Page 36 of Warlord's Plaything

I nod once.

The plan was simple—strike, steal, slip away before they even knew we were here.

But my skin is prickling.

Like something inside me already knows the shape of the blood that’s about to be spilled.

And then?—

The shadows shift.

And all hell breaks loose.

The first blade whistles through the air.

Dagen curses, knocking me aside just as a dark elf warrior lunges from the shadows, his sword slicing through the space where I’d been standing.

Fuck.

The council set us up.

I hit the ground hard, rolling fast, yanking my dagger free as I come up into a crouch.

More of them appear—dark silhouettes cutting through the torchlight, elite warriors moving like wolves.

The ambush is perfect.

Too perfect.

They were waiting.

"Move!"I snarl, spinning low, slashing a warrior’s Achilles tendon as he swings for Dagen.

He screams, crumpling, but another takes his place before his body even hits the ground.

Sella is already moving, ducking, slashing, but there are too many.

Steel clashes.

Boots scrape over stone.

The air fills with the stench of blood.

And I?—

I feel it happening.

I’m suddenly faster.

Too fast.

I dodge before I even see the next strike coming.

I feel it.

I know it.

Like my body is moving before my mind can catch up.

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