Page 87 of Of Sword & Silver

One of the horses stamps its feet and we both glance back at where they’re crowded by the cabin door.

“There’s something out there,” Caedia says suddenly.

Morrow’s up in a flash, muttering a cantrip under his breath. Red flashes across his skin, and he rolls his shoulder.

“We face a fork in the road,” Lara murmurs, so quiet even I must strain to hear her.

The horses tug at their makeshift tethers, nostrils flaring as they blow out frantic breaths.

A snarl, inhuman, rattles the door.

“What the fuck? By Lojad’s fucking beard, what the fuck are you?”

A catlike sound of pain and anger follows a thud.

“It’s Fil,” Kyrie says, leaping to her feet.

Her feet slam against the floorboards as she sprints to the door, tugging it open. Violence radiates from her in tangible waves.

I leap to her side, pulling my sword from the sheath on my back. A tall, lean man outside the cabin surveys Kyrie with obvious interest.

My lip curls into a snarl.

“Get the fuck away from my cat,” she hisses, her daggers flashing in the harsh winter sun.

“Well, hello,” the male drawls. “And what, exactly, are you and your horses doing in my cabin?”

“Considering murder,” Kyrie says, her voice deadly calm.

Morrow’s beside her in a flash, one hand on her shoulder, a gesture that might appear to be calming, but the red now flashing across Kyrie’s skin signals it’s anything but.

Morrow’s just transferred his ward to her.

I dip my chin at him in gratitude.

“Your cabin,” Kyrie repeats in a low voice that promises bloodshed.

“That’s right, Red,” he says to her, wicked amusement playing across his face at her clear distaste for his nickname. “Lucky you’re still here, by the way, considering Lojad came to me in a dream last night and told me to find you.”

Morrow heaves a sigh of what can only be relief.

“You won’t be so lucky if you touch my cat again,” Kyrie snarls.

“Put the daggers away, Kyrie,” Lara calls from beside the fire. “He’s our sixth.”

The man stuffs his gloved hands into his pockets, strolling past Kyrie and me with an air of studied nonchalance. “Thank you, lovely maiden,” he tells Lara.

Lara remains expressionless.

Once inside, he pauses, taking in the horses in the corner, raising one eyebrow in distaste.

“I see you’ve made yourselves at home,” he says mildly, then dips his upper body in the faintest hint of a bow. “Sampled the goods, even?” His gaze floats over the open barrel of alcohol, then catalogs the rest of the barrel crowding the room. “The name’s Dario. Dario Krauss.” He tosses his brown shoulder-length hair. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

Lara and Kyrie share a confused look. Morrow shifts his weight, one hand on his sword pommel, and Caedia outright laughs.

“No one has heard of you,” she tells him, matter of fact.

“Lojad told me I needed to smuggle you into Nyzbern,” he drawls.

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