Page 16 of Under the Lion Star

“Well, well, well,” the taller of the two sneered. “Isn’t this a sight for sore eyes?”

“Like finding water in a desert,” the other answered.

Both had their attention fixated on me, and I rolled my eyes.

Unfortunately, I was no stranger to male entitlement. Their gazes traveled over my body, and I tried my best to read their intentions so that I could plan my next move.

While it wasn’t the first time I had been leered at, there were often varying levels of severity that came with finding myself alone with strange men. Sometimes, they just wanted to intimidate, getting off on the power they felt when instilling fear into another. Sometimes, they honestly thought they were taking a shot, hoping the arrow of their affections would hit where they intended, and their prey would fall to her knees and open wide. Sometimes it was worse.

I did my best to appear unphased as they split from one another and circled where I stood. Dramatically, I set my hand on my hip and tilted my head, hoping the exaggerated movements would cause them to miss my other hand sliding into the sash at my waist.

My fingertips ran over the small vial that Aunt Stella insisted my sisters and I always carry with us. It wouldn't be the first time I would use it to make a hasty exit.

“The ass on this one,” the taller of the two stroked his hand over his jaw.

“All yours if I get her cunt first,” the other winked.

My stomach soured and my breathing became shallow, but I did my best to remain calm. While both were armored, neither appeared to be carrying any weapons. The heavy plates would slow them considerably when I made my move.

As they skulked closer, within arm's reach, my fingers grasped the small bottle. Inside was berthin powder. It was a relatively inert substance, not useful medicinally, but when exposed to the mica in dirt, it created a thick plume of rather foul-smelling gas. Not harmful, but offensive and shocking enough to allow me to escape into the wheat fields and lay low.

The first man lunged toward me, his friend having moved to my back so I could no longer see him. I reacted quickly, but someone else was faster.

Before I could remove the vial and reveal my fangs to these would-be attackers, the man reaching for me dropped to the ground, his hands clutching at his neck.

A blade dropped to the dirt, followed by his body. Red seeped from between his fingers, and a haunting gurgle pushed frothy pink foam from his mouth. I stepped back, my eyes wide as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.

Turning to the other elf, I wondered if he had just saved me from his friend. His terror-filled eyes met mine, his mind working to figure out what we had just witnessed. But that wasn’t what caused the panic that poured through my body. No, it was the hulking black shadow standing just behind the soldier.

It was then he felt the looming presence at his back. He swallowed harshly, not daring to move.

My eyes latched onto the pale blue gaze of the rider from the previous day. The mask of indifference and the hollowness in his eyes were gone. Both had been replaced with unrestrained fury that seemed to radiate off his body. My attacker didn’t even fully rotate before the silver-haired man slid the blade of a dagger over his throat. Blood stained the dirt, absorbing into the loose particulates and clumping into a crimson agglomeration.

I looked up at the rider again, who now held me as his focus. The fury slowly subsided, the fire within him waning. With trembling hands, I reached once more for the vial tucked in my sash. His fingers slid under my chin, gently pushing up until my mouth closed so I could no longer gape at him.

His expression softened considerably while he traced my jaw and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. Moving backward, his hand ran the length of my braid, pulling it forward over my shoulder while he toyed with the end. When his eyes met mine once more, I swallowed thickly.

“Don’t walk alone anymore,” he said in a gentle command.

All I could manage was a slow nod. His eyes narrowed for a moment before he turned without another word. Heavy footsteps rang out into the silence surrounding us. His hands flexed into fists at his side, but he never looked back to where I stood.

I glanced down at the carnage, the two lifeless men still leaking blood into the roadway. I opened my shaking hand, staring down at the vial of berthin powder.

What the fuck just happened?

Chapter 4

Zialda

The heat of summer had encased my body in a sheen of sweat. I gave a curt nod to the worker who had helped set me up with the means to transport my supplies to Grandma’s house. He returned the gesture, his hands adjusting the two paint cans to ensure everything was secure within the cart.

The walls of Galvord at my back stood high, a pale limestone delineation between rural and urban living. I wondered how many people within had never traveled beyond the city limits. If it weren’t for my relatives in the countryside, I rarely had any reason to leave the capital.

While the elf who had assisted me walked back toward civilization, I eyed the cart and pondered if I had overestimated my hauling ability.

The rungs that jutted off the cart were spaced wide, but I positioned myself between them anyway. The stance was awkward, requiring far more upper body strength than I possessed, but I pressed on. There was no rush; I could take breaks as often as needed. After all, once the supplies were at Grandma’s, I could store them there.

However, my shoulders ached after just a few yards, and my arms cried out in protest. I let out a huff, dropping my hold on the cart. As if the cursed thing held answers, I stared at it, hoping to get some idea of how to better finish the journey.

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