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“You need to calm down, Kalisandre,”
And it wasn’t the words the man said, but rather how her name rolled off his tongue as if it belonged there, that made Kallie stumble backward.
She bundled up her heavy skirts. Unlatching her dagger, she brandished her blade. While the helmet may have hidden his face, she would recognize him anyway.
“Graeson,” she hissed. She was quickly growing tired of meeting him like this.
Flames danced across the metal, illuminating the scales of the dragon. Behind them, the fire was growing wild in the center of the temple, forcing the guests to the sides. The benches closest to the aisle disintegrated into ash as the fire consumed them. People squeezed themselves against the walls, jumping over the benches that the flames hadn’t yet touched. Screams filled the heat-soaked air.
“Don’t you look ravishing, little mouse,” Graeson said, his voice a haunting echo inside the helmet.
Kallie sneered as she ripped the bottom of her dress, cutting off the extra fabric. She swung, the shredded material falling to the ground as she aimed for an opened joint in the armor.
“Now that was just rude, Kalisandre,” he said as he dodged her attack. Shifting several spaces back, he pulled the helmet off, and it rolled across the floor. His irises were as bright as the full moon, nearly glowing, and his intense gaze sent a shiver down her spine as he ran his tongue across his teeth. “I wanted the task of ruining that pretty little dress of yours.”
Heat flushed her cheeks, but she ignored it and aimed for her new target: those stupidly bright, searing eyes.
Graeson, however, was quick, evading her attack in one smooth movement. Kallie thrust the blade again, aiming for the joint at the hips, but Graeson, yet again, slipped out of her reach. He spun, putting the table overflowing with roses between them.
“Is that all you got, Princess?” Graeson smiled, eyelids lowering in challenge.
Snarling, Kallie charged. She thrust her body weight against the table, and the thorns dug into her skin as she pressed into them. It was a stupid move, but she didn’t have time to chase him. The smoke was thicker now, and she had no time to waste. She swung her blade, and Graeson shifted, sliding over the table.
Kallie flipped over and pushed herself up. She threw her hand up and aimed for Graeson’s neck as she spun back around to face him. Graeson snatched her hand in the air and threw her against the table, the edge of the oak slamming into her back.
“Ah, so the little mouse has teeth, does she?”
Her brows knitted together as his gaze danced over her. Something was off about that bright silver gaze. Something was missing.
Graeson quirked a brow when she did not attack immediately. “Oh, is the fun already over?” He clicked his tongue. “What a pity.”
Kallie’s nose twitched. Then, she kneed him in the groin, and Graeson folded over as he groaned out in pain. Men’s armor always seemed to keep their most fragile parts exposed. Still, he recovered quicker than she would have liked. She acted fast, swinging her blade. Once, twice, three times.
Graeson slipped her attack each time, ducking and weaving around every strike. On the fourth swing, Graeson dropped low, and Kallie fell flat onto her back, tripping over his leg. The room spun, and the dagger was knocked out of her hand.
Her vision was slow to stabilize, but before he could put his body weight over her, she bent her legs inwards and locked them around his neck, choking him.
A vein in Graeson’s forehead pulsed as he used his hand to pry her legs apart. She pulled him as close as the dress permitted and punched him in the face. He jolted back.
Graeson cracked his jaw back into place and smirked. “There she is.”
Kallie rolled over and snatched up her dagger. She stood, readying herself. She took in a deep breath and then—
Panic. Smoke filled her lungs. Her legs grew weak. Her vision became blurry. Her head became lighter.
Beyond Graeson, golden brown eyes stared at her.
She gasped. “Fynn?”
She blinked, and Fynn morphed into Terin. Terin’s mouth moved, but she didn’t hear what he said.
Kallie tried to remain standing, tried to fight the sweet music of Terin’s gift, but her mind became heavy. Her limbs grew weak. She was too late, too slow, too weak.
Her father would never forgive her for this.
As she fell back, she reached out, extending a hand, trying to grab onto anyone, anything. But there was nothing there to hold onto. No one to—
“I got you, little mouse.”
