There was a shout behind her, and Kyra turned to see Dalton running at her with his sword raised. This time, she was faster. Kyra sprang to the side as he swung, and bit down on his sword arm. He screamed, and the sound thrilled her. His blood, warm in her mouth, fueled her growing battle fury. She threw him to the ground with a quick jerk of her neck. He was a large man, but she tossed him around as easily as if he were a child.
Pain exploded in her back leg. Kyra screamed and looked back just as Santon raised his dagger again. She kicked out with her hind legs, catching him squarely in the chest. The dagger clattered to the ground, the clank of metal harsh in her ears. As Santon skidded across the dirt, Kyra felt a wave of disdain. She slashed at him with her claws, opening four ribbons of red along his torso. His cry of pain brought her some satisfaction, and she moved in for the kill. His screams broke off as her jaws closed around his throat. She held on as he struggled, but that didn’t last very long at all, and soon he fell still. It had been too easy, and her blood was still hot. Kyra let go of his throat and tore at the now lifeless body, venting her frustration. Then she remembered there were two more. She raised her head and pricked her ears.
“Kyra!”
She heard the words as if from far away. She turned to the sound, teeth bared, but the speaker wasn’t one of the wall-huggers who had attacked her. Kyra recognized Tristam even in the midst of her rage, and he was walking slowly toward her, speaking gently, though she couldn’t quite make sense of the words. She growled deep in her throat. Even if she didn’t want to fight him, he was keeping her from her prey. She turned away, but he said her name again, and his voice pulled at her, calm but insistent.
He kept talking, his hands held placatingly out in front of him. Kyra backed up as he came closer, puzzled at why he was neither fighting nor running away. Slowly, her blood cooled just enough so that Kyra understood she should change back. She gathered the heat, the feeling of her fur, and pushed it back inside, letting out a sigh as her body melted in on itself. Tristam was ready with her clothes as her skin became smooth and she started to shiver. Her nails were covered with blood.
“Kyra?” Tristam searched her eyes as if he was afraid he wouldn’t find her there. “Kyra, what happened?”
She shook her head, trying to focus her eyes. It felt as if all the blood in her skull was pounding to get out. “Lord Agan’s sons. They came upon me while I was leaving.…We fought…I…” She broke off as she took in the destruction around her. Dalton was on the ground, moaning and cradling his arm. Douglass was nowhere to be seen. And on the ground behind her…
Kyra’s stomach reacted instantly to the sight. She jerked away from Tristam and retched, though there wasn’t much in her stomach. She could sense Tristam behind her, but he didn’t touch her. As her gut stopped spasming, she wiped her mouth and forced herself to look again.
Santon’s body was barely recognizable as human. The arms and legs were splayed at awkward angles. The face was covered in blood, the neck torn open. Kyra looked away, unable to reconcile her exultant memories, the bloodlust that still echoed in her veins, with the mangled corpse in front of her. She’d done that to Santon. She’d heard his screams and she’d…She couldn’t think it.
Tristam grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. The fear in his eyes was very, very real. That more than anything brought her mind back.
“Kyra, listen to me.” He was looking around. Shouts echoed nearby. When he looked back at her, some of the fear was replaced by determination. “You have to go,” he said. “Leave the Palace. Leave the city.”
Leave the city. Just like that? But they’d had plans in place. When the Palace finally found out, Kyra was going to convince Malikel that she posed no threat. That even though she shared blood with the Demon Riders, she wasn’t a danger.
A bloodcurdling scream rent the air. It was Dalton. He had turned over onto his side, and his eyes were fixed on Santon’s remains. A dull heaviness weighed down Kyra’s chest. How could she think of convincing anyone that she wasn’t a danger now? Tristam was right. Fleeing was the only choice left to her.
“What about you?” she asked Tristam.