Galren was very wrong. She jerked her head back, slamming it against the forehead of the man who held her from behind. His arms dropped, and she spun, sweeping her foot beneath Galren’s legs in front of her. He went down hard, but when she tried to go for her knives again, he snatched at her ankles, and then she was the one sprawling on the floor. She kicked out, her boot connecting with something hard.
She scrambled across the floor toward her knives and found one as the heavyset man recovered and grabbed her legs. Her hand slid over the blade first, but she gripped it tightly, uncaring about the cuts to her fingers. The soldier yanked her backward, and Roar screamed, flailing her legs. The knife was slick with her own blood, but she managed to get her hand on the hilt and swung it back at the soldier, catching him in the forearm and freeing her legs. The momentary reprieve allowed her to look backward, and she saw Galren stalking toward her, his cheek split and bleeding from what must have been her boot. She didn’t think, only acted, and she sent the knife flying. It slammed into his thigh in a spot she knew would bleed a lot and quickly. As blood poured from his wound, and the other two soldiers stared in shock, the broken door to her room flew back on its hinges again.
“Don’t touch her.” The growl came from Locke as Ransom and Jinx entered the room behind him.
Hamish rushed to Galren as he stumbled, his hand going to the knife in his thigh. The heavyset soldier growled, “What are you going to do about it? She attacked a member of the Locke military.”
Locke’s eyes went ice-cold. “I don’t like soldiers. Especially not from Locke. I watched my sister swing from a noose in Duvrall square thanks to pigs like you. And nothing would bring me more pleasure than gutting each and every one of you. If you even look at her again, I’ll take my time.”
Galren snorted, but his face had grown pale. His uniform was drenched with blood, and his feet slipped in the pool of it on the floor. He rasped, “We’ve over a hundred soldiers in this town. You would never make it out of this room alive.”
“Maybe not,” Ransom said, his bulky arms crossed over his broad chest. “But neither will you if you don’t get that bleeding to stop. And your two friends would be dead before anyone even knew to come running.”
“Easy,” Hamish said, one hand outstretched. He’d been the one to halfheartedly try to rein in Galren. “We’re not looking to start anything. We’re here searching for a kidnapped princess.”
Locke growled, “The only woman I see in trouble here was put in danger by your men. And considering you are not in your own territory, I don’t think anyone in this town would fault me for killing you.”
“We’ll leave,” Hamish said. “We’ve done what we came for. There’s still more of the town to search.”
Hamish grabbed Galren by the back of his collar, tugging him toward the door. He stumbled, grown weak from blood loss. Roar fought the strong impulse to find another knife and send it into the soldier’s back. Just when she had started to get her confidence back, that monster had made her feel helpless all over again. And unlike a storm, he could be hurt by a knife. She wanted to hurt him.
But then all three soldiers pushed past the hunters and out of the room.
Locke was by her side a moment later, his hands cupping her face. She kept her eyes down because she didn’t want to see the look Locke wore. It didn’t matter if she saw rage or pity there—both would make her feel inadequate.
She shoved her hand in her pocket to find her brother’s Stormheart ring. Usually it calmed her. She just felt so angry and useless. Touching the Stormheart gave her some measure of peace. Not enough, but some. It eased the desire to go after those men and unleash the rage pounding through her.
One of Locke’s hands left her face to trail down her arm. “Let me see your hand,” he said.
Roar left the ring in her pocket and brought up her sliced hand for him to see. Jinx was behind him, offering up a handkerchief that he quickly wrapped around her fingers, squeezing to stop the bleeding.
“Roar, look at me.” She didn’t. She couldn’t.
Before he could ask again, the crystal in her pocket went hot and a horn blared. Locke cursed and Ransom said, “Storm?”
“Yes.” That was Duke. She wasn’t sure whether he got here before or after the soldiers left. She hoped it was after.
“Let the soldiers handle it,” Locke growled.
Duke sighed. “They won’t care at all for this town. Unless it directly threatens them, they’re unlikely to do anything.”
With her eyes still cast down, she saw Jinx’s small feet move toward the door, followed by Ransom’s. When they were both gone, Duke said, “I’ll stay with her.”
“No,” Locke growled. “I will.”
Duke sighed. “Locke—”
“Go,” Roar whispered, finally meeting his eyes.
His hand squeezed around her wrapped fingers. “You want me to leave?”
“I want the others to be safe, and the best way for that to happen is if you’re there with them.”
“I promise I won’t leave her side,” Duke said.
“I’ll be back,” Locke whispered, his head dipping toward her ear. “And then it will be me who won’t leave your side.”
Roar did not watch him go, an act she immediately regretted when she realized she had no idea what kind of storm was out there waiting for him.
*
The hunters only had to leave the inn to see the reason for the siren. It was another twister, menacingly dark and large, and it was eating up ground at such a fast pace that it might hit the edge of the village before they could get close.
Locke cursed. He looked to Ransom, and his friend’s eyes were grim.
“Sly,” Locke said, “start pulling wind away from the storm. Try to dissolve the updraft powering that thing.”
“Jinx—”
The witch didn’t even wait for Locke to give her instructions, she spouted off her own plan. “I’ll reinforce the wall in case the town gets hit. And I’ll start cooling down the earth. That should weaken the base.”
“Good,” Locke replied. “Ransom?”
“I’ve got your back.” Together they took off down the road after Jinx and Sly, Bait hard on their heels.
“What can I do?” the boy asked. He was still enough of a novice that he couldn’t do much. His only affinity was rainstorm. Locke’s gut told him to send the boy back to the inn to stay with Duke, but one look at Bait’s face told Locke that was not an order with which Bait would comply. So he gave Bait the only job he could. “We might not be able to take that thing down before it hits the village. You start hitting doors near the north end and evacuating as many people as you can.”
“Got it.”
He took off, and Locke hoped he wouldn’t regret sending him right into danger. But there wasn’t time to second-guess it now.
As they neared, he got a clearer picture of the mammoth twister. Rain poured around it, swirling with the wind and debris and sand, the latter of which gave the twister an ominous bloodred color. About a hundred paces past the wall, a line of soldiers stood in the twister’s way. They were completely still, not running. None of them appeared to be working any Stormling powers.