“You think they spotted us?” Mina asked.
“If they weren’t above the cloud line,” Malou said, looking at the steep road through the windows. “They would’ve seen us riding uphill.”
“Come on.” Mina grabbed my elbow and steered me out of the shop.
I rushed back out onto the street, nearly colliding with Malou’s back when she halted.
“Shit,” she hissed.
I leaned past her, staring down the road to see a mob of seven black cloaks. They wore black scarves that covered their mouths and noses, their eyes shadowed in the depths of their hoods. Obsidian feathers covered their shoulders, shimmering with iridescence.
I’d never seen the weapons they wielded before. The blades curved like a scythe around the knuckles of their gloved hands. One flipped it over and back, spinning the blade by its hook. I assessed the claw-like weapons, expecting they’d use them like an extension of their own fists. I made a note to not let any of their blows land. Normally, I could get away with absorbing a few punches, but not if a blade sharpened them.
They crowded around one figure and my pulse doubled its speed when I realized it was Ora.
My feet were moving before I could stop myself. “Hey!” I shouted, drawing a few of their gazes.
“Calla,” Malou hissed. “What are you doing?”
“Go get help,” I called over my shoulder. Neither of them looked like they knew how to fight, and I didn’t need to be worrying for them when I needed to be focused on fighting. The best thing they could do at that moment was stay out of my way.
I clenched the handle of the knife in my pocket, glad I had placed it there out of habit that morning. It wasn’t my dagger, but it was better than nothing.
Three of the Rooks turned, guffawing as they sized me up. I knew I looked pathetic with the paring knife in my hand. Good. They wouldn’t fight me like they would a soldier.
“Calla, run!” Ora shouted when they spotted me. Their wide, panicked eyes undercut their warning. I wouldn’t leave them to this wild pack of Sawyn’s lackeys.
“Listen to your friend,” the nearest Rook said in Taigosi. I could tell from his tone that he was smiling, even though I couldn’t see his mouth.
A few more Rooks stepped away from the wagon. Perfect. If I could train all their eyes on me, then it would give Ora a chance to flee . . . one I hoped they’d take. With any luck, Navin would return any minute and then maybe the tides would turn. Navin wore a dagger on his belt and I prayed he knew how to use it. Three against seven was far better odds.
“Are you afraid to lose to someone like me?” I fluttered my lashes, pretending to be demure like Briar did so well. I dropped into a mock curtsy, the gesture egging them on.
I remembered the wide, wary eyes of the men from nights before and my lips twisted into a wicked grin. My smile alone made the first Rook stall and I chuckled as the rest charged.
They were fast. I’d give them that. I ducked under the swinging claws of the first attacker and stabbed my knife into the back of his knee. In, then out. I shot back away from him before he could lash out. He screamed, falling to one knee, as I whirled on the next Rook. My blade snagged on his cloak but didn’t connect. I thanked the Moon they didn’t wield long swords, but even just the reach of their arms was far greater than mine.
I heard Vellia’s voice in my head: No high strikes. The cloaks would get in the way. Aim for the legs.
The boot of another Rook connected with my hip and I twisted, trying to keep them all within my line of sight.
Don’t spin. Don’t give them your back.
I blocked a sweeping blow downward with my knife.
Lock your guard. Straight arms.
Two charged me at once and I dropped to one knee, too low for their scythes to reach. Fast as a striking snow snake, I stabbed my knife into one’s calf and the other straight through the Rook’s boot. Before I could rise, another boot collided with my back, stomping me to the ground. I barked out a pained cry as my chin collided with the gravel and my teeth clacked together. The flesh split as the dusty stones pressed into the open wound. I blindly swung my hand backward and my knife nicked the attacker. He lifted his foot off my back to avoid my blade, and I rolled. The slope of the hill made it easier to get out from under him as he tripped backward. Crouching, I watched the hesitation cross their faces.
I tilted my head, letting my Wolf speak for me. “Not the opponent you were expecting?”
I goaded them forward. Three more charged and I slashed my knife in tight arches, controlling the group and only allowing one to enter my striking range at a time.
“Fun’s over,” a mean voice growled and I whipped my head to see the Rook that had Ora pinned to the wagon unsheathe a dagger from his hip.
Shit. So they did have other weapons.
Ora’s eyes widened as they stared at the dagger. Without thinking, I threw my knife. A sickening, wet thunk sounded as it pierced through the attacker’s ear into their skull. His shrieks died on his lips as he fell forward.
A walloping blow to the back of my legs toppled me, gravel biting into my knees. I had thrown away my only weapon and given them my back.
Breathe. Think.
Bile rose in my throat as I stared at their glinting scythes. The dropped dagger was only a few paces behind me, crimson blood pooling beneath it. If I could get to it, I’d have a fighting chance. But as the Rook’s fist came crashing down, all thoughts left my head. I twisted on instinct as the scythe smashed into the gravel beside my ear. I glanced over to see a few locks of my hair sliced off.
Too close.
A boot stomped on my sternum, knocking the air out of me, and I grabbed a handful of gravel, whipping it up into my attacker’s eyes. The pressure on my chest lessened, and I twisted the boot, hoping to snap the Rook’s ankle. I didn’t feel the pop, but he hopped backward, nonetheless. I scrambled back to my feet, turning toward the dagger on the ground.
Don’t turn your back.
In my desperation I’d forgot the most important rule: defenses up, always. I felt the whoosh of a nearly missed kick behind me and then a scream. I didn’t look back, racing to the dagger and snatching it.
Yes.
Another scream rang out as a feral growl rent the air and I clenched my jaw. I knew that sound. I whirled around and the sight of the carnage blasted through me.
Seven mutilated bodies lay scattered across the road, and standing in the middle of them was Grae.
Seventeen
He looked like a God in obsidian leathers, his hair tied in a knot atop his head, and blood splattering his face. The sight of him made my whole body pulse like a war drum. His chest heaved as he stared down at the bodies with brutal wrath . . . and I knew it was because of me. The Rooks had attacked his mate and he’d shredded them apart for it, Wolf taking over.
More than all that?