Page 7 of The Great and Terrible

“The storm still comes!”

“Seize her!”

“Let’s all calm down, okay?” Despite my injury, I raised both hands in a gesture of innocence. “There’s been a misunderstanding. Nothing a conversation can’t clear up.”

“Law breaker!”

“The price must be paid!”

Only Muscles remained unfazed. He hauled the headless body to the edge of the stage and tossed it inside an open cart, alongside two others. Streaked with blood, boots thumping, he strode to the other side, near Mr. Green, waiting at the top of the steps, gaze laser-locked on me. Not to stare me down but to look me over. Slowly.

He motioned me up with a crook of his finger.

Terror singed my throat. Several of my accusers reached out to grab me. I ducked and dodged, scrambling this way and that, but I was too weak and too many people blocked my path. It wasn’t long before a man latched onto my armand a woman tangled her fingers in my hair, bringing me to a grinding halt. Someone forced my arms behind my back, wrenching a shriek of pain from my deepest depths. Black dots temporarily blinded me, and vomit barreled into my throat.

The next thing I knew, I was being hauled onto the stage. My captors kept their heads bowed as they presented me to Muscles.

“Release her.” Two simple words, uttered in a voice as hard as the man himself, and my captors let go as if I were toxic.

Streams of blood made the dais floor slippery, and I struggled to maintain my balance. As I wobbled, sucking air into my lungs, Muscles caught me by the waist. To my surprise, he was careful not to jostle me.

The heat of his hands singed. Though he eyed the crowd who eyed me, I sensed the intensity of his awareness remained focused squarely on me.The predator and his prey.

There was no stopping my shudder. Or my awe. He was even more beautiful up close. Thick, enviously long lashes framed irises the color of a sunset. Shades of gold glinted with hues of blue and lavender.

How did eyes reminiscent of summer possess only winter frost? And why did I experience an urge to burrow closer and heat him up?

Stupid concussion! It had stolen my wits.

Tone as sharp as his blood-soaked ax, he asked, “Do you have a substitute?”

“What does that even mean? What did I do wrong?” Besides steal the elixir. Oh, sweet goodness. Was that the reason for this?

He turned into me and canted his head ever so slightly, sliding his gaze over me a second time, absolutely decimating my nerves. “You stole something. What?”

Any hope of getting out of this unscathed plummeted. “Okay, so, yes, I took something without paying for it. That looks bad. Very bad. I get it. But I swear to you, I intended to return with silvers. This is a simple misunderstanding.”

“So you have no substitute?”

“Who are you?” I demanded, hoping to brazen my way out of this. “Who do you work for?”

He blinked, as if surprised. “I am Jasher, I answer only to the Guardian, and you will keep your gaze downcast, as my position demands.”

Murmurs of awe spread through the listening spectators. Apparently, this Guardian was greatly respected, I should be impressed, and I shouldn’t eye his soldiers. “Let’s call him. If I explain the situation, he’ll tell you to let me go.”

A crack of thunder and flash of lightning followed my words, rousing groans from the crowd.

“Kill her before it’s too late!” someone shouted.

I pressed my uninjured hand to my belly.

Muscles—Jasher—arched a thick black brow. Yes, I saw it happen with major side eye. “I asked you a question.”

So no calling the guardian? “Look. I don’t think I have a substitute. Unless I do. You haven’t bothered to explain what we’re discussing, so how can I know?” I sagged into myself, losing steam. “My name is Moriah Shaker, and I just want to go home. I’ll settle for calling an attorney.” Yes, I had committed a crime, technically speaking. But I didn’t deserve to die for it.Extenuating circumstances, Your Honor. “I’m even okay with lock up today and appearing before a judge tomorrow.”

Not bothering to issue a response, Jasher led me past Mr. Green, who no longer had a shadowy halo floating over his head. Or rather, I no longer hallucinated one. The older man perused me, as if inspecting a vase he might wish to purchase.

“This is a misunderstanding,” I repeated, hoping to galvanize someone into helping.

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