Page 109 of The Cruel Dawn
“She’s with me,” I say to Carana. I slow down but don’t wait for his approval.
“Stop right now,” Carana repeats, his golden eyes cold. “Take another step and I’ll shoot.”
“Are you talking to me?”
“Do you know this man?” Elyn whispers.
“Yeah,” I say, “and I don’t understand why he thinks he can preventmefrom entering my own dwelling.”
Carana pulls back the bowstring—it’s so tight that I can hear it hum.
I cock my head. “Have you lost your mind, Carana? You dare to draw your—”
His arrow whizzes in the air, that twisted tip aimed at my neck.
I swipe my hand, batting the arrow away with a breath of wind. The bolt drives into an oak tree, and the trunk cracks like a peal of thunder from the impact.
Elyn shouts, “What thefuck?”
Blood roars in my ears as I stomp toward that asshole.
Carana pulls another twisted-metal arrow from his quiver.
In three steps, I’m standing in front of him. With one hand, I grab him by the back of his head and with the other hand yank him closer by his thick neck.
Yes, he is Mera by birth. Golden eyes. Muscular build. A single orb on his shoulder—the realm of Gathela, the only realm he’s destroyed, known for its beautiful grassy steppes…and its gleeful murder and torture of children, the elderly, animals, Eserime, trees… An awful place that I didn’t have the honor of destroying myself.
This man just tried to kill meandElyn Fynal, the Grand Adjudicator and Lady of Law and Light, the worst person to threaten. My hands cup both of his ears, and I drag this warrior closer to me. “Welcome to your last day alive. Hope you had fun.”
He sneers at me and spits, “You’re not strong enough to—”
I growl and twist his neck.
He crumples to the ground.
“You’ve been here three minutes,” Zephar shouts from behind me, “and you’ve managed to kill one of my warriors?”
He, Shari, and a small contingent of Diminished walk up the path, their hair, dark and wild, shining with the sands of Doom Desert. They move with the practiced grace of warriors—every step deliberate, every motion purposeful. Their hands rest on their weapons, ready for the next fight…and itbetter not be with me.
Zephar’s lips curl into a thin smile as he eyes Carana’s lifeless body at my feet. A flicker of respect hides beneath his scowl—a recognition of my strength. The others stop a few paces behind him and await his next move. Their loyalty is obvious by the way they tightly form at his back.
“Did you see him shoot at us?” I ask, restraining myself from kicking the dead warrior’s corpse.
Zephar raises his eyebrows. “What can I say? He was young and dumb.” He spreads his muscular arms and adds, “And what canIsay? I’m old and dumb.”
I step over the dead archer to reach Zephar. He smells like dust and oranges.
Two warriors move Carana’s body out of the way. They’ll dress him and burn him—but I won’t perform death rites, not for a treasonous Mera. Elyn could sentence him posthumously, but we don’t have the time.
“Windwolves and hydrasalts attacked another caravan,” Zephar says. “We hadn’t placed wards on the road they traveled, but I don’t think it matters now. The otherworldly are growing bolder. Seems like they don’t care whether they live or die.”
“Neither did your archer,” Elyn says, nodding to bloody sand left by Carana.
“I would apologize about killing him,” I say, “but I won’t because I warned him and he tried me anyway.”
Zephar shrugs and kisses the top of my head. “Nothing to apologize for. I’ll come up with something to tell his kin.”
“How about the truth?” Elyn says, eyebrow high. “He tried to kill us.”
