Page 25 of Blood Weaver
“Don’t be so sure about that, Leila,” he said.
We stood back-to-back and faced our oncoming threat with grim resolve. “Looks like I’m going to have to use magic.” I lifted the hand that wasn’t clutching my dagger and readied myself.
Right before we were about to launch an attack, a battle cry rang out in the distance and suddenly a group of twenty or so Crimson Clan members materialized from the shadows and roofs of the surrounding area with Ronan leading the charge.
“I don’t like when others touch what’s mine.” Ronan approached the leader of the bandits while stretching his hands and wrists, preparing for a fight.
The leader of the bandits sneered and tried to mask his growing anxiety. “Who says she's yours?”
Ronan simply raised an eyebrow, the cold fire in his eyes doing more damage than words ever could. The Crimson Clan members fanned out and surrounded the remaining bandits. The numbers were now on our side.
“Back off,” the leader growled, casting worried glances at his fellow bandits, who hesitated as they glanced between him and the overwhelming force before them.
Ronan laughed, a dark and foreboding sound that echoed eerily along the quiet street. “Do you truly think you can take on the Crimson Clan? You should've done your research before picking a fight here.”
With just a snap of Ronan’s fingers, the Crimson Clan attacked in sync, cutting the bandits down as if they were nothing but tree branches. The scene that unfolded was a well-choreographed dance of death. The Crimson Clan, known throughout the realm for their precision and ruthless efficiency, sprang into action with deadly grace. Each movement, each strike, was executed with the kind of expertise only years of training and experience could bring.
I watched in awe. The bandits were clearly outmatched. Their frantic movements and desperate cries stood in stark contrast to the silent, focused aggression of the Clan.
It was over in minutes. The bandits, including their leader, lay defeated, some unconscious, others nursing their wounds, and some … dead. Ronan walked over to the bandit leader who was trying to crawl away, clutching a bleeding gash on his side. With one swift motion, Ronan pinned him to the ground with his foot, pressing just enough to cause discomfort but not enough to seriously harm.
“Now,” Ronan said, his voice cold and steely, “you will tell your friends to spread the word. The Crimson Clan is not to be trifled with, and the healer is off limits. Do you understand?”
The bandit leader nodded frantically, his eyes wide with fear. “Yes, yes, I understand!”
Ronan removed his foot and glared down at the man. “Leave. And remember this night,” he warned.
The bandit leader nodded, then crawled to his feet and gestured for his gang to retreat. They disappeared into the dark alleyway and left the street silent once again, save for the distant sounds of the festival.
With the threat eliminated, Ronan turned to me. “Are you alright?”
I sighed. “I’m fine. Everything would have been fine. I can handle things,” I slurred and stumbled on my feet. Orion caught me before I fell.
Ronan frowned. “Are you … are you drunk?”
“No,” I scowled.
“Yes, she is,” Orion answered. “Very.”
Ronan sheathed his sword and walked toward me. “I’ll take you home.” He reached to grab me, but Orion stood in his way.
“No offense,friend, but I don’t know you. It’s best if I escort Miss Leila home myself.”
Ronan scoffed. “Friend? I don’t befriend the fae.” He glared at Orion’s pointed ears. “How do you know Leila?”
I could barely keep myself standing, much less follow the convoluted arc of their conversation. I wanted to say something to stop their verbal sparring match, but when my stomach lurched, all thoughts beyond self-preservation fled.
Orion laughed. “Does it matter how I know her? What I’m wondering is whoyouare?” He glanced around at the group of warriors. “I know Leila well enough to know she wouldn’t befriend anyone from the Crimson Clan.”
Ronan’s hand edged to the hilt of his sword. “Is that so? Well maybe you don’t know her as well as youthinkyou do.”
“Oh, I know her rather well.”
Ronan reached for me and grabbed my other arm as Orion held the other. Stuck in a tug of war between them, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I gagged and emptied my stomach right between where they stood. They released me immediately and stepped out of the splash zone, wearing matching grimaces.
Orion gallantly handed me a handkerchief and pointed to his face, letting me know I was a mess. I accepted his handkerchief and wiped my mouth hurriedly. Even though I hated to throw up, I had to admit I felt clear headed for the first time in hours.
“Are … are you okay?” Ronan asked hesitantly.
