it to last for a long period, she had to conserve her energy. If it was a simple task, it would require less. Either way, none of her victims knew they had been manipulated afterward.
The man froze. Then, the rope loosened around her wrists and fell off.
Twisting her wrists around, Kallie stood and released a shaky breath. When she looked up at the man, his brown eyes were unmistakable. The man who had stolen a dance—Fynn. But no, this man's hair was shorter. This close, the resemblance was even more uncanny.
Fynn's twin stared down at her, and a fire erupted inside of her. They had infiltrated her home, attacked her carriage, killed her people, and abducted her and Myra. Kallie would make them pay for it all.
However, before she could say anything to the man, Fynn's twin turned toward the tent flap, looked both ways, and ushered her over.
