Page 70 of A Warrior's Fate

“How bad is it?” Adrien asked, ignoring the lot, sounding more panicked than she’d thought he’d be. He’d seen her much, much worse very recently.

“I’m fine,” she tried to abate him, though she wasn’t entirely confident in the statement. She inched up the table on her own accord, saying off-handedly, “It just hurts.”

“Because you were stabbed, Isla,” Adrien said. “He attacked you. I should’ve never let you—”

She let out a strained sigh, cutting him off. “He just nicked me.”

“How did he even get to you? I thought he was restrained.”

“I thought so too, but they were—cut.” Her eyes went to the dagger, and right at that moment, the door flew open. Her heart leaped into her throat, expecting guards or her father.

But it was only Sebastian, who was somehow able to find them.

His eyes widened when they fell upon his sister, shirt bottom torn with blood smeared over her stomach and hands. “What the hell? What happened?” The door slammed behind him.

Isla made a movement and sound for him to quiet down while Adrien answered, “He stabbed her.”

A look of murder took to her brother’s face.

“He didn’t stab me,” Isla said, fighting to sit upright and failing. “It’s a graze. There’s just something on that blade.” At her words, Sebastian brought his eyes down to the glinting metal. Isla painfully threw a hand up as he reached for it. “Be careful!”

Her brother took hold of the weapon and held it up to his face. Malice still shone in his eyes, and the same lividity flashed in Adrien’s at the sight of it. Now Isla could really see what it was. Beneath its coating of blood, the hilt was ivory, entirely, from the guard to the pommel. The grip was made up of studs and corded patterns, but they were so steeped in crimson, she couldn’t make much of them from afar.

As Sebastian examined it, he turned it in his hands, catching every angle, balancing it to test its weight. “How the fuck did he get this?” He brought it back to the table, and his eyes flitted over the book and the marker carelessly. He didn’t even bother reaching for them. There wasn’t pause for her to answer before he appended, “And why the fuck did you take it?”

Isla wished she could’ve grabbed all the items and hid them away, wished she had some method of washing their existence from the boys’ memories. At least, until she knew exactly what she was looking at. Until she could gather her bearings and have a handle on the situation.

The writing in the book was the same kind as on the marker—that was simply her theory until she could confirm it. And if that happened…well, she didn’t know what she’d do. But confirmation had to come first.

“I wasn’t going to leave it there with him,” she said before her mouth snapped shut.

With him—Lukas—who she’d left unconscious and bleeding out on the floor.

Whose body she’d clawed into.

Whose blood was on her hands. Her hands.

Chest heaving, Isla looked down at the stained palm not holding her side. A crimson concoction of them both. “Oh, Goddess,” she breathed in panic before looking up at the boys. “Did I kill him?”

Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up, not having been clued in on the entire story yet. He looked to Adrien who wouldn’t look back, but the shift in their friend’s facial expression was enough to tell her brother not to interrogate.

Neither had asked her to rehash the entire situation yet, she realized. Adrien had seen what he’d seen and dragged her out. Sebastian just accepted what he saw, ready to do whatever had to be done with as little information as he’d been given.

“He’s probably fine,” Adrien said.

“He survived over a week in the Hunt and the bak,” Sebastian offered blindly. “You, of all people, aren’t going to be the one to do him in.”

Now Adrien turned his way, flashing a look that said, are you kidding?

Isla would’ve matched it if she wasn’t so horrified by it all. If the image wasn’t re-materializing in her mind. If she couldn’t feel the weight of him on her chest, the tip of a blade on her side. She shook her head to rid herself of it. To compartmentalize as she’d been taught in training.

Focused and calm. She had to be focused and calm. Maybe not for the rest of the day, but a few hours, at least.

With determination written across her face, Isla finally got herself into a sitting position.

Adrien moved a step closer. “Let me see it.”

Reluctantly, Isla slowly removed her hand, subtly cocking her head away to solely focus on her friend and not whatever lay beneath. She hissed at the removal of pressure and watched as his eyebrows shot up. Horror flooded her heart. “What is it?”

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