Page 15 of The Queen's Shadow

She inhaled sharply. “Something like that,” she breathed.

This was madness. This couldn’t happen. But now, with his breath on her lips and the cool touch of his hands on her skin, she couldn’t think at all.

A twig snapped in the bracken behind them, and they sprang apart. She whipped a couple of daggers from her belt as he did the same, then they stood back-to-back in the fading twilight of the forest as a group of men materialized from the trees. Inetians. Almost a dozen of them.

“Drop your weapons,” one of the men called, his voice heavily accented. He was tall and brawny with golden-brown skin and a jagged scar across one cheek—the man Cassandra had seen talking to the white-haired chanter in the enclave.

A few more men materialized from the trees, their bows drawn. They were trapped.

Arphaxad tensed behind her. “On my signal,” he breathed.

“Do it now!” the man said again.

Fire roared to life in her veins.

Arphaxad moved almost imperceptibly behind her. “Now.”

In one swift motion, Cassandra sent a dagger into the leg of one of the men to her left. She heard a cry of pain as she whirled, sending the other toward another man deeper in the trees. Arphaxad must have done the same because she heard another shout as pandemonium broke loose. An arrow whizzed by her ear as she pulled another dagger from her belt. Her bow was too far away, and at this distance, it would be impossible to get a shot off.

“Hold your fire, you dolts!” the man who had commanded them to drop their weapons howled. “We need them alive!”

Cassandra rolled again as one of the men dove for her, then righted herself before kicking him in the groin. He doubled over as she skittered back, pulling a second dagger from her belt. Arphaxad wasn’t the only one to be armed to the teeth.

She could see him a few yards away now, sparring with a man much larger than he was. The man swung for him, but Arphaxad ducked, moving as lithely as a cat. Cassandra rolled again, sending a dagger toward the man who was coming up behind Arphaxad. The man shrieked as the blade sliced through his shoulder. Arphaxad whirled and kicked the man in the stomach. The man doubled over.

“Thanks!” he called.

Cassandra didn’t have any time to reply before a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground and crushing the air from her lungs. She gasped and stabbed her remaining dagger backward, deep into the leg of whoever was holding her. Her captor gave a yelp. His arms loosened slightly, just enough for Cassandra to slide downward, jamming her boot down on top of his foot.

The man yelped again, and she yanked at the dagger in his leg. He howled and collapsed to the ground, but the dagger slipped from her hands, slick with blood. She whirled, only to find another man coming after her with a long, jagged knife, much larger than her daggers. She tensed, waiting for him to get close enough to force him to drop the knife before it bit into her flesh.

The man gave a sudden howl and dropped to his knees, his knife scudding across the forest. Arphaxad was beside her then, his hands and the daggers clutched in them slick with blood. It spattered his face too in a spray of red. His eyes were wide, flaring with excitement, and he flashed her a huge, ridiculous grin.

“Come on.” He panted, jerking his head toward the forest. “Let’s get out of here.”

She couldn’t stop herself from sending an answering grin back. “Sounds good to me,” she said.

He grunted. His jaw went slack, and Cassandra watched in horror as he slumped to the ground, clutching at his shoulder. An arrow protruded from his back. Cassandra catalogued its location, its damage, her heart pattering an intense rhythm in her chest. It was high, she realized in relief, too high to have hit anything major.

She swore, reaching for his good arm to drag him back to his feet. A knife-tip scraped against her neck, cold and hard. She froze, her chest heaving. She met Arphaxad’s gaze—his eyes were dark with pain, and she could feel him shivering beneath her hand.

“I’ll say it again,” a gravelly voice said in her ear. “Drop. Your. Weapons.”

Cassandra’s stomach sank as she heard Arphaxad’s daggers clatter to the ground. A moment later, hers did the same.

Chapter 6

Cassandra stumbled over an exposed root and landed on her face in the underbrush. She gasped as a stray branch stabbed into her ribcage. With her hands bound in front of her, she hadn’t been able to catch herself at all.

“Get up!” one of the Inetians said roughly, helping her back to her feet. He was young, younger than she was, with deep bronze skin and a tall, muscular build. His black hair curled around his ears, and there was something in his demeanor that made him look incredibly boyish.

“Get up, yourself!” she snapped, then gasped as another one of the Inetians, this one skinny and angular, turned and yanked at her bound arms so that she stood face-to-face with him. Pain, hot and sharp, seared along her shoulders.

“Watch your mouth, girl,” he snarled. Spittle splattered her cheek. “You’re not in any position to be giving lip right now.”

“Oh dear, I’m so terribly sorry,” she drawled, leaning away from the stink of his breath. “Tell me how your humble servant should go about groveling.”

The angular man shoved her backward, and she almost lost her footing again, but the younger man grabbed her arm to steady her.

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