Page 59 of Feathers and Thorns

Within a few minutes, the girls had reached the outskirts of the city. Charred bits of rubble and bodies littered the streets. They slowed their pace as they came up to the city’s main gate. They pressed their backs against the stone as a few unfamiliar voices drifted from just outside the wall.

“Tabbris, report.”

Soren clapped her hand over her mouth to hide her surprise. She would recognize that voice anywhere.

General Corvus.

Her eyes widened as she looked at Enara, who motioned toward an empty doorway. They shuffled across the cobblestones and hunkered down under a shattered window.

“The castle has been blown asunder, sir,” a deep voice that Soren didn’t recognize replied.

“And the king?”

“The king has apparently gone to the after, according to some of the more open-lipped townsfolk. His brother was named steward. I confirmed his death myself, sir.”

“Well done, Sergeant. Gather the troops; we don’t have long before you must return to Anistera. Tell your men to enjoy the nectar while it lasts. Big things are coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

They heard a large flap of wings as Corvus departed and held their breaths as the sergeant marched down the path toward the inner city.

Enara peeked through the doorway after him. “I’m going to take him out,” she said as she made to stand, but Soren grabbed her arm.

“We will—together,” Soren told her. “I’m not going to let you have all the fun.”

“Together,” Enara said, sneaking out of the doorway.

A smile curled at Soren’s lips. “Let’s make these fuckers pay.”

* * *

“Maker, that stinks,” Baz said, fanning his hand in front of his nose.

“Fucker caught my arm,” Jai commented, peeling off his leather jacket that was now no more than shreds.

“Here.” Baz opened his pack, handing him a vial of the healing pool’s water.

Jai swallowed it quickly then swung his arm back and forth, testing it out. “Good as new. Thanks, brother,” he said, grimacing as the smell of burning flesh mixed with rot filled his nostrils. “Maker, you weren’t kidding.” He covered his face with his torn jacket.

“Well, at least we know fire works.” Baz kicked at a hunk of monster leg that was sizzling on the ground before him. It stuck to his boot, and he shook his foot violently until it splatted back onto the cobblestone.

“Thank you! Thank you!” A man wept as he ran toward them.

A group of people slowly filed out of the tavern, looking dazed.

“How can I ever repay you?” the man asked sincerely then paused. “Wait—do we know each other?”

“Jai Ashwood,” Jai said, holding out his hand.

The man took it, contemplating the name for a moment before realization struck. “You’re the man who they said killed the king. You’re supposed to be dead.”

The rest of the people who had been held up in the tavern slowly formed a circle around them, eyes narrowed.

“Is that true?” a teenage boy asked.

“It must be!” another cried. “The steward caught him in the act!”

“He killed the king!” a middle-aged man in a fine trader’s suit yelled.

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