Page 28 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
Not for the merciless silence where my power should have been.
Not for the cries of desperation.
I wasn’t ready.
But my Clan needed me anyway.
I would be of no use to anyone if I didn’t calm myself.
With a determination I’d been born to have, I swept my gaze over the back of the garden. The castle towers loomed over us all. No screams came from those bone-white walls–yet. Whoever had the good fortune and the muscles to get there was probably safe.
But an entire perfectly polished maze of thick hedges and shrubs stretched between the safety of the castle and the altar. Most had fled through it, the river of people now barely a desperate trickle.
Shrieks echoed between the leaves before being snuffed out by the hiss of the arrows.
That’s where I was most needed.
But I needed a weapon.
My gaze caught on the twisted altar arch.
The Huntress’ favorite weapon was a bow.
Wood for a bow.
Silk for string.
Enough to makethembleed–whoever they were.
An arrow rushed through the leaves, embedding itself deep in the ground by my right foot.
A sickly green liquid oozed off the tip, scorching the ground which should have been protected by the Sanctua Sirena wards.
Not just poison.
A purge.
Whoever was attacking us didn’t want anyone surviving.
Not the gaudy, avid Serpents, not the Blood Brotherhood with that ghost of a man who’d dared try to breach my protective spell, notmyProtectorate members.
Not on my fucking watch.
This was war.
Without leaving my paltry cover behind the tree, I stretched my arm until my muscles ached and tore the silk strands from the thorns, ripping them further and rolling them between my fingers until they turned into a bowstring. Hopefully one strong enough to carry me through this day.
The next step was harder.
I had to rush back out in the open.
Willingly.
“Come on, Vegheara,” I hissed to myself. “People are counting on you.”
I braced, then lunged, and propelled myself toward the arch, my right hand catching on one of the twisted branches. My handstung as I ripped it clean off, a rain of ivy leaves and bloody myrtle flowers raining down on me.
With my insides clenching and another prayer, this time one for forgiveness, I yanked the arrow out of the priest’s eye, trying hard not to flinch at the droplets of blood now staining my hand.
