B0161NEC9Y (F) (21 page)

“You went into the prison camp?” Shanti put her hand on his frail shoulder, her heart thumping with fear for what could’ve happened. “Why did they send you there? That is way too dangerous.”

“I told you,” Rohnan muttered, looking around the corner.

“Shut up, Rohnan,” Shanti spat, pulling Arsen in for a quick hug. “I’m sorry. I thought they’d have you kids doing easy deliveries and then getting out. I didn’t think there would be any danger.”

“I did what they assigned me at first, which was take a box to Miss Molly. That was easy. Her guard just stared at nothing the whole time. But then I heard that Gracas was having trouble getting close to the stew. And that was a big deal. So I just went to see if I could. It was really easy, Miss Shanti. No one ever notices me. Even my father never did.”

A surge of emotion welled up. With such a problem procreating, her people protected and cherished children, coveting the little creatures. Ignoring them, or not noticing them, was unthinkable. That idea was as foreign as it was atrocious to Shanti. Putting them in harm’s way was unthinkable. If she wasn’t desperate, she would never have consented to them even leaving their house. Not that they’d given her a choice.

“Wait until we leave, then get on home.” Shanti gave his shoulder a light squeeze.

“He won’t,” Rohnan said with equal parts impatience and uneasiness. “He’ll continue to follow us. We’d have to personally take him home, and even then, he’d probably just leave again. He’s as willful as you ever were.”

“I can take you where you want to go,” Arsen chirped, eagerness in his face. “Please. I can take you.”

Shanti shook her head. “Not a chance—”

“
Please.
Miss Junice was always nice to me. She gave me cookies. And you keep getting lost. If I don’t help, you won’t get there in time.”

Shanti’s logic warred with her heart. He was right, but he was so small. If any harm came to him, she would die inside.

But then, with the way these people were worming their way into her heart, any of them dying would have the same effect. Her desire to keep others at a distance after losing her people was being eroded with each new person she grew close to. Each new stranger who became an acquaintance…and then a friend. This city had become her home, and these people were becoming family. If it could be prevented, she couldn’t sacrifice any of them. It just wasn’t in her.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Okay, but only because I have no other choice if I want to keep Junice alive. Listen to me, though. If something happens, I want you to
run.
Do you hear me? Run!”

“
Okay,” he squeaked.

“Promise me.”

He looked up at her solemnly, holding out his pinky finger. “I promise.”

“
He’s telling the truth,” Rohnan said.

Shanti held out her pinky, as well, though she wasn’t sure why. “Lead the way.”

Confusion crossed his face as he glanced at her finger before her words must’ve registered, because he quickly dropped his hand and said, “Yes, ma’am.” A smile lit up his face. He scampered toward Rohnan. “This way.”

His little legs moving, he burst out of the alley and across the path.

“Wait!” Rohnan sprinted after him.

“There’s no one around here,” Arsen said, scurrying along a leaning fence and then crawling under a hole in the dirt.

Rohnan pulled the top of the fence. A crack announced its destruction. Rohnan finished it off with his foot, bending it toward the ground as the rest of the barrier fell.

“Someone is going to be pissed about that,” Shanti said, jogging into the unkempt yard after him. Weeds tangled her feet, tall and wild.

“It’s abandoned.” Arsen waved them on. “This whole row is.”

“Why?” Shanti wondered quietly as she followed behind him to the next yard, then the next, jumping over or helping fences finish their fall to the ground.

“There are a few others like this in the city. One was mine. No one lives in it now.” Arsen got to the end of the row and crouched in the shadow of a decaying wooden structure. “Sometimes there’s a bad guy out there.”

Rohnan closed in on the bent and slightly swaying fence, then squatted. He glanced over the side, paused for a moment, and lowered back down. To Arsen, he said, “How close are we?”

“Three streets away.”

Rohnan looked at Shanti. “It’s an Inkna on horseback. No one else is on the street.”

Frowning, she moved to the fence and glanced over. There he was, in the middle of a medium-sized thoroughfare, a solitary figure sitting atop his mount. He seemed to be waiting for something.

She noticed the area around him, placing the wild batch of shrubs on the corner. She vaguely realized where she was, never having viewed the area from this vantage point, but recognizing the layout of that intersection. “Produce carts and horses often use that way, don’t they?”

“Before the bad guys.” Arsen stayed where he was, hunkered down. “Now only bad guys’ horses come and go.”

Shanti rolled her eyes. “The gate. This leads out to the side gate.”

Rohnan’s eyes collided with hers. “This is where they will take Junice out of the city. I’ve seen this done before. They’ll tie her behind the horse and drag her—” He cut off, glancing at Arsen.

Shanti didn’t need him to finish the sentence. The Graygual wanted to create a spectacle. They must’ve told Cayan to come quietly, Cayan would’ve refused, and now they intended to weaken him. The Hunter had taken note of what crippled the men of this city. He would strike by brutalizing one of the wives. The Inkna was guarding the starting point and then probably the procession. Him being there now meant their fun was about to begin.

“We don’t have any time.” Shanti threw off her shields and let her
Gift
flower out. It brushed the mind of the Inkna immediately, the power of the other fairly substantial. The Inkna’s head turned her way.

She
stabbed.
But not the man.

The horse screamed, rearing. The Inkna, taken by surprise, gripped the reins but didn’t brace for it. His body flew. The horse bolted forward, the reins ripped out of the Inkna’s hands, jolting his shoulders midair. He hit the ground with a crack.

Rohnan was on him as Shanti stifled his
Gift,
beating down into his head and crushing his ability. Rohnan grabbed the man by the hair, pulled, and then slid his knife across the throat. A gurgle sounded the end of the Inkna’s life.

Shanti turned to Arsen, who was peeping over the fence. “You don’t go beyond this point. I know where I am, and I’m going to cause trouble.”

“Yes, Miss Shanti.”

“Okay.” Then, because it felt right, she said to him what she, and the other fighters, often said to the children from her village when they left their sight, even for a moment. “I’ll miss you.”

She almost missed his shy but delighted smile as she turned and met up with Rohnan. Grabbing the Inkna’s ankles, she helped carry him out of plain sight. “We’re leaving a huge trail of blood.”

“His absence will be noticed. I figured I might as well get rid of a little aggression.”

“Cracking a neck doesn’t do it for you anymore? My, my, Rohnan.” Shanti dropped her half and dusted off her hands, waiting for Rohnan to fling his half so the body was hidden behind a heap of garbage. “You’re getting pretty violent…”

“They’ve created a smoldering hatred inside of me,
Chulan.
Killing in this way won’t cure that, but it does make me feel better. For now.”

“Well, then. Continue to slit throats. We may only have a small amount of time in which to do so.” Shanti started to jog down the street, keeping to the sides and somewhat out of sight.

“Yes. We’ve just sounded the alarm. He was one of the stronger Inkna.”

“And now he is a dead Inkna.” Nearing the next intersection, she felt the touch of power. It was only a glance at first, but it became a pressure. Someone didn’t recognize her mind and wanted a better look.

The joke was on him.

She
grabbed
his mind with her substantial strength and
yanked,
sucking him in. She held on like gripping a rope, sapping him of energy as they ran. When they reached him, Rohnan pulled him down off his horse, making quick work with his knife. Blood soon pooled under the various holes in the Inkna’s body.

“Now you’re just showing off.” Shanti helped him carry the Inkna out of sight, and then tethered the horse off to the side and out of plain view. Hopefully no one would come close enough to see the blood. With no time to spare, they started running again, soon reaching Junice’s house.

The shriek from inside froze Shanti’s insides.

She burst through the door. A woman lay on the floor, eyes closed. No blood. A thump and another shriek sounded off to the left. The kitchen.

“No you don’t!” someone shouted.

A slap of skin on skin rang out, following by a woman’s gasp of pain. A clatter rang through the house.

With her
Gift
,
Shanti identified three men and two women, one single-minded and the other terrified. Shanti
squeezed
the three male minds to render them immobile, not sure if they were all Graygual, so reluctant to kill just yet.

“Run, Junice!” a woman shouted.

Shanti sped between the homely furniture, arriving at the kitchen just as Valencia jabbed one of the Graygual in the kidney with a carving knife, a grim look on her face. He called out, staggering into the stove and slipping, dragging a pot down with him.

Valencia stepped over him toward the next Graygual, her brow furrowed with concentration.

Shanti’s knife got there first, the hilt hitting his neck. He reached for it as his body slammed back into the third Graygual. There was not enough room for everyone in that kitchen. Blood gushed between his fingers and down his front. He sank to his knees.

The last Graygual stood rigid, his face screwed up in agony. His hand clutched Junice’s front, having yanked her to him as his fellow fighter fell against him. He staggered, ramming her hip against the edge of the table. Her hand came away from her face to catch herself. Blood oozed from a cut on her temple, trickling down her cheek and dripping from her chin. Her palm slid against the table surface, smearing blood.

Valencia stepped over the dying bodies on the floor. With two hands on the raised hilt of her knife, brow furrowed in concentration, she drove her blade into the Graygual. The point pierced his chest, forcing a groan from the man’s mouth. His fist tightened on Junice’s dress front, wrenching her to him again as he staggered backward into the wall. A framed picture tumbled down, rattling to the floor in its cheap wooden frame. Valencia yanked her knife free as Shanti applied more force, finally driving the Graygual to his knees.

Valencia stabbed down a second time. He clearly wasn’t dying fast enough for her taste.

His grip finally released. Junice stumbled to the side, trying to regain her bearing on wobbly knees. Rohnan waded in, grabbing Junice and whisking her up into his arms. With the balance of a natural fighter, he threaded through the bodies and blood on the ground and rushed her into the outer room. Her wound was not life threatening, but would require aid.

“Well then.” Valencia snatched a little towel off the stove. Without haste, standing next to a man sounding his death rattle, she ran the blade against the towel, cleaning off the blood. She slipped it into the sheath, all safe again. That done, she looked up with a nonchalant expression. “Not exactly like killing a pig, but close enough.” She dropped the knife into her apron pocket and made her way out of the kitchen.

As Shanti blinked after her for a moment, one thing became clear: they had more fighters than she’d originally thought. These women might not be trained, but they would help take back their city. Shanti had just guaranteed that that would happen sooner rather than later.

Chapter Nineteen

As the light crawled across the expansive floor, Qadir sat before his dinner. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the savory aroma of a dinner prepared by a skilled artisan. In front of him, swirling with colors, sat a hand-blown glass of the finest quality. True craftsmen, these people. Their goods could fetch a handsome price at market.

He would make a note to pass on this information, but it was hardly his discovery. After all, the Inkna’s botched attempt at a takeover had made these people infamous. The Inkna salivated with the desire to torture and kill, desiring vengeance for their dead kinsmen.

The hatred was cyclical. After all, the Inkna had started it.

He paused in his efforts of readying a bite as the sounds of his Battle Commander’s footsteps echoed down the hall. Qadir waited until the man came into view, his shoulders back and his six stripes worn proudly on his breast. Something haunted his eyes, though. He didn’t have his usual air of confidence and superiority.

That meant something had gone wrong.

Qadir lowered his fork slowly, watching his Battle Commander come to a precise stop. His body poised and hands at his sides, his man waited for Qadir to speak first, as he should.

Scenarios flashed through Qadir’s head. He loved to anticipate his enemy. This one especially. The woman was such an enigma. She seemed to defy him at every turn, presenting him with problems he hadn’t thought possible, let alone likely.

Of course, this was just the raven-haired man in question. The Captain. Judging by the setup of the city, its organization and prosperity, and the love of his people, he was at the upper tier of adversaries. He would present a challenge, Qadir had no doubt. But divine? Assuredly not. There couldn’t be more than one Fate-touched. Whatever had gone wrong was most probably easily remedied.

“Yes?” Qadir finally asked.

“Sir, we’ve had a problem. It seems as though the men sent to deliver the message to the Captain have disappeared.”

Qadir reached for his wine. “Surely they were just destroyed. I expected that.”

“No, sir. They didn’t leave the city.”

Perplexed, Qadir paused, his wine hovering above the table. Scenarios shifted.