Page 6 of Blood On His Lips

“We don’t know this is Montague,” Juliette said. Blades appeared in her hands, and she twisted, throwing them in a whirlwind of silver. “It could be any number of Houses we’ve offended over the years. But why attack now? It’s suicide. Renaud will kill them.”

“Why cover their faces if they aren’t Montague? And no one would attack us in Montague territory without their sanction. Not even Labornne.”

“Unless they’re testing us,” I said. “Testing him.”

The Prince had slept for centuries now. Not everyone would be happy he was awake. Or this could be about the feud.

“We need to retreatto the nearest alley.” The natural enclosure would protect us from the archer and mage and force the oncoming warriors to engage us one or two at a time.

I signed to Martine. She punched her fist forward, and the garden beds emptied, soil flooding to her hand. She punched again, and a dirt devil exploded towards the black-clad warriors.

She didn’t have the affinity for wind and training to make her a Windwarder, but her instinctive Skill to mix soil and air into packed dirt bombs or clouds of dust served us well enough. There was often a fine practical line between trainable affinities and individualized Skills.

She punched again and more dirt exploded, mixed with rock. I smiled. She’d fucked up Montague’s anal little soldier gardens. Perfect.

We jumped up, taking advantage of the cover, and ran, keeping low. Arrows pinged off the ground as the archer attempted to find us despite the limited visibility.

“Missed,” Juliette muttered. “Missed again.”

The Windwarder countered Martine’s dirt devil a moment later, creating a chaotic storm of dust particles. We coughed, choking, and dived into the alley.

Numair tested them once, emerging to engage a warrior who slipped by, and almost got an arrow through the head for his efforts.

“We have to draw them out and kill them one by one,” I said.

“We’re outnumbered,” Numair said.

“Noooo. . .really? Do you have a better idea?”

“I have plenty ofthoughts.”

“Boys should just look pretty.” Juliette patted him on the head. “And save the thinking for girls.”

He scowled at her.

I drew on my Skills and dove in a fast roll out of the alley, my guards following. We began dispatching enemies one by one. My blade found its mark unerringly, the first of my Skills, each warrior startled when I appeared before them.

I couldn’t keep up my secondary Skill, invisibility, for more than a few minutes at a time. Relentless arrow fire was their solution, interspersed with curtains of packed air that pushed us backward, sometimes violently.

“Martine!” I yelled. “Distract the Windwarder.Juliette, Numair, we need to take them out.”

Martine emerged from her cover, blade drawn. Numair joined her, and they fought their way to the warder’s position.

Any tricks, Darkan? This would be a fabulous time for one.

This wasn’t the worst scenario we’d ever made our way out of, but then we’d never fought a skirmish with less than eight warriors.

I am beginning to become annoyed,Darkan said, his presence in my head again.

He used the word annoyed, but a furious chill wracked my body. The kind of rage that melted glaciers and sent tsunamis crashing into the ocean. He was a lot touchier lately. It wasn’t like this was the first time I’d been in danger. His reaction was odd, almost emotional.

Well? Any tips?My muscles tensed with a desire to flee. I couldn’t escape the phantom in my head, especially since I had asked it for help. Besides, I was almost certain I wasn’t the one he wanted to flay alive.

Iam the tip. Stay alive.

What in the human hell did that mean?

No time to wonder, because the enemies in front of me were still more dangerous than the leviathan in my mind.

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