She’d just left the inner compound when someone called her name. His voice was thick with disdain, and Kyra’s stomach knotted in recognition even before her mind registered who it was. She turned to see Lord Agan’s son Santon walking toward her, flanked by his two brothers.
“Where are you going, Kyra of Forge?” he said. There was an unnatural loudness to his voice and just the slightest hint of unsteadiness in his step. A wind blew from their direction, and Kyra smelled wine.
Kyra cursed under her breath. Of all the times to run into these wallhuggers. The pathways around her were empty of passersby. Just her luck. Or had they waited until no one was around? Not tonight. I don’t need this tonight. The mere sight of them disgusted her. Kyra backed away, though she didn’t want to move so quickly that she’d appear frightened. The wall-huggers drew closer.
“Off to interfere with someone else’s business?” said Santon.
“Girl doesn’t know her place,” said his younger brother. Kyra thought he was the one named Douglass.
“Just like that gutter rat she played hero for,” said the third brother, Dalton.
Her eyes flicked quickly to the swords they wore at their belts. It was too bad that the unevenness in their step wasn’t more pronounced. They’d still be able to handle the swords well enough to give her trouble. The wise thing to do would be to run away. There were plenty of places she could escape to. At least she wasn’t boxed in by crowds as she’d been the last time, but the thought of turning tail and fleeing the cowards left a bitter taste in her mouth.
“How’s your gutter rat friend, Kyra?” Santon asked. “She healing up all right?”
Just ignore them. These noblemen weren’t worth the trouble. The building next to her had a chimney she could scale. She could be out of their reach in a few moments. Kyra did her best to push images of Idalee out of her mind, the fearful way the girl had scanned the Palace grounds as they’d left Ilona’s care.
“Too bad the magistrate never found the people who beat the wench,” said Santon with a savage smile. Kyra gritted her teeth. She took a firm hold on the chimney and dug her fingers into depressions in the stone. It was icy cold, but she barely felt it.
“Gutter rat wasn’t worth the magistrate’s time,” said Dalton. “Her type’s only good for cleaning chamber pots and the occasional late-night sport.”
She froze.
“Better flip the order of that, Dalton. Imagine the stink otherwise,” said Santon.
Kyra lowered her hand and slowly turned back toward the wallhuggers. “Shut your mouths and go home,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet.
It took the noblemen a few moments to process her words. They hadn’t expected her to come back toward them. They hadn’t expected her to give them a command. And they were far too arrogant to heed the threat that infused every one of her words. Santon stood for a moment, and then the smile slowly returned to his face. “Girl wants to play hero again.”
“If you know what’s good for you,” said Kyra, “you’ll leave right now.” There was a spark of anger in her stomach, and she nurtured it. Even as she spoke, she was hoping they wouldn’t listen to her. She saw Idalee’s crumpled form on the ground as the wallhuggers kicked her, heard the girl’s choked cries. No, Kyra most definitely did not want Santon and his brothers to do as they were told.
“Don’t be giving threats to those above your station, Kyra,” said Santon, closing the distance between them. “You think you’re safe because you’re on Palace grounds? You’re nothing but a glorified gutter rat, and you’ll end up just like your friend.”