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“Not even close,” she muttered.
While the High Seer landed delicately on her feet without a sound, my bare feet slammed into stone, hard. “You did that on purpose,” I grumbled, getting my bearings—in front of the Citadelle, just beyond the Great Arch—when the owl landed on her shoulder.
Torin stroked his head before she jerked her own towards the Citadelle. “We’ll wait here. One hour, then we leave. I’d help, but…if I use any more magic, I won’t be able to carry you both, not even to the tunnels.”
“I understand.” I climbed the blood-soaked stone steps, dragging my leaden legs. “I’ll be back, and I’ll have Tavion with me.”
* * *
Tempeste was a ghost town.
I’d never before realized how a city’s people were her lifeblood, the very thing that infused brick and mortar and stone with vibrancy. Without them, this place became nothing but soot-stained rock.
Beyond the city, the forest stretched as far as I could see. Somewhere in those trees, the Caladrians hiked toward a better life. I hoped the trees protected them and they never, ever looked back. I didn’t stop until I’d climbed the last set of stairs to the top of the central tower. My legs had finally stopped bleeding, the deep gashes crusting over, the foul, poisonous odor something I didn’t want to think about for too long.
I froze when a painful groan echoed from the end of the hall, pulled the knife from my belt, and kept moving. My chest hurt. My body hurt. I turned off the pain. I would not let Tavion down.
Adrenaline turned my mouth dry, my hatred even sharper than my knife, everything narrowing down to the agonizing groans coming from the room in front of me.
I was moving fast when I went through that door, getting my bearings. The Mistress, standing over Tavion who was writhing on the floor. No one else in the room.
I didn’t stop moving, not even when I plunged my blade deep into the Mistress’s abdomen and dragged the blade along her side, the edge of the knife shrieking when I hit bone. I grasped her tightly woven bun and yanked her head back, knocking her off balance, stabbing blindly, her blood coating my hand.
Bare feet had been a vulnerability in the north, but they were my strength now, a firm foundation as I gripped her hair and slammed her face into the stone wall, vicious glee going through me when something broke.
Teeth, nose, I did not care.
When she yanked out of my grasp and spun around, I was ready for that, too, her eyes widening in shock. Then she launched herself at me, nails lengthening to deadly claws, sharp teeth glinting.
“I’ve waited years for this, you littlebitch.”
What she didn’t know was I’d waited too. I wasn’t a frightened slave anymore; I had my weapons and knew how to use them.
She did not hold back, a dervish of slashing claws, teeth capable of tearing out hunks of flesh. But I didn’t either, and while she fought in a rage fueled daze, I fought to save Tavion.
If I failed, he would die.
I kept repeating that, over and over, as I made every strike count.
When we broke apart, I was peppered with cuts, one eye swollen closed, nearly lost from a wild strike, but she was holding her belly together with one hand, her front drenched in blood. Black blood. “You’re a slave,” she spat. “A fucking nobodyslave. I should have whipped you to death when I had the fucking chance.”
Her gaze slid to the side, to where Tavion lay. “Just like your lover. He will never be the same again. Never.”I couldn’t look. Couldn’t look. If I did, if I saw…I kept my eyes on the Mistress.
“If you were smart, you would have.” I fell into a crouch, my shoulders loose, magic pouring into me, slowly—ever so slowly—healing my face, the cuts on my arms. I called up enough for a blast, but there wasn’t enough there.
“But here we are.”
She was healing, just like her brother.
Faster than I was.
Every time my blade sliced, I made sure to cut something vital. Every time I yanked my knife out, I found a new target, but every wound knit back together, every gash disappearing. We circled, stabbing, then dancing out of reach, until I was closer to Tavion than the door, slipping and sliding through puddles of blood, both red and black.
“You can’t kill me, I’m too old. And when the Oracle comes back, we will have such fun with your wolf. I think you will beg us to end him before we are done.”
My foot knocked against something hard, pain blazing through my foot.
I barely dodged the Mistress’s parry and looked down. Tavion’s ridiculously enormous—and very sharp—sword that almost cut off my big toe. She lunged and I ducked to avoid her strike, but more to wrap my fingers around the hilt of the sword and swing it up in a wild arc, the wind whistling as the blade sliced straight through her throat.
