Page 28 of Queen of Legends and Lies
“So, your coronation’s tomorrow morning?” He keeps his voice low, but the sudden sound still startles me.
“Yep.” The word leaves my lips before I can steer my thoughts away from that imminent reality.
I shift uncomfortably. If I had saved Sterling, this wouldn’t even be on my plate. It would be his coronation instead. Or we’d be preparing to rule together. But now, I have to face this alone.
I have to become something I’m not sure I’m ready to be.
“Think we ought to get back?” His tone is light, but I catch the flicker of concern on his face. “You don’t want to be up all night before facing that tomorrow. You’ll be exhausted. And you’ll never live it down if you face-plant during the ceremony.”
I almost snort but remember we have to be quiet. “Nope. But if you just jinxed me, I swear on all the gods I’ll kick your ass.”
He flashes me a wolfish grin. “I’m always down for some sparring. You could certainly use the practice. Though I’m pretty sure I’ll be kickingyourass.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “Let’s just focus on tonight. I’d rather not think about the coronation looming over my—” A sharp pain flares up on my left bicep, and I stagger back.
“What the hells?” Agnar whirls around, drawing his sword as he scans the darkness. “Bad idea, fuckers.”
There’s no one in sight.
I reach for the quiver strapped across my back and pull an arrow free. The fletching brushes against my fingers, grounding me.
“You all right?” he whispers in my ear, so low I almost miss it.
All I can do is nod, afraid if I speak, I’ll draw more attention. I spin on my heel, every nerve ending on fire as I search for signs of life.
No motion. No noise. Nothing.
We only have two options. Wait for our attackers to reveal themselves or fly and hope our sudden movement doesn’t make us easy targets. Neither option sounds particularly promising.
Back-to-back, we circle slowly, weapons at the ready.
The crunch of leaves has my pulse galloping.
Out of the darkness, a figure emerges.
A woman with stringy hair, tattered clothing, black eyes, and an emotionless face.
“We’ve been looking for you, Dragoncaller.” She steps closer, and a foul stench that reminds me of body odor mixed with garlic breath hits me like a tidal wave. “Xenon wants you alive, but this one? I’m going to relish killing him.”
Agnar eyes the daggers sheathed at her waist, a dry laugh escaping him. “With those? Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s a shitty idea to bring a dagger to a sword fight?”
The next few seconds are a blur as Garlic Breath hurls a dagger at Agnar’s head. He ducks, the miss so narrow that the blade skims his hair.
She smiles, malice in her obsidian eyes. “You were saying?”
The woman reaches for the second dagger. But this time, Agnar’s prepared.
“That wasn’t very nice.” He assumes a fighting stance with his sword raised in the air. “But since I am, I’ll let you have the second strike too.”
Her smile widens, and she throws the knife. It whizzes past his right ear.
Why is the bitch drawing this out when she clearly could’ve embedded the knife in his chest? Is she taunting us? Having a little bit of fun?
She leans down, whipping a third dagger from her boot.
My patience snaps.
Summoning the magic that’s always just below the surface, I hurl a ball of fire at her. The blaze hits her chest, instantly engulfing her body in flames.
