Chapter 33 #2
Lomard chuckled, dark and proud. “I can kill anything. But the contract on her wasn’t for death. Just a little nick. I made it look good though, didn’t I? She thought it was a real assassination attempt. Played it up real nice.”
I gritted my teeth, hands fisting at my sides, fury rising like a storm. He had drugged me on purpose. The question was why.
Remy’s gaze flicked to the crowd. “You don’t seem concerned that someone might talk.”
“They won’t,” Lomard growled. “Or they’re dead. And they know it. The Order taught me that.”
Remy’s smile faded slightly. “So, what, you’re starting your own Order now?”
“Not me,” Lomard said, chest puffing. “But the Order and the nobility? They’re about to get a rude awakening.”
“Is that so,” Remy drawled.
“You’re the worst of them. Helping the fae. Playing lapdog to the royals. You don’t even see it—what’s coming.” He spat on the floor and laughed. “We’ll unite under the Crimson Sigil.”
Crimson Sigil. My blood went cold.
The other sect.
“There’s two now,” I said aloud. “Two factions looking to overthrow the nobles.”
Remy nodded slowly, voice low. “The humans who hate magic users. I’ve heard the name. But what about the Varnari?”
Lomard’s lip curled. “The Varnari? They’re worse. They want to gather magic users, breed them even. They’re no better than the nobles, only they hide behind symbols and old bloodlines.”
He stepped forward, blade catching the firelight.
“But both sides have one thing in common.”
Remy’s jaw tensed. “And what’s that?”
Lomard’s grin widened. “They both want you dead.”
Then he lunged—blade flashing in the firelight, slicing through the smoke-filled air, straight for Remy’s heart.
The moment Lomard moved, the tavern held its breath.
His blade sliced the air with deadly precision, aimed straight for Remy’s chest—but Remy twisted at the last second, spinning just enough to let the steel skim past him, the edge slicing into the leather of his tunic, not flesh.
No hesitation. No wasted movement.
Lomard didn’t even stumble.
He pivoted with shocking grace for a man his size, sweeping low with his leg and nearly catching Remy in the knees. Remy vaulted back, his boot scraping against the ale-slicked floor, and drew a hidden dagger from behind his belt in one smooth motion.
This wasn’t just a tavern brawl.
This was two trained killers, assassins, meeting in a room too small for their shadows.
Lomard grinned like a wolf, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “You’re quick. I didn’t expect the prince’s pet to keep his edge.”
Remy said nothing. He just moved.
They collided again, steel to steel this time, their blades ringing in the dim tavern light. Remy was fast, gods, he was, but Lomard had power behind every strike. He fought like a man who’d survived every dirty fight the world could offer and wasn’t afraid to add another scar to his collection.
Remy ducked under a swing meant to take his head clean off, slammed the hilt of his dagger into Lomard’s ribs, and rolled clear before the counterstrike could find him.
Lomard hissed, but laughed through it. “You hit like a noble.”
“Funny,” Remy said coolly, “you bleed like a coward.”
They circled again, boots scraping, breath sharp. Lomard feinted left, then launched himself forward, blade flashing toward Remy’s thigh. Remy caught the strike with the flat of his dagger, twisted, and elbowed Lomard across the jaw.
The taller man stumbled, only for a heartbeat.
Then he roared and came back with a brutal series of strikes, overhead, angled, sweeping, forcing Remy into a defensive retreat. It was clear now—Lomard didn’t care about finesse. He was testing Remy, pushing him, wearing him down.
And Remy?
Remy was just getting started.
He parried the last strike, ducked under a wild swing, and swept Lomard’s legs out from under him with a clean, brutal kick.
Lomard hit the floor hard, rolling away just as Remy’s dagger embedded itself in the wood where his throat had been.
The room was dead silent.
Every patron pressed to the walls, eyes wide, breaths held.
Lomard growled from the floor, blood trickling from his mouth as he grinned up at Remy.
“I should’ve killed you in the castle.”
Remy took a slow step forward, his voice like ice.
“If you had the chance, you should have taken it.”
Lomard surged up from the floor with a snarl, his blade flashing like silver lightning.
Remy stepped back to dodge the thrust, but Lomard was fast—faster than I gave him credit for. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he slashed upward and caught Remy just beneath the collarbone.
The blade bit deep.
Remy hissed through his teeth, blood already soaking into the front of his tunic. But he didn’t fall.
With the strength of someone trained to kill through pain, Remy shoved forward, his own dagger gripped tight, and buried it in Lomard’s chest, just left of the sternum. The assassin’s eyes widened as he choked, the wind punched from his lungs.
Then the world exploded.
There was a crack, as loud as thunder, as the back wall of the tavern shattered. Bricks and mortar gave way with a scream of old wood and dust.
Katama.
Remy’s massive Catalan dragon roared, neck coiled, jaws open wide as his throat lit with fire.
“NO!” Remy shouted, blood trailing from his lips, one hand outstretched. “Katama, stand down!”
But it was too late.
Flame erupted from the dragon’s throat, a brilliant stream of molten gold, slicing through the tavern wall and igniting everything it touched. The wooden beams caught immediately, fire racing along the ceiling like a living thing.
Patrons screamed and scattered, knocking over chairs and tables in a blind panic. Someone leaped through the open window. Another stumbled into a wall and vanished in a swirl of smoke.
The inferno devoured the far end of the room, climbing and consuming.
Lomard crumpled beside the crumbling hearth, chest rising once, then going still.
Remy stumbled back, one hand clutching his bleeding shoulder, the other trying to wave people clear as more of the tavern collapsed beneath the weight of Katama’s fury. Ash rained from above, and the floor trembled beneath our boots.
The Crooked Claw was coming down.
And we had seconds to escape it.