Page 47 of Between Fear and Favor

“You’re not going out there. Turman will keep you safe.”

“I’m not going to sit idly while your soldiers die,” she said, straightening to her full height. Though tall for a woman, she still had to look up to meet my eyes in the dim light. Dark brows tipped inward as she glared up at me. Gods, she was fierce. Despite everything life had thrown at her, she held no fear as she demanded to march to her death. Fuck, I envied her. Ever since the blade slammed into my chest, anxious, dark thoughts had crowded my mind. And now, this time, people would die because of my distress. When I shook my head no, and she shoved past me anyway, I had to make a choice. Grabbing her wrist, my forefinger and thumb wrapping around her warm skin, I dragged her close to me.

“Stay here, Nor,” I said, before weaving a vision in her mind. I rarely used this aspect of my divinity. Sometimes in hand-to-hand combat, if I was outnumbered, I’d weave a vision to turn enemies upon each other. But I’d only use it on Nor to protect her. I backed her against the wall, helping her sit down as I made it appear as if I was putting her in an alcove and shutting her in. Her mind would make her think there was a stone wall between her and her escape into the main part of the tunnel. She would press against it, shouting and struggling, because it would be real for her. I didn’t like doing it, but it was the only thing I could think of quickly.

“Dewalt!” she shouted, and her hands waved in front of her as she started beating on the imaginary barricade in her mind. It was cruel, but I needed to protect her.

“Don’t talk to her,” I ordered Turman. The man was familiar with how my visions worked, so he knew it would be harder to maintain the farther I went and the more interference there was. He nodded, drawing his sword as he stood between the shouting woman on the ground and the exit to the tunnel.

“What do I do if?—”

“Take her back to the palace if I don’t return. And make haste.”

And then I ran after my soldiers, grateful I’d bothered with my bandolier when I had woken that morning. Creeping in silence, the crunching of my boots overpowered by the sounds of fighting, I took in the scene before me. Blood darkened the crisp white snow just inside the tunnel. Eradia lay lifeless on the ground, face-down, with an arrow in her back.

I couldn’t see Runin.

The tunnel opened into a small valley, tall birch trees surrounding us, and we should have been afforded coverage from anyone who would hope to set upon us. And yet, the arrow in Eradia’s back spoke of an ambush. Though I could hear the shouts of my soldiers and our assailants, I could see no one from where I was. Stepping forward slowly, I watched for any signs of movement. Dickey shouted, and I realized he was above me. The tunnel was set in the side of the hill, and the fight was just out of my sight. Ready to join them, I took one step into the moonlight, and an arrow whizzed past my ear. It clattered to the stone behind me.

“Fuck!” I leapt back, peering into the trees. They were bare, so I hadn’t thought anyone would seek cover in them, but their archer had climbed high enough. I hadn’t even thought to look up. White clothing and blond hair blended in seamlessly with the tree, so it was no wonder they hadn’t seen him. Considering how long it took Eradia to scream, it was likely they were trying to wait out the rest of us. Perhaps she’d spotted them and ruined their plans. Pulling one of my daggers out, I took a deep breath and gripped it tightly. Hoping I didn’t misjudge the distance, I stepped out and threw the knife at the man in the tree before jumping back into the tunnel.

“Gods damn it,” I growled when another arrow hit the ground a few paces in front of me. I’d heard my knife smack into something, and I suspected it had bounced off the tree. I needed to take my time and calculate my throw better before letting go. Using the same technique as a moment before, I stepped forward. Slowly this time, I drew my arm back, taking a risk. Despite the archer doing the same, I didn’t back up, unleashing my sharpened dagger as the twang of his bow hit my ears. The breeze of an arrow went past me once more just as the thump of a body hit the ground. Dashing forward, I collected the first blade from the ground and the second from the archer’s neck. While choking on blood, his dark blue eyes met mine, and I recognized him. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old, and my stomach tightened when I looked upon his small form. Fucking hell.

Turning around, I found my soldiers standing out against the white blanket of snow on the hillside. Some of them were fighting two attackers at once. I did my best, using my throwing knives to kill two and injure two more. Spotting who I was looking for, I jumped onto the trunk of a fallen tree at the base of the hill, facing the open tunnel, and drew my sword.

“PENELLION!” I shouted, and the smuggler turned, his shaggy dark hair whipping over his shoulder. He had Dickey pinned to the ground with one hand on his neck and the other raised in a fist. Runin was on the ground beside them, unmoving. It appeared one of them had disarmed the man, but Dickey had been overpowered. “You’re far from home, you insignificant cuck,” I bellowed.

“Where is she?” he demanded before punching Dickey in the head and standing to face me. There were too many trees in the fucking way as he moved closer. I didn’t have a straight shot for my final dagger. Salas, one of my newer soldiers, tumbled down the hill, blood spraying out of her mouth. I flinched when she slammed into a tree. Fletcher pulled a dagger across someone’s neck, spitting on the body as it fell, before tucking what looked like a broken arm against his body. Half my soldiers were grievously injured or dead. Penellion and his crew wore clothing to blend in with the snow and trees, and they’d had more men. We’d been easy fucking targets in the moonlight.

Nor pushed at the boundaries of my gods damn vision, and the timing couldn’t have been worse. Grimacing, I delved into the image I’d weaved. She’d gotten a hand through the unreal wall, and it was only a matter of time before the whole thing disintegrated. She was of strong mind, and I had to hope Turman would hold her at bay. The thought of her rushing out and being harmed set my blood aflame.

“On Hanwen’s bloody sword, you will not live to see the sun. Make this simple, and I’ll grant you death before I let the wolves feast upon your flesh,” I said, pointing the tip of my sword toward him.

“Tell me where she is!” he repeated, solidifying his own desecration.

“Who? Eradia? Your boy killed her before he died,” I said. The man’s mouth dropped open, and he looked past me with the same dark blue eyes of the boy I’d killed only moments ago. I didn’t let him see any remorse I might have had for what I’d done. His son was old enough to take lives, big enough to be a threat—there had been no choice.

Penellion didn’t react as I would have expected. He picked up his sword from the ground and wiped his hand over his brow. At his words, the rest of his men stopped fighting, though they held their weapons up in defense. “There doesn’t need to be any more death tonight. I need the girl.”

“You’ve killed Eradia and Salas is barely able to sit up. I’m not sure what good either of?—”

“Fuck off, Holata. You know damn well who I’m talking about.” He tilted his head, and his posture shifted. When his tone turned to one of pleading, I let my disgust show on my face. “She could end the war. He wants to make her his queen. He’ll take Folterra and Lamera and leave Vesta alone.”

It was a threat I expected, one of the very reasons we’d left. But still, hearing it, knowing it was real, made my pulse thrum. Though its validity didn’t matter, I wondered about it. The Supreme had only demanded one thing when I’d met with him and Nereza, and that was a secret Rainier and I would keep. Nor hadn’t been mentioned. Even if he obtained her, there was no way the Supreme would back down. Not now. My grip on my sword tightened. For a moment, I debated letting the man go. He held a desperate, misguided hope for peace.

But that didn’t make sense.

Penellion and his men made money hand over fist smuggling shit into the city, so war benefited him. And yet, he wanted it to end. But it only took a second for me to realize why, and it sealed his fate. The Supreme had promised him coin, of that I was certain.

“Is it greed or stupidity which makes you think that could possibly be true?” I demanded.

Penellion marched forward, and I gripped my last throwing knife in my left hand. I wanted to swap it to my dominant hand, but that would have been too obvious. Grunting, I realized far too late that my hold on my vision had slipped, and Nor had escaped it. My attention was torn between Penellion, who drew his sword, standing high above the tunnel entrance, and the darkened path inside. Only a heartbeat passed before Nor came into sight, carrying a short sword, Turman huffing along behind her.

“Stop!” I shouted, desperate to keep her within the protection of the stone walls.

It all happened in a blur. At the time, I’d thought Penellion had leapt from above, moving with intention to harm her when he saw where my attention had gone. But I couldn’t be sure it was on purpose as snow and rock slipped out beneath his feet, and he lost his grip on his sword. I saw my chance, and I didn’t hesitate. She was there, and she was in danger. Switching hands, within a heartbeat, my dagger was flying through the air. And when Penellion crashed to the ground at Nor’s feet, my dagger protruded from his chest.

“Skies above!” Nor cried out, unable to curse even in a moment of shock. She fell to her knees beside the man as chaos reigned. In my periphery, I watched Dickey tackle a man who approached Salas. Turman joined the fray, climbing up the hillside as I moved toward Nor. Her hand hovered over my blade, and she stared at his chest in horror. “Why?” she whispered, gaping up at me. Penellion’s eyes had already closed when she rested her hands on his chest. She closed her own, mumbling the words to the final blessing, face pinched tightly. When a tear tracked down her face, my jaw clenched.

---