Chapter 49 #2
For every body that fell, another rose to block his path—each one a reminder that time was running out. Even with Lili and Blaze fighting at his side, the battle had them pinned down.
The maddening part? No one even guarded Mettius.
He lay where Thorne had left him, unconscious in the dirt. Vulnerable. Exposed.
To Augustus’s left, Lili arced her axe into a man’s stomach. On his right, Blaze soaked his shirt sleeve with more blood. But beyond the melee—two dozen bodies deep—Thorne kept glancing at Mettius.
He couldn’t reach him either.
Not yet.
“We need to clear this path,” Augustus said.
Blaze let out a sharp laugh. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Lili cleaved down the next man. “Maybe the sound of your own voice will scare them off.”
Augustus and Blaze exchanged a look, then in unison: “She’s talking to you.”
“Idiots,” she muttered.
They surged forward, a three-person wave of sweat and blood and steel. The path widened inch by brutal inch.
Then Augustus saw them—three figures ducking and weaving toward Mettius through the chaos.
His heart lurched.
Then eased.
Captain Abi Obong’o and her brothers, Rion and Herold, cut through the fray with surgical precision. Abi raised a hand, sharp and commanding. Rion broke left. Herold dove for Mettius and hauled him up by the arms.
Enemy fighters surged toward them. All fell beneath Abi’s sword.
Augustus ducked a blow and rammed his blade into a man’s chest. When he looked again, Herold had Mettius slung over his shoulder. Abi cleared the alley’s mouth. Rion circled behind.
Then they were gone—vanished into the smoke.
Safe.
Relief threatened to drop Augustus to his knees. He gritted his jaw and pushed it down. “New plan. We take out Thorne.”
Blaze jerked his chin toward another wave of men. “Not if they have a say in it.”
Steel met steel again. And again. Augustus’s blade was an extension of his body, guided by instinct. Parry. Slash. Kick. Next.
Bodies narrowed the street. The smoke turned to ash. And through it all, Thorne loomed—closer now. So close Augustus could taste the end.
Lili fought with wild precision at his side. “This is getting ridiculous,” she shouted, braid soaked through with sweat and blood. “There’s no end to them!”
“There is,” Augustus said.
Blaze flashed a wolfish grin. “Just admit it.” He lunged at a brute with a hammer. “You’re having fun.”
“I’m covered in blood and one man’s shitty entrails,” Lili said, darkening him with a lifted brow and a scowl. “I’m having a great time.”
Blaze laughed. “You get used to it.”
Lili rolled her eyes and muttered, “I should have left you to the Nahrin.”
The siren’s mention hit Augustus like a slap. “Have either of you seen Selene?”
Last he saw, she’d climbed the dune after the dronsian. She’d been outside the fray then. But now—now the ridgeline was empty. Did she come back?
Augustus turned, searching—
A tall woman emerged from the smoke. Calm smile. A Cat-o’-Nine-Tails swinging from her hand.
His spine locked.
Memories unleashed inside him like a blade: every lash, every scream whipped from his body. The phantom burns lit his skin.
His left foot slid back before he could stop it.
Blaze started for her. “I’ve got this one.”
“No.” Augustus’s voice was rough. “I’m good.”
The woman struck.
The whip whistled past his face, metal tips slicing the air. He ducked. Rolled. Came up swinging.
His blade cut through her mid-swing. Her cry was lost in the chaos.
Augustus stood over her body, panting. Sweat stung his eyes.
He bent to retrieve the whip and found that the handle was still warm.
“Are you all right?” Lili asked.
She and Blaze stood to either side, practically on top of him. He hadn’t even noticed them there.
Blaze gripped Augustus’s shoulder and squeezed.
“I take it you heard what happened?” Augustus asked. He’d wondered how much of his public humiliation and punishment had reached them.
They nodded.
Augustus turned and flung the whip into the nearest burning building. “I’ll live.”
“Aye,” Lili said. “You will.”
“Forever, apparently,” Blaze added, mouth in a slanting smile.
“Can we focus on—”
Two men sprinted by Augustus, nearly tripping in their haste. Thorne’s men, fully armed and focused on one target.
Selene.
She stood just ahead. Smoke swirled behind her like a curtain. Feet planted. Poignard knives in hand. A smile on her beautiful mouth.
Augustus exhaled.
Selene’s voice carried to him like a song lined with knives. “Hello…”
“…boys.”
Alf and Finn. Selene wasn’t surprised they found her…only that their reunion hadn’t happened sooner.
Finn’s teeth flashed with warning. The wind knifed through the street, whipping his red hair into wild snarls. “No rig race, this time. No rules.”
Alf snorted a laugh.
Selene gave her ex-jailer a thorough once-over. “Don’t you have a cat to chase, Alf?”
The thin, wide-eyed boy’s mouth thinned. “Brave talk without your friend here to hold your hand.”
The roar of battle dimmed to a gentle hum.
Petrina.
Alf grinned. “Shame about her head.”
Fuck. Him.
Selene took one step—
A man cleared his throat nearby.
Oskar stood a few feet away, arms folded. Calm. Watchful. As if they were back in the training arena. He offered her nothing but patience. Quiet confidence.
“Who’s this?” Finn asked, scowling at the Master Blade.
To be fair, Oskar looked like every other pirate here, ragged and blood-streaked.
“He’s here in case I need a stool,” Selene said, winking at her mentor.
Oskar’s eyes glinted. “No need, I’m certain.”
Alf loosed an unnecessarily loud sigh. “Can we get on with it?”
Selene spun her knives. “Ready when you are.”
She lunged.
Finn met her blade with a savage parry. Alf darted in from the side. His fist cracked into her ribs, and the air shot from her lungs. Before she could recover, Finn’s boot swept her ankles.
Selene hit the ground hard, breath knocked clean out.
Above her, Oskar’s voice rose over the din. “Not your fight.”
She rolled, narrowly missing a boot to the face.
“She needs—”
“Nothing and no one,” Oskar told Roman.
The assassin held Roman back with an open palm against his chest.
The Drynopian’s fury was written in every tense muscle.
The next voice she heard wasn’t Roman’s.
It was Petrina. Because if she were here, she’d have one thing to say. “You didn’t survive everything else just to fall to these two idiots.”
No. She didn’t.
Selene flipped her knives. Cracked her neck. Rolled her shoulders. “Let’s try that again.”
The burning village vanished. In her mind, she stood on a training mat. On a log above rushing water. On the deck of Cassia’s ship. She inhaled the salt-drenched air. Met Finn’s next attack with a swipe and feint.
Oskar’s voice from months ago, as real as if coming from the man himself. “Again.”
She carved a line across Finn’s arm.
“Again,” Petrina said.
Finn swung wide, and she darted in—
Alf landed a punch square to her jaw.
Selene’s vision flared white. She staggered and spat blood from her cut mouth.
Bastard.
“Again,” she whispered.
She exploded toward the flash of metal, shedding her exhaustion. Her fear. Her doubt. She’d faced much better swordsmen today.
Finn was more brawler than bladesman. Alf’s sword was too heavy for his wiry frame—useless without the element of surprise.
She struck with everything in her arsenal: blades, knees, elbows. Spinning between them both, her knives furious and unceasing. Petrina and Oskar’s voices now joined by one more: Cassia.
Somehow, Selene knew the pirate queen was with her, in these blades, in this fight.
Again, again, again.
Finn flung his blade aside and roared in frustration. He charged—
Selene dropped low and swept his legs. They crashed into the stone and sand, limbs tangled. She landed on top and slammed her blade pommel into his temple. He went limp.
Feet away, Alf gulped, sword dragging the ground.
Oskar smiled.
Roman looked ready to draw blood.
Selene rose and sheathed her knives. As she brushed the sand from her body, she met Alf’s wavering gaze. “Next.”
He bolted.
She didn’t have to chase him—she wanted to. For every morning he’d dragged her around by the cuffs. For every laugh when they taunted her.
Alf darted toward the edge of the battle and vanished behind a building.
She followed fast, tracking the shape of him scrambling over crates toward the wall.
He was going for height.
No problem.
She sprinted up the wall after him. Boots hit stone—one, two, three, four—and she caught the ledge just seconds behind. He ran, but he was sloppy. Desperate. He glanced back—
She leapt.
Her boot hit his spine.
He screamed and flew. He landed hard at the roof’s far edge, arms pinwheeling. For a second, it looked like he’d catch himself, but gravity won.
Selene slid to the edge and peered down in time to watch Alf land flat on his back in a sun-warmed puddle of…something. The splash reeked instantly of piss. And worse.
He groaned. Rolled. Moaned.
She grinned. “Petrina sends her love.”
Behind her, slightly muffled within the din, a familiar voice shouted her name.
Augustus had called Selene’s name three times before she heard.
She turned—blood streaking her face, triumph in her eyes.
The air filled his chest like it hadn’t in weeks.
“Have you finished playing with the children, love?” he asked, and immediately lost the battle to rein in his grin.
She sauntered to the edge of the roof, hands on her hips. “Did you have something else in mind?”
“Come play with me for a bit. I might need you to protect me from any monsters we might encounter.”
“I know I shouldn’t feel insulted,” Blaze said mid-parry, “but I am.”
Selene grinned and opened her mouth to respond. Her gaze lifted to somewhere behind him, and her eyes widened.
The street exploded with motion. The last of Thorne’s men surged like a dam breaking.
Augustus pushed through them, sword flashing with every step. He was fucking done with this fight. It was time to take the head off the snake.
“Find Thorne,” he told his friends.