Page 38 of Realm of Wind and Vines
Without hesitation, he strides across the threshold and into the building. I hurry after him, in case there is some kind of trap waiting inside. Isera and Orion saunter in after me.
The moment we enter the room, all conversations stop and all laughter dies out. Clothes rustle as forty-odd people turn around to stare at us. Anger darkens their features the moment they lay eyes on Draven.
We appear to have entered some kind of tavern. Even though it’s only midday, the canopy of the forest outside makes the light dim enough that candles have been lit on the tables. The flickering candlelight dances over the dark wooden walls, making the polished surfaces shine. Tables are spread out across the large rectangular space. The ones on the sides are made for two, or four, or six people. But along the very middle of the room, two massive tables run the length of almost the entire room. There is a bar to our right, and a door that appears to lead into a kitchen. The scent of cooking food drifts out of it.
Draven sweeps his gaze over the room before he finds anempty table for four. We start towards it in silence while the tavern’s patrons stare daggers at us. Conversations start back up again, but they’re whispered and full of anger now.
Wood scrapes against wood as the four of us pull out chairs and sit down. To my surprise, Draven chooses one of the seats where his back is against the rest of the room. I sit down opposite him so that I can see what is happening behind his back.
Isera eyes the other unsafe seat that has its back against the glaring dragon shifters, but Orion casually plops down on it before she can make a decision. She gives him a questioning look that he either doesn’t notice or pretends not to notice, so she just rounds the table and sits down in the final chair without commenting.
Tension crackles through the room like lightning bolts. It’s so intense that I can almost hear it vibrating in the air.
“So,” I begin, drawing out the word, as I meet Draven’s gaze. “How long before someone tries to stab you in the back?”
For a fraction of a second, I swear I can see amusement tug at his lips. But all he says is, “I’d give it five minutes.”
Orion casts a sideways glance at the tables to his right. “I bet a night in my castle on two.”
“I say less than one,” Isera adds, her sharp gaze gliding across the room.
“When it happens, don’t hurt anyone,” Draven says.
Orion arches an eyebrow in silent question.
“She’s testing us,” Draven explains. “And remember what I said. The two of you can’t use your magic or she’ll?—”
A knife shoots towards the back of Draven’s neck.
Whirling around, Draven yanks his arm through the air and manages to slam his forearm into the wrist of the man holding the knife. The guy lets out a grunt of pain at the impact, and the blade goes flying from his fingers. It clatters to the floor a short distance away.
Isera lets out a smug huff of laughter. “Called it.”
Half of the tavern lurches towards us.
Shooting to our feet, we spread out side by side as the shifters from the Purple Clan attack us with a mix of proper knives and simple dinner utensils. I duck as a blond guy swipes a blade at my face and then twist out of reach when he tries to hit me on the way back.
My pulse thrums in my ears. How am I supposed to fight when I can’t use my magic? And since we’re not supposed to hurt anyone, I can’t use my dagger either. So what the hell am I supposed to do? I’m not a brawler.
I flick a glance at Draven.
My heart leaps into my throat when I see that he is surrounded by five people who are all attacking him at the same time. I gasp as one of them rams a knife right into Draven’s shoulder.
Thankfully, it only gets stuck in his dragon scale armor. But just the thought of it makes that furious rage that is always burning inside me now rip free. Summoning my magic, I shove it at the purple sparks of worry that I hope are present in their chests. After all, they’re fighting the Shadow of Death. They have to be at least a little worried.
To my relief, almost all of our attackers feel at least a flicker of worry.
I pour my magic into them.
The sudden massive flames of worry in their chests make them hesitant and clumsy. Around Draven, three of the attackers stumble and the remaining two pull back instead of striking.
Draven cuts a look in my direction.
I just shoot him an unapologetic look back, knowing that he can see my glowing eyes.
Clenching his jaw in annoyance, he whirls back to our attackers and summons his own magic. A storm wind speeds through the room and slams into the now incredibly worried and uncoordinated group of dragon shifters. The force of the wind,and their slower reflexes, completely bowls them over and they hit the floor like a heap of sticks.
Ice shoots through the air.
