Page 96 of Warrior's Reign
Reign’s fingertips grazed the teen’s neck. He slumped, and she lowered him to the floor. His friends were still chatting, eyes trained on the Imperial warriors as they methodically searched the crowd. She sneered. Slow. Sacrificing speed for thoroughness, just like palace trained soldiers. Sometimes matters called for speed and a bit of sloppiness to get the job done.
Reign stepped into the flier, requested manual controls, and lifted off.
Mouths moved as the young man’s friends turned their attention towards her. Several of them lurched to their feet, pointing and shouting.
The flier zoomed off and seconds later Reign was under fire.
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She’d plannedto lose them in city airspace then head to her bug out cave in theKongur’aorakipass.
Plans changed, especially when her comm and nav systems went offline, forcing her to switch to manual controls. Reign cursed, blind in the air, and jerked around a corner building and dived under radar.
Her nav console flickered, and a voice sounded through the speaker. “A small gift, Ah’Reigna,” the voice crooned. “You have sixteen seconds. Make use of it, I cannot aid you in like fashion again.”
Reign didn’t waste time glancing at the ring she’d jammed onto her right index finger.
The nav system flickered again. It took her two seconds to realize she was invisible in the air, and another two to pick an alley between two dilapidated buildings to land. Bless Jordak and his obsession with conserving space. This flier was barely the width of a lanky youth, with just enough arm room for manual controls. It fit between the buildings with inches to spare.
She pounded pavement, flier abandoned, and ducked inside a nondescript building through a haphazardly re-boarded up window.
This former residential sector had been slated for rehabilitation for the last two decades, but the project never got off the ground, and ordinances prohibited securing the buildings to prevent squatters. There were hidden holes plenty for a criminal to burrow in, but preferably the burrowing happened when Imperial warriors weren’t hot on one’s tail.
Couldn’t stay still too long. One house, wait until the air seemed clear of drones, slip out and override a basic lock on window or door and enter a different home, darting through the neighborhood then slowly backtracking towards her flier in a squarish circle. She avoided the buildings that were occupied or seemed to well cared for on the exterior.
She paused in the fifth building to catch her breath, and approached a front room window. The glass was long gone, but someone had drilled a peep hole in the slats of wood, enough to keep an eye on the street.
Reign cursed viciously, checking her unit. Still jammed. She couldn’t contact Icolo and Martha anyway, that would risk them. The techs would be sweeping this sector trying to ping her location. Whatever Lohail had done when he’d cloaked her flier must have deadened her trackers rather than just disabling them. Double edged dagger, that. She couldn’t be found, but she couldn’t communicate either.
A crash shattered the silence and Reign leaped into motion. They were in the next building over, which meant someone had discovered her strategy. Hoping her pursuers were stupid was a daydream too big, she supposed.
So, up.
Reign dashed up the stairs. Maybe they would barrel through to the next building and not realize she’d gone above their heads. She abandoned the idea to backtrack to her flier—not if they were this close on her trail.
Fuckthiswasn’tgood.
Still, she ignored the ring on her hand. At least until she emerged on the rooftop, breath harsh in her ears, thighs burning from the flights she’d just demolished in panic fueled record time.
She didn’t want to give Lohail the satisfaction of calling for him unless she was half dead, but maybe that was cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face.
So busy looking down, she didn’t register the fission of awareness until two soft thuds behind offered the barest warning. Reign threw herself to the ground and rolled, whipping out her unregistered en-blade. It flared to life with an exultant whine. She scissored to her feet and met Vykhan’s first strike.
Preparing for the second strike, she adjusted her balance when he stepped back and looked at her, sheathing his sword. She kept hers out, knowing the hum would bring the others down on her head in moments.
Also knowing that this was game over. She didn’t have the skill, speed, or experience to outrun anAdekhanof his level, not when he had her in his line of sight.
Her arms tingled, and suddenly she realized what that strange, seeking sensation at the sky mall had been. It was almost like phantom bonding marks writhed on her arms, inking them in the most primal Yadeshi way ever, but that was impossible.
Reign allowed her refusal to break the silence first to fill her face.
His eyes burned into hers. “Surrender,” he said.
The chill, impersonal tone sent ice trickling down her spine even as the maelstrom of rage swirling in his pupils threw her off balance.
Someone had convinced Vykhan she was a traitor.
“If I surrender, you’ll kill me.” To a male of his honor, nothing less than death would erase the stain of his betrothed, the warrior under his command, breaking inviolable vows. He would consider it his duty, and a mercy, to wield the blade that took her head.
