Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
HAVEN
The room went from empty to impossibly crowded in seconds. Full of men with swords, all of whom seemed determined to wet their steel with our blood. I called on Carron’s power, but I was drained from incapacitating the men in the hallway. Nothing happened.
The rose-hilt dagger in my boot wasn’t enough to protect us. Not when ten men, their features obscured by black masks, had us in their sights.
Using magic that didn’t tire me, I summoned swords and tossed one to Grayson, keeping one for myself.
“We don’t want you, Shield.” Even the rebels treated shields as lesser beings. “Unless you stand with him. If you do, you can die with him.”
Finally, some equity.
I lifted my sword.
“Get out of here. Now.” Grayson motioned toward the exit.
“No.”
“Just once, why don’t you do as you’re told?”
That didn’t deserve an answer.
Grayson and I fought back-to-back, shifting seamlessly to guard against the endless supply of men who wanted us dead.
The men I fought were bigger than me, but they weren’t faster. These weren’t trained soldiers—just rebels with more brute strength than skill. A parry. A thrust. The sickening feel of my blade sinking into flesh. I easily snuck past their crude defenses.
If only there weren’t so many of them.
Despite their numbers, I liked our chances. Until I saw him—the one hanging back, studying my movements. Unlike the others, he held his sword with practiced ease.
Grayson grunted and stumbled into me, interrupting our rhythm.
I barely avoided the slash of an attacker’s blade.
Fortunately, he left himself open, and my sword found his heart. He joined his friends on the floor.
“Grayson?”
He grunted again.
“Talk to me.” I countered the arc of a rebel’s sword.
“It’s bad.”
Was he being deliberately difficult? Couldn’t he just say “it’s a stomach wound” or “there’s a deep gouge in my fighting arm”? “How bad?”
“Bad.” Grayson wasn’t the kind of man to say a wound was bad. Not unless he was dying.
I whirled, avoiding a rebel’s sword, and kicked. My boot met his crotch, and he doubled over in pain. Quickly, before he could recover, I slammed the sword’s hilt into his skull. He crumpled to the floor.
That left three. Including the one who looked like he knew his way around a battlefield. My arm already shook with exhaustion, and Grayson was wounded. We needed help.
I called for the other guards, sending my message straight to their heads, revealing a power I’d hoped to keep secret. I need you!
The floor shuddered with the impact of Grayson’s fall.
Shifting quickly, I stood over his body and fought. Grayson’s breathing was shallow. At least he was still alive—but for how much longer? A crimson pool—Grayson’s blood—spread beneath my boots. He didn’t have much time.
The fighter who’d hung back approached with measured steps, sword held in perfect form.
Everything about his stance screamed years of training and discipline.
He rolled his shoulders with the casual confidence of someone who knew he’d already won.
Behind him, the two remaining rebels hung back, unwilling to engage the woman who’d just cut through seven of their comrades.
Let their leader test my remaining strength first.
“You fought well, Shield.” His voice held grudging respect. “But you’re done. Put down your sword and step away from the guard, and I’ll spare you.”
My legs trembled. My sword weighed a hundred pounds. My breath came in ragged gasps. But I refused to give up. I sent another silent message, praying that Pierce or Teal or Flynn paid attention. Please, I’m desperate.
The soldier could see my exhaustion—he was probably calculating exactly how to exploit it.
“Put down the sword.”
I couldn’t win this fight. But maybe I didn’t have to. I had the dagger, and if I could get him close enough …
“I don’t want to kill you.”
“I don’t want you to kill me either.”
His eyes, the only part of his face I could see, crinkled. I got the impression he was smiling at me. “Then put down your sword.”
I sent a final message to the other guards: I need you to come. Now!
“I don’t want to kill you. Step away.”
“I can’t.”
The soldier gave his head a regretful shake. “Then you die. Gentlemen?”
The two remaining men stepped forward, and I retrieved my dagger and lifted my sword.