Page 82 of Unrivaled
Someone came up behind Chay, knife in hand, slashing low, aiming to hamstring him.Arrow to the hand.Eye.Chest.Thigh.Under the arm.Thomas’ spear darted forward and skewered the man.He fell away, taking Thomas’ spear.Chay continued to whirl, engaged in deadly combat with the man in mail, never knowing.Thomas fought on, sword in hand, never missing a beat.
I swallowed hard, trying to see everything.Trying to take it all in, the stink and noise and rush of movement, leaving the fear and fury for later.My brain got stuck on the wet patch against my leg and the weight of a section of my skirt, the jarring balance of the knife in my hand and the way Kaelson and Thomas made it look…effortless.
The sound of boots rising and falling as one made the hair rise on the back of my neck.The group faltered, falling back or hesitating, looking to one another.I saw Chay step into a mighty swing, ducking up and under it, driving his sword through the man’s armpit with the screech of steel against steel.
He jerked the blade free and kicked the man off as the guard arrived.
They moved together.Just like Thomas and Kaelson.
Resistance melted like it always did before my father’s men.Except they weren’t my father’s.
The hand at my elbow made me strike out.I caught myself before I sank the knife into Kaelson’s chest, the air gone from my lungs.
“You’re safe now, m’lady,” he said, as calm as if I’d simply tripped on uneven cobbles.That was what this whole thing was, to him, a little bump in the road.
I retracted the knife as the guard fell on those who hadn’t fled.I didn’t have the words to demand mercy for the survivors.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
ISOLDE
I regret to inform you that Cursed silver is simply silver.I've tested it on them myself, stripping away their adornments and replacing it with items forged by us.It’s the silver that disrupts their curse somehow, though none of them know why, or how.I’m yet to take one of their sorcerers alive so I can explore their weaknesses.—in a letter from General Victor, Duke of La'Angi to General Dieudonné, Count of Black Borough
26thDay of Spring’s Son Moon,
Age of the Locways, Year 272
La’Angi Keep
Ihated that it took me so long to get back to her, but I took the opportunities that arose on the way, trusting her to be safe.
When I entered the bailey, a shout came from above.“Mistress Isolde!”the call came from a grim-faced man who waved me onward, as if to hurry me.
I was already walking as fast as the skirts would allow, maintaining a forgivable level of modesty.Any faster and I would’ve had to kilt them up, andalsokeep the contents of my basket beneath the fabric on top.
The western door to the keep opened before I arrived, and Kaelson stood on the threshold.He stepped back upon seeing me, heels together and chest out, settling into the formal pose as naturally as he breathed.I took in the spray of blood over his cheek, the smears of it on his arm, the mark on one of his boots where he’d stepped into a pool, and the droplets on the other where it’d splashed.
He’d been a busy lad.
Out of habit, I did a quick once-over of our surroundings before stepping inside.Guards on the walls, mostly.Only a few castle residents going about their day.Nothing to note.
“The lady is well and resting in her tower,” he told me.“She’ll be glad to see you.”
Apparently, she’d been glad to see him, too.I ducked inside, keeping my thoughts to myself, feeling his eyes on me as I went.
“Did you hear?”Chiara asked me, her hands reaching for me from the other side of the hall.“By the wife!”
“I heard.”I didn’t stop to talk.Val, further along, stepped back out of my way, her eyes huge.
There hadn’t been much blood spilled for quite some time.Not where they’d seen it.The lady hadn’t been attacked inside these walls that they knew of since her father had left.
Never mind the games that knight had played with her.
Said knight opened the door for me, freshly washed, his hair still wet.It was longer than the standard La’Angi length because he was too unique and brooding to fit in, or too important to visit the barber.A lock of it dangled into his eye.I wonder if he thought it made him look dashing, or if he was too busy smoldering to care.
“She’s rattled,” he said, closing the door behind me.“And a bit bruised.Neither of which is surprising, I know, but…”
At least he never assumed I was ignorant.I paused for a moment before I left his little area, where his gear sat, bloody and waiting to be cleaned.There was a mark coming on his jaw, but he’d spoken fine.
