He struck her across the face then, his hand moving fast and sure. She put up an arm to block him, but Santon was strong enough that the blow still connected and knocked her halfway over. Kyra stayed bent over, one hand to her aching jaw, waiting for the tears to clear from her eyes. There was a coppery taste in her mouth where she’d bitten her cheek. Her dagger was in her boot, but she didn’t reach for it.
Santon grabbed her arm and shoved her to the ground. Pain lanced through Kyra’s shoulder as she hit the cobblestones, and she rolled away from him. Before he could come closer, she unfastened her cloak and pulled her tunic over her head, shivering as the icy wind blew through the thin shift she wore underneath. The small voice of restraint inside her whispered one more warning, and she thrust it savagely into a far corner of her mind.
Santon slowed, staring at Kyra as she stepped out of her boots and onto the frigid ground. For a moment, he was uncertain, his wine-addled mind trying to make sense of her actions. Then his smile took on a different tone. “Well, this is new. Is this how you actually managed to rise through the ranks? Maybe Sir Malikel has better judgment than we gave him credit for.” Douglas and Dalton circled behind her. Kyra’s skin crawled, but still, she didn’t move.
Footsteps sounded from around the corner. A Red Shield, a guard on patrol, stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes going from Kyra, huddled on the ground in her shift, to the brothers surrounding her.
“Continue on your rounds,” Santon ordered. “Stay clear of this space for a while.”
In an all-too-familiar routine, the guard backed away and left. Kyra couldn’t keep the fury from her face as she stared after him. Coward.
Santon’s lips curled, and he bent down to her level. “Don’t be so na?ve,” he said. “And try to smile a little. This is better than you deserve.” He grabbed a fistful of her collar, pulling her face close to his.
And Kyra let her anger explode.
T W E L V E
Santon didn’t seem to realize what was happening at first. He was too close to see her clearly, and his mind was slow from drink. But soon enough the leer on his face turned to confusion, and Kyra could tell by the exclamations behind her that his brothers had noticed something wasn’t right. Santon lost his hold on her as her bones lengthened and her limbs stretched. She pushed him away and kicked off her trousers as her shift began to tear and rip away. Santon hit the ground with a grunt. Kyra climbed to her feet and settled herself onto all fours.
In hindsight, it had been a mistake to wait until the wallhuggers were so close before changing. If they had been thinking clearly, they could have killed her right then and there. But thankfully the three of them stood paralyzed even as Kyra’s vision took on that newly familiar clarity and her thoughts faded into instinct…and rage.
“What by the three cities…” Santon whispered.
Footsteps pounded behind her, growing more distant, and Kyra turned just in time to see Douglass rounding a corner. The sight of him fleeing brought an intense desire to run him down, though she hesitated—the other two were right here. Then Santon and Dalton also turned to flee, and she no longer had to choose between staying or giving chase.
Santon was laughably slow, hardly a challenge at all. She knocked him off his feet; he rolled and jumped back up with his sword drawn. The blade glinted in the moonlight. Kyra hesitated, and Santon took that opportunity to charge. His sword came down on her shoulder, but it felt like a bludgeon instead of a cut as the edge glanced off her fur. Kyra batted the weapon out of his hand.