Page 104 of Feral Guardian
Six more shadowy figures step into the path. They wear daggers on each hip and have various other weapons sheathed at their sides and backs.
“Dismount,” the first man says again.
Alastair pulls Kor’Tar’s reins and turns us around. There are four more of the cloaked figures behind us, blocking any escape. Alastair slides from the saddle with his axe already in hand.
“Move,” he snarls as he grows several inches and horns rip through his forehead.
I release Kor’Tar’s mane, ready to rune-write any number of things. A shield for Alastair, maybe blow some dirt in their eyes, light their pants on fire—I wonder if I could from this range?
“Is this any way to treat your sister’s welcome party?” a woman’s voice calls from behind—a voice that drops my stomach into my feet and makes my heart leap all at once.
It can’t be, can it?
I turn in the saddle to glance behind me. The woman is wrapped in black leathers like the others. There are two daggers on her hips, and a third, larger one strapped to her thigh. My eyes travel up her body, finding all the little blades tucked away here and there in the laces and belts of her armor. She has fire-red hair braided loosely over one shoulder, and when my eyes finally make it to her face, I breathe for the first time since she spoke.
Belle.
Not run away. Not missing. Not dead…
She’s been here, in the Underbelly.
Alastair steps between me and Belle, his axe lowered but still at the ready. I try to speak, to say anything, but I choke on the words in my throat.
She smirks. “Lilianna Hilden stunned into silence? Now, there’s a first.”
She has an angry scar running over her missing left eye. The empty socket glows teal with power, withmagic.
She’s not a nomaj?
More teal shifts behind her and I notice the tall, athletic man hovering nearby. There are six, ribbon-like tendrils of magic protruding from his back that flex around Belle like a cage, protective and cautious. He glowers at me, both hands on the hilts of his daggers.
Belle cocks out a hip, crossing her arms. “Well, aren’t you going to say something? You were always running your mouth back in the palace…”
“Is it really you?” I ask in a whisper.
Her expression softens. “It’s me.”
I throw myself out of the saddle and Alastair barely manages to catch me. He holds me back, keeping me from running into my sister’s arms.
“This could be a trap. Your mother has a woman in her employ that can mimic faces,” he says.
Belle grins. “Ah, yes,thatbitch. I buried Spell-Breaker in her throat. She’d been masquerading as our dear, sweet mother.” The word drips acid and Belle’s face sours.
“At least the queen got her money’s worth,” the man behind her adds in a deep rumble.
Belle barks out a laugh. “That she did. Ruined my assassination attempt, though, and got my eye cut out,” she whines playfully as she touches her cheek.
The man’s teal magic caresses her face below the missing eye. “You’re no less lovely.”
Belle smiles in a way I’ve never seen. It’s love.
But then her gaze turns back on me and becomes expectant. We stare at one another for a tense moment.
Finally, she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You hide your sketchbook in a little space above the top drawer of your nightstand. Not the oneclosest to the door, but the one next to the window. You wrote love poems about Alastair. Should I recite one? I think I recall something about his dark eyes swallowing you up and your love burning in the pit of your stomach whenever he said—”
“Okay! That’s enough!” I bark. “I’ll have you know I’m amuchbetter poet now.”
She grins. “You were good then, too, just a child is all.”
