How is this even possible?
I search the ground for something I can use, and my eyes land on a sturdy tree branch. I place myself behind the floating sword as it advances toward Temra and swing. The branch connects, and I feel the strike bounce up my arms. Temra uses the distraction I made to thrust her blade forward.
A cry rises from the invisible person, and Temra draws back her blade, the point now stained with blood. There’s a thud, and then a red stain floats above the ground, moving forward and backward slightly.
With the strained breathing of the injured person.
Temra removes their weapon before running to help Kellyn. Meanwhile, I lean forward, grab a fistful of cloth, and tug. It catches on something. I feel around until I find a clasp at a throat. I sense fitful movement before everything stills and the rest of the garment comes free.
Beneath is a woman bearing the warlord’s colors, her glassy eyes unseeing. And the cloak I removed materializes once it’s no longer being worn. It’s a finely stitched cloth bearing a striped pattern of tans and beiges. I would think it completely unremarkable if I hadn’t seen what it could do once worn.
The assailant’s forearms are also invisible, and I remove her gloves, which likewise materialize, bearing the exact same stitching as the cloak.
I turn around in time to see Kellyn make contact with his attacker just before Temra reaches him. His strike connects with flesh, bone, sinew—each of these is revealed once the material of the cloak rips with the force of the blow.
And then an arm appears on the ground. I stare at it a moment, unable to process what happened while deep screams fill the air. Once I realize that Kellyn cut it off, I immediately start gagging. Temra silences the attacker’s cries with a well-placed thrust through the heart.
No one moves as we listen for any more attackers. But all is still. No more bastard swords appear, which must clearly be the preferred weapon among Kymora’s men. Temra and Kellyn are both breathing heavily, and I tenderly touch my scalp. Feels as though I’ve got a bald spot about the size of two finger pads in the back.
Now that the danger is gone, I round on my sister, prepared to give her the tongue-lashing of her life for not fleeing when I told her to.
Instead, I come face-to-face with an enraged Kellyn.
“Do you want to tell me what in the twin hells just happened?”
I blink.
“Invisible assassins are where I’m more than allowed to draw the line. Those weren’t sent by your family. One of the assailants tried to drag you off. This is what you were running from back in Lirasu. Who is hunting you and why?”
Temra and I share a look, and I still don’t know whether or not to trust Kellyn. If this had happened before his poor behavior at the Dancing Kiwi, maybe I wouldn’t hesitate, but now that I know what he’s really like—
“We’re on the run from Warlord Kymora Avedin,” Temra says, making the decision for us both. I suppose keeping him in the dark isn’t really an option should he threaten to leave.
“Kymora,” he deadpans, “as in the former leader of the kingdom’s armies? Currently the most dangerous person in all of Ghadra? Unbeatable swordswoman. That Kymora?”
“Yes.”
Kellyn’s eyes widen, as though he hadn’t actually expected Temra to confirm it.
“She’s after me,” I hurry to explain. “Because of what I can do. She wants me to make weapons for her army so she can overthrow the territory leaders and rule all of Ghadra herself.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Kellyn says.
“She cut herself on Secret Eater. I heard her.”
Kellyn looks between me and Temra, as though he’s not sure where to settle his eyes. “And just how do invisible assassins fit in?”
Temra stands by me, offering her strength during this confrontation. “We honestly don’t know anything about that.”
“Wait,” I say as something occurs to me. “The cotton spinner. The only other girl with magic. She must be working for Kymora. She’s made cloaks and gloves that render the wearers invisible.”
“Great,” Kellyn says. “So there’s the potential for more invisible assassins coming our way.”
In the silence that follows his statement, a few birds overhead start chirping to one another. The trees sway in the wind, and the shifting clouds finally let the sun shine down through gaps in the canopy.
And then there are hurried steps on the forest floor. Temra and Kellyn raise their weapons once more, turning toward the threat.
Petrik is running as fast as he can, brandishing the staff in two hands. He stops once he reaches us, looks down at the bodies on the ground. “Everyone all right? What did I miss?”
Kellyn shakes his head. “Did you know about this? That the warlord is hunting them?”
“I suspected,” Petrik answers after his initial surprise. Then the ground captures his attention. The severed arm still wears a glove, so it’s invisible from just below the elbow to the tips of its fingers. Either Petrik’s totally unaffected by the gore or he’s so blinded by his fascination with magic, because he bends down, feels around the invisible arm, registers that it’s a glove, removes it, and then goes searching for the rest of the magically enhanced fabric. He gathers it all and folds the blood-soaked garments to his side.
Kellyn shakes his head at the scholar as he returns his sword once more to its scabbard. “I’m out.”
“What?” I blurt.
“I’m not about to piss off a warlord. If she knows I’m protecting you, my life is over.”
“You—you can’t abandon us!”
“You didn’t tell me what was happening. If I had known the full facts I never would have taken this job.”
I’m shaking my head, not wanting to believe what he’s saying. “You can’t be that selfish! We need you.”
“It was selfish of you not to tell me everything,” he counters. “I should have known what I was up against, what I was risking.”
“You risk your life every day being a mercenary!”
“That’s different than going against a warlord and her private army, and you know it.”
I look down at my feet, a little ashamed, but mostly angry. At Kellyn. At myself. At everything.
The silence stretches and stretches, no one moving. I’m torn between running and staying right where I am so I don’t draw attention to myself. I feel like crying for some reason.
Kellyn growls, and I look up to find him glaring at me. No one else. Me. “I will get you to the next city as I promised, but after that I’m done.”
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
I have a restless mind, one that fixates on the things that bother me the most.
And right now that’s Kellyn.
I remember him drunk and fighting against another mercenary. I remember the way he slaughtered a pack of wolves, kicked one off me before it could go for my throat. The way he looks at me when he tries to understand what I’m thinking.
And over and over again, the way he hesitated before saving my sister.
Fighting invisible assassins.
Buying me new clothes.
Putting flowers on my pillow.
He thinks you’re a beauty.
The next night after Kymora’s assassins attacked us, Temra and Kellyn are laughing during her sparring session over something. I think they’re reliving the high of the other night’s battle.
Petrik and I scowl from the sidelines.
How can she act like nothing is the matter? Like nothing is changing? Kellyn is abandoning us.
When I manage not to think about the mercenary, I watch Petrik and Temra together.
“Let me help you with that,” she says while he cooks. She stirs the pot while Petrik adds ingredients. Their fingers brush when Temra hands the spoon over to Petrik so he can taste the food for a flavor check. She watches his lips while he swallows.
And though he keeps a carefully neutral face, there’s some extra color on his cheeks.
And I can’t help but feel like an outcast all of a sudden.